I still sort of can't really believe it. But seeing as we've sailed into the second trimester, Its looking very likely that in a few short months, we'll have a new baby.
And with that comes the fear. Not the fear of the baby, that bit I can't wait for, but you know, the bit about getting the baby OUT.
I'm not afraid of Labour. I managed labour just fine when i was going through it with Lucy. It was long no doubt, and it hurt like nothing I've ever felt before, but I handled it well, with a
But. Then. Came. The. Birth.
Mary mother of GOD. Without going into details that are sure to give the thickest skinned mother of one hundred children nightmares, I tore. BIG. TIME. And you know that thing they say in the hospital, about how the stitches will dissolve in a couple of weeks, and that you can manage the pain with paracetamol? And the little white lie about feeling much better "down there" in a few days? Apparently, that doesn't count if you've had third degree tearing. Of course, they don't tell you that, they smile, lie and send you home with a very tiny baby, and replica railway tracks across and area of your body that is so close to becoming public property that you wonder why you buy new clothes.
Eeeeeventually................... you heal. I know this. But there is this eetsy little chance that when your busily pushing out the next, and ultimately larger baby, that old wounds will...erm...re-open.
What are the chances of some brilliant scientist creating a much more evolved - less painful way, of women having babies, in the next five and a half months?