On nesting instinct

Last Sunday I was struck by sudden anxiety. I had been restless and nauseous all afternoon and then figured it might be because I was tired. So I slept. But when I woke up the nausea was still there and the anxiety turned into a mad panic. It felt like panic had been injected straight into my bloodstream with a syringe. What if this was the onset of labour and I did not know? How would I know if this was the real thing? What if our little girl had decided to come early while Jonny was still abroad? Would I be able to tell him in time to come back so he could be there for the birth of his daughter?

Add to that the fact that Jonny is in a place where telecommunications are not up to the standards we are used to over here. Connections break in the middle of a conversation, missed calls don't show up on the display and messages arrive three times. Or not at all. So I freaked. And when I spoke to him, all I could do was cry.

He reacted with all the patience of the world (the joy of having a pregnant wife!) and told me everything would work out, that we have a plan B in place and he reminded me what the acupuncturist told me last week. She said that my belly is still calm and relaxed, that there is still place for our girl to grow and that there is a certain degree of control from the mind over the body. Meaning we are going to wait with delivery until Jonny is back. Which is at least until next Monday.

That was all true and it calmed me down considerably. Now all is back to a calmer mental state chez Corcutt and I am concentrating on preparation for labour, delivery and the first days after the birth. All this while I am happily aware that there is no such thing as preparing for something that you have no control over. So every now and then I remind myself of what my mother once said to me: the only thing you can prepare for is that it is going to be different than you expect.

Up until now Jonny has done most of the nesting: trying to make the baby room habitable in time for baby girl's arrival, oiling the wooden floors and organising the house. And he has done a wonderful job. Personally I hoped that my nesting instinct would kick in big time. The fridge could do with a clean, as do the windows and I am sure that our linen cupboard would look a whole lot better given just a little TLC.

Instead I find myself cooking meals for the freezer, making sure we don't run out of groceries (like, erm, icing sugar- which is obviously an essential for life with a newborn?) and making lists. Lists with music to listen to during labour, what to pack in my hospital bag, general what to do lists. I think it's partly raging hormones, but it's also a way to take control because I feel slightly out of control at the moment...