I’ve had a complaint about my cliffhanger last night. No babies yet Sharron don’t worry. Just a natural inclination towards melodrama. I think every night is our last but I’m starting to think it could be indigestion. Hey maybe I’m not pregnant at all. Just a bad case of twin flatulence. Imagine the scene in the delivery room. “I’m sorry madam, but you’ve just delivered two fart babies. We’re going to have to ventilate. Hang on, what’s that? Oh no, it’s just a cheese sandwich stuck under your belly.” Who could blame me? I haven’t seen below my belly button for months. Anything could be going on down there.
No drama today. I’m so very grateful for each day of normality right now. They tell me every day makes a difference to their chances outside the womb. We even managed a trip to Kew Gardens with Lucas and the in laws courtesy of one of Kew’s free mobility scooters. It was the last one and I felt bad in case a disabled person came in after me and watched me scooting off into the distance. Only because I thought they might see me doing a Little Britain at the cafe. We had to laugh, me and two octogenarians and a toddler and I’m the one on the scooter. Lucas likes to drive but he keeps turning the speed dial up to 11 and swerving from side to side across the path beeping at innocent passers-by minding their own business. It must look a bit Benny Hill.
Week 6 of bed rest starts tomorrow. Next, knitting over Wimbledon with Mama Angela. I have done a whole ten rows. Perhaps I could knit Andy Murray a personality.