So two Fridays ago exactly, I washed my hair, walked to the local coffee shop to catch up with a girlfriend, wrote a few work emails, put on a load of washing and generally waddled about in my 39 weeks pregnant body.
In every respect it was just another day and, apart from a few random tummy pains (which could have been Braxton Hicks contractions or just a result of eating a Butterfinger, a round of sour cherry toast, several prunes and an unripe pear!) I had no inkling that by 5.35pm I would be holding a baby girl in my arms.
It was that fast. I got my calm birth. Sort of. Calmly chaotic was more like it.
I am brewing the birth story and I promise to pour it out soon, but life with a newborn has me on the hop. Then there's the matter of all that tinsel-wrangling, turkey-stuffing and gift-wrapping that's going on around me. Something else going on is there? Hmmmm?
Seriously, what could be more important than gazing into the milky, slow-blinking eyes of a 2 week old baby, holding a tiny warm bundle in a close cuddle, watching teensy rosebud lips make a soft round 'o' and feeling the flutter of tiny fingers on my breast as she feeds?
Unspeakable acts of un-Christmas-like behaviour have been happening since Friday fortnight ago. We don't even have a tree yet and there's only EIGHT DAYS TO GO!! At least there won't be any chance of it shedding dead brown pine needles as we slowly neglect it to death as in Christmases of yore!
But we have our little bundle of joy. The latest addition. The newest apple of our eye. Wot the stork dropped off. Our bella Francesca Elizabeth. And everything else is on the back-burner.
Back soon to regular programming . . . . x
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