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| 35 week bump @ Piha |
This week I'm feeling HUGE. And tired. We're in Auckland while Matt rounds out the final weeks of his current contract. I flew up to see him two weeks ago and we had planned to drive back to Gisborne. However, a storm hit the North Island, sensationally dubbed a "weather bomb" by the New Zealand media, which exploded in the Waioeka Gorge through which the road from Auckland to Gisborne passes. Not anymore. Not for at least six weeks apparently. The gorge is beautiful. The road follows a winding river through steep hills of lush native bush, a portion of which collapsed during the storm: http://tvnz.co.nz/national-news/raw-video-waioeka-gorge-slip-4767632.
So we're flying back on Thursday. Matt's work is winding down to 80% for the next three months - perfect timing to have a baby.
Roscoe is rapidly colonising parts of my body that I naively thought still belonged to me. Legs are thrust out to the side and up under my ribs. If my bladder gets a little large for baby's liking, the kid punches it into submission! As we fast approach the "business end" of the gestation (Matt's terminology), friends and strangers seem progressively less censored and more inclined to tell me the gory details of their nightmarish birth scenarios.
Matt has been trying to convince me that a "dry run" drive from our house to the hospital is in order. After brushing off his initial requests, I was finally cornered into explaining my resistance. Surely it makes perfect sense not to want to put us through the experience more than once? I can envisage the whole thing and it mainly involves Matt speeding, me yelling and a lot of unnecessary stress. The reality will probably be utter silence and clinical precision. Or - ironically - Matt driving ridiculously and uncharacteristically slowly and me yelling. I refuse to give it any further thought.
