Waiting

T minus 13 days and counting. At least now we know for sure which decade the baby will be born in.

As we’re now within two weeks of Heather’s due date, I’m effectively on call 24/7 and ready to make a mad dash for home from the office at the first ring of my mobile. (Note to self: assign a suitably comical ringtone to Heather tonight.) So, no alcohol – well, maybe just a little.

Our birthing pool is being delivered tomorrow, ready to be assembled and filled with water. Once that’s done, we are basically all ready to go for the planned home birth. In the event of complications requiring a transfer to the Royal Berkshire, we have packed hospital bags. And the baby seat is currently sitting in the hallway; it will be taking up residence in the boot of my car as of tonight.

Other than that, the plan from my end is to minimise the amount of time I spend away from home between now and the birth. Fortunately, there is very little I actually¬†need to be in the office for over the next couple of weeks –¬†I’ve already turned down a two-day trip to France this week and am mulling over the wisdom of a two hour-plus drive over towards Bedford next Wednesday, but other than that the plan is to work from home a couple of days a week, and leave the office no later than 4pm on other days to avoid the evening rush hour (meaning I should never be more than half an hour from home). Everything else in my diary is either movable, doable by phone or expendable. It means planning my work-flow for January is a complete nightmare, but that’s just tough. The world will, I’m sure, manage to muddle along without me for a couple of weeks.

So, other than a couple of small, non-essential tasks – such as baby names! – we’re as ready as we’re ever going to be. The only major job remaining is the hardest thing of all: to sit and wait.

Tum-te-tum.