The arrival Elliott Ian Madigan.

I gave birth to a beautiful bonny boy on Saturday 10:47am.

Details to follow.

Due Date

I am 40 weeks today. My baby was due to say hello on this day, the 20th November, alas he wants to arrive fashionably late, like his mother Grrr.

I am becoming a nervous wreck not knowing when he is going to arrive, especially since it appeared to everyone he was going to come early [His head has been engaged from 31 weeks, ow].

The tenuous sporadic early labour signs throw me into a belief he is coming that day/night I am finding it hard to ignore my body as I keep analysing it.

Also as the day gets closer I have had a few hormonal doubting moments, sort of like muted prolonged panic attacks, wondering if I have made the right choice, etc.

The thing that makes the wait more annoying, I am mindful that these worries and aliments will dissipate on his arrival, but thats then I am here, now. Painful, bored, anxious, now...

Fed up. A week to go....

I want my body back.
I want my boobs back.
I want to be able to put my own knickers on without falling over.
I want the metallic taste in my mouth to disappear.
Most of all I want to meet my son.

I don't know what I hate more the feeling my ribcage is being pulled apart
or the fact its much harder to breathe.

Seven days have never felt so much like an eternity before...