Exactly a year ago, I was 6 days away from giving birth to Frog.
I spent hours walking up and down the stairs, hoovering and then bouncing up and down on a birthing ball. Hours. I was pretty fed up with being pregnant.
As Frog’s first birthday hurtles ever nearer, I’m constantly reminded of what I was doing this time last year. The blanket I knitted, the walks with my lovely neighbour and her toddler, the bouncing on that bloody birthing ball, the obsession with internet forums on labour and birth.
I’m also reminded of the people who helped stop me lose my big fat pregnant head during the last few days.
So I thought I’d write about them:
Dad. You rang me every morning to see how I was. You didn’t discuss babies or labour or anything mildly related to my huge belly. Instead, you chattered away about the mundane; what you were cooking for supper that night, the latest crossword clue to stump you in The Guardian. Those phone calls helped distract me at a time when I desperately needed distracting. So thank you.
Mum. You were there at the end of the phone when I rang with my first proper pre-birth wobble. The words “your body can stretch in the most amazing way” helped calm me down. You turned up as a surprise that afternoon, with delicious food for a barbecue. I went into labour that night and you rubbed my back. Thank you Mum.
Diz: Aunty Diz, you were there too. You had just finished the most stressful period of your life by completing your final medical exams. Your grinning face and sisterly banter helped me forget the fact I was too huge to fit behind the dining table. You brought your foot spa to soak my swollen feet. You rubbed my back. You were there at the hospital and laughed at me as I mumbled rubbish, high on gas and air.
And then you came back to stay a week later, with cake and casserole. You held my baby when I needed a bath, or sleep. You cooked more food. You put the washing on. You were the best aunty a Frog could have. So thank you.