I can only imagine what it would be like for someone on death row waiting for the gallows. The inevitability of it. Your life will end in the very near future but it’s not actually up to you as to when it’ll happen. You can wish time away all you like or hang on to every precious second, it won't actually matter because it's not up to you.
We’re experiencing the opposite in the fact that our son’s life will begin, however the same inevitability remains.
Anna’s sick tonight, just feeling generally rubbish. This is on top of the heartburn and the heat that pregnant women feel in summer. Being pregnant could easily be described as a disability. Her movement is limited by this giant baby hanging off the front of her.
I was asked to go and play a game of netball tonight but I just don’t want to go too far from her. As for tomorrow, I’m due in at work as usual at 5am but if Anna goes into labour, I’ll be phoning the boss, he’ll answer in that murky with sleep voice, “huooo?” and I’ll say, “It’s on big fella, I won’t be coming in this morning.” And he’ll drag his lanky self off to the studio to fill in for me.
Good boss that.
So we wait. We wait for this boy child to come of his own accord. If I'm at work tomorrow, still no baby, if I'm not, we've got some action. We're hoping for action.