We are on pause. Nothing is happening. This is a time punctuated by the clacking of Kirsty’s needles. Occasionally we turn to one another and growl about how tremendously BORED we are, how these babies are NEVER going to come.
It’s my own silly fault. I have read too many horror stories about twins coming early and convinced myself that mine would be amongst them. Now that I’m at a point where it wouldn’t be a dreadful thing to happen, I’m waiting for it. And ready. I’ve always planned to decline an induction but perhaps that was because I was so sure that our twins would come early of their own accord. I still want to go into labour spontaneously but if they’re still comfortable in there in a few weeks’ time, I might change my mind about the method of eviction for my little womb tenants.
So we are trying to take it easy, to enjoy the silence whilst it lasts! To enjoy each other. To spend time with the little dog, who has known attention and affection for such a little proportion of her life and craves us desperately. There have been times recently when we’ve been happy and laughing and then the sheer dread of losing that has hit me like a brick. Kirsty was my best friend before she was my partner; I’m not ashamed to admit that, selfishly, I’m not entirely sure that I’m ready for our priorities to move away from each other.
We spend a lot of time these days reminding each other of how in love we are. We take short waddles with the little dog and sit on the benches to watch her pootle and sniff. We snuggle in bed at bizarre times of the day and she doesn’t take offense when I shortly drift off to sleep!
It’s all rather lovely, and frustrating, and slow. I just keep reminding myself that nobody passed university textbooks up to their uterus so that their children can achieve an education – they have to come out at some point soon! And if I really want to have a set date, then I really ought to set one via an induction.