Ground-sprog Day

‘I Got You Babe’ might not have been playing on the radio when I got up this morning and I might not have bumped into Ned Ryerson but today certainly had an air of familiarity, Groundhog Day style to it, from people wishing us well at work to a packing things in bags and that whole kind of uneasy stepping into the unknown feeling about it all…again.

This last week has felt like forever jumping from hospital to home and back again several  times but not necessarily in that order, which is mildly frustrating for me but pales compared to how draining all this dragging back and forth and dragged out it has made Sarah feel.

There can be only one...more visit to hospital

Here we are, nearly Tuesday and this time last week we seemed to be going through both the same motions and emotions. Watching TV this evening you’d be forgiven that someone was trying to tell us something as not only is Sam Mitchell in hospital pregnant with Preeclampsia but Highlander was also on later which as you may recall features immortals with dodgy accents lopping offs people’s heads and they then gain in power as their energy transforms to them pretty much blowing everything up around them. Well this, this is called the quickening and apparently the quickening, in real life and not the film as I can’t see myself getting very far at the hospital with sword in hand, is a term for when a baby in the womb shows its first sign of life, its first noticeable movement within the womb. Or perhaps I’ve just got babies on the brain.

Sarah’s mum and dad were round earlier and we said that we were going to have our second final night of freedom, to which Sarah’s mum replied we should spend it like our first. To be honest there was no danger of that happening as I had too much red wine that night and ended up doing various Bagpuss impressions (“The amazing mechanical mouse organ”), such a charmer. We had pizza and a Chinese instead and watched a cheery episode of Panorama that featured parents who were wrongly accused of child abuse against their newborn child. Perhaps an encore of my Professor Yaffle impressions wasn’t such a bad idea after all!

Somehow, after only doing it last week, we found ourselves packing numerous bags again for tomorrow’s trip to the hospital, shoving items with a sense finality about it. All the essentials were there obviously: camera, mini-chedders, Harry Potter on CD for Sarah and a trusty pack of cards. I’d also made sure that my trusty bottle of lucozade was within easy reach in the fridge to help get me started in the morning.

Talking of fridges I’ve also started seeing sell by dates on food not as actual dates as such but as whether they are best before Izzy is born or not, still kind of working round the date of September 1st. Turns out the milk isn’t but the Lurpak is, even though it probably won’t last that long. Lucky it doesn’t run out on the actual 1st though as I’d probably end up keeping it and framing it or something.

Today might be Tuesday again, just, but we are confident of one thing that no matter how similar this day is to last Tuesday this will be our last Izzy free Tuesday ever. To paraphrase Bill Murray, Izzy’s chance of departure,100%.

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