So I've had my sweep to try and get labour started - well the midwife attempted it - but, without going into too much detail, it seems that things didn't want to be swept, so it's unlikely to work. The next course of action is an induction on Sunday if the baby doesn't decide to come on it's own in the mean time - something the midwife also said looked unlikely! Grr.
Looking on the bright side at least the end is in sight, on Sunday things should be on their way. But I can't help but feel a bit disappointed, ok actually, make that a lot disappointed.
For me this isn't just about getting the baby out. Yes I want to meet my baby, and I want my body back - but I was really, really hoping for a natural, intervention free birth. If I'm induced I can't have that. Both me and the baby will have to be monitored, we're unlikely to be allowed on the midwife led unit with it's lovely rooms, bean bags and birthing pool.
This might not sound like a big deal from the outside (I think even Mr Jones struggles to grasp why I'm bothered about it), the end result is the same, of course. But after a pregnancy that has been so far removed from the way I'd imagined it, I was really hoping to have the birth I'd planned for. Or at least for it to start off the way I wanted it to (who knows if I'll be ultimately begging for an epidural and throwing my natal hypnotherapy cd and selection of essential oils across the room).
I suppose this is just another lesson to add to the big old long list of lessons I've had to learn in the last nine months - with pregnancy and babies you are so not in control it's unbelievable. You can't really plan for anything to be as you'd like it to be. Which for a control freak like me is a really uncomfortable experience.
Maybe after all this I will have an Angel Baby who sleeps through the night and does everything perfectly - or maybe not.
Please everyone cross your fingers and make a wish that Baby J decides to come out of his own accord before Sunday - just so I can at least try out the bean bags.
PS to cheer everyone up and to save it for posterity - here is a picture of Mr Jones' beard. I still think he's handsome.
Mrs Jones is a far from yummy mummy with a penchant for M&S fudge bars and a mojito on a Friday night. She became Mrs Jones in 2009 and a mummy in 2010. In 2011 she is attempting to remember her own name and not put washing powder in the dishwasher....