He’s been in my life for 41 weeks and 2 days now. That’s pretty much 9 and 1/2 months of growing a human from a teeny, tiny cell; nearly 6936 hours of carrying him with me everywhere I go. 1 week and 2 days of being officially overdue.
It’s come as no surprise that Little B is still firmly tucked away. I was overdue by a whopping 12 days with Big B, so I think I knew that he would keep me waiting too. It’s hard not to accept some false hope though, when friends, other mums and even strangers exclaim that you’ll be early, because of the size of your bump (yes, really!)
At over a week past his due date, Little B is fully-baked. That means I’m second-guessing every ache in my back, twinge or the tiniest cramp. Every night I put my son to bed, I wonder if he’ll wake up in the morning as an official big brother. Every kiss goodbye at the school gate in the morning, I question if it’ll be me picking him up that day, or will it be an emergency phone call to Nanny to collect him instead?