"Pebble" was due yesterday. And after Noah's late arrival I should know better than to place much significance on a hospital-assigned "due date" but somehow it just isn't that simple.
The perfect, beautiful and speedy arrival of the royal baby yesterday didn't help my feelings of frustration, I'll be honest. Messages I've received in the light of that have kept me entertained though. Friends hit the nail on the head:
It doesn't help that this baby has been lying in an unhelpful position for well over a month now and any success I've had in getting him/her to turn has been short-lived. They clearly find it far more comfortable in the most awkward position and that is not going in favour of a quick-starting or straightforward labour. Or so I'm told; I have hope yet.
Noah is finding entertainment in my current efforts to turn Pebble around throughout the days and evenings. Dressing me up as a tortoise as I lay across the gym ball yesterday was not one I saw coming!
You've got to laugh! It makes the waiting easier somehow.
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