I don’t know what is more unnerving – the fact that little L has missed her due date and that every passing day brings me closer to the whole drip-epidural-induction-nightmare; or people that keep on calling, texting and commenting on the fact that my belly is still occupied territory.
‘Where is little L?’, ‘L?’, ‘Is she still in your tummy?’ and ‘Isn’t she a bit late?’ to mention just a few considerate questions I receive. Daily. My favourites were this week’s comments on how high up my belly still was (‘too high to go into labour anytime soon’), and that Braxton-Hicks contractions would indicate another 4 weeks of pregnancy to come. I would be 45 weeks pregnant by then, how sensational!