I had great plans for my maternity leave.
It was going to go something like this:
Finish work on 19th of July confident that everything was in order and my cover would know exactly what to do in my absence. My desk would be clear and my email inbox down to about 20 emails that might be useful in the future. I'd bring in cake and say a fond farewell to colleagues.
I would then have four or five weeks to unpack the remainder of out boxes from the move, pack my hospital bag, cook for the freezer, read all those books about birthing which I seem to have accumulated. See friends. Bloom, glow and grow.
Instead is has been more like this:
Spend first half of what was supposed to be last week in work in hospital trying to send work emails from my iPhone. Spend latter half at home cursing works remote internet access whilst trying to 'rest'. Go to hospital on Friday for check up. Swing past work - pick up leaving present and try to hand-over work in about an hour whilst shredding the most sensitive of the files from people I use to manage.
I've spent my first week of maternity leave still trying to finish off work from home in-between fending off over protective relatives who keep trying to send me to bed.
This weekend Dad and Step-Mother arrive - complete with blood pressure monitor. Most of the weekend has been whiled away watching them unpack boxes, put up shelves and even paint a wall (I'll be honest I quite enjoy being told that I am not to allowed to do any of those activities) and been mildly rebuked for not having packed my hospital bag, started on the nursery.
My hospital bag is now packed. The nursery is getting there - at least the moses basket is up and new born clothes identified.
The problem with having a blood pressure monitor at home is my blood pressure is being monitored by my Step-mother, a retired nurse.
She isn't happy.
On Friday the hospital checked it and it was still high so my drugs were increased and I was sent home until Monday.
This weekend my pressure has been vacillating between high and very high.
My Step-Mother has now changed her plans to stay until Monday and come to the hospital with me on Monday and demand ... well, I'm not sure what.
I'll be 37 weeks pregnant on Thursday. I think my Step-mother wants the baby whipped out on Thursday.
I'm beyond caring about this pregnancy.
All I want is the healthiest, safest outcome for the baby. If that is a c-section at 37 weeks or a water birth at 40 weeks I don't care. I just hope she is well, and happy.
God, knows when I'll get the opportunity to stock up my freezer!
It was going to go something like this:
Finish work on 19th of July confident that everything was in order and my cover would know exactly what to do in my absence. My desk would be clear and my email inbox down to about 20 emails that might be useful in the future. I'd bring in cake and say a fond farewell to colleagues.
I would then have four or five weeks to unpack the remainder of out boxes from the move, pack my hospital bag, cook for the freezer, read all those books about birthing which I seem to have accumulated. See friends. Bloom, glow and grow.
Instead is has been more like this:
Spend first half of what was supposed to be last week in work in hospital trying to send work emails from my iPhone. Spend latter half at home cursing works remote internet access whilst trying to 'rest'. Go to hospital on Friday for check up. Swing past work - pick up leaving present and try to hand-over work in about an hour whilst shredding the most sensitive of the files from people I use to manage.
I've spent my first week of maternity leave still trying to finish off work from home in-between fending off over protective relatives who keep trying to send me to bed.
This weekend Dad and Step-Mother arrive - complete with blood pressure monitor. Most of the weekend has been whiled away watching them unpack boxes, put up shelves and even paint a wall (I'll be honest I quite enjoy being told that I am not to allowed to do any of those activities) and been mildly rebuked for not having packed my hospital bag, started on the nursery.
My hospital bag is now packed. The nursery is getting there - at least the moses basket is up and new born clothes identified.
The problem with having a blood pressure monitor at home is my blood pressure is being monitored by my Step-mother, a retired nurse.
She isn't happy.
On Friday the hospital checked it and it was still high so my drugs were increased and I was sent home until Monday.
This weekend my pressure has been vacillating between high and very high.
My Step-Mother has now changed her plans to stay until Monday and come to the hospital with me on Monday and demand ... well, I'm not sure what.
I'll be 37 weeks pregnant on Thursday. I think my Step-mother wants the baby whipped out on Thursday.
I'm beyond caring about this pregnancy.
All I want is the healthiest, safest outcome for the baby. If that is a c-section at 37 weeks or a water birth at 40 weeks I don't care. I just hope she is well, and happy.
God, knows when I'll get the opportunity to stock up my freezer!