I am snuggled in my cream shawl on the sofa, on a rainy Monday afternoon in May. Only, it isn’t Monday at all, it is Tuesday…it just feels like Monday because of the bank holiday yesterday. It feels like the days of the week have been shuffled like a pack of cards.
Every night when I go to bed, I wonder if I will be woken by the baby starting her arrival. Every morning when I wake up, I wonder if this will be the day that I will recount in the future…’the day you were born was a rainy Tuesday in May, which felt like a Monday all day long…’
But not today, it seems.
Every day when I venture out, I wonder if this will be the last outing before. Everything is in terms of before and after now.
Tomorrow I have the midwife coming between 9 and 5 to try and get the baby moving. Oh, how I hope she arrives on her own between now and then! I also have the plumber coming to do some work on the boiler, and my new coffee machine is being delivered. There may be a visit from a reflexologist…with so many things booked in, I hope hope hope this is tempting fate and the baby comes tonight!
But for now, I am snuggled in the soft dull light of a wet May afternoon. I haven’t put the lights on yet, and am watching the rain fall and people scurry past occasionally, under umbrellas. Nigel Slater is cooking a vegetable stew on the television, and I have nearly finished reading the entire archives of a lovely blog I discovered at the weekend called Letters to Nigel Slater. I am sipping some tea, and later will put the lights on low and pick up my cross stitch. I have started a scene called ‘High and Dry’ which is a view across the river to St Mary’s church in Maldon, the little town where I grew up.
I wonder what this week holds? I am very drawn to the colour green at the moment, and have a mild urge to crochet a shawl in soft moss green. There is a craft shop which sells yarn not ten minutes walk from here, but I know I can’t go tomorrow, and I wonder if by Thursday I will be having this baby at last?
It feels odd to have so much uncertainty about my days, although I know it is only in the short term.
Apart from the uncertainty and my impatience, I feel snug and contented. It would be lovely to have you here to share this afternoon, to drink tea together. Perhaps you could bring some knitting or crochet with you to work on while I cross stitch, and we sip tea and talk, and watch the rain falling outside.