How am I doing?

If you've asked me how I'm doing over the past few days I will have told you I'm fine. Sometimes I may have added in a bit more detail, othertimes not. I appreciate your asking (really!) but I'm so darn bored with the answer that even saying 'I'm fine' can be hard to choke out. I wish I had something more interesting to say - like 'I'm in acute pain every 5 minutes for 1 minute long stretches and have been for the past hour'. That'd be much more interesting to report. Although chances are I'd be ignoring your texts by then. I'm not the best at talking about myself - I prefer to hear about other people and ask rather than answer questions. But here I am at 41 weeks pregnant (which has to be 10 months by anyone's counting, right?) and I feel like I'm been watched warily like an unexploded bomb. Heck, I'm watching myself like an unexploded bomb. A big one that ate all the cake. Even my spam email is taunting me, since 'Destination Maternity' and whoever else they sold my data to knows my due date and is now asking me what the first week of motherhood has been like.

I actually don't really know quite how I am. I'm not massively uncomfortable - a bit, but not ridiculously so... and for the most part I've been sleeping OK. It's just the mental element that's doing me in. This will go down as one of the strangest weeks of my life, where I have done very little and yet every moment has carried with it a weight of anticipation paired with the anticlimax of the moment before when I didn't go into labour after all. 

The snow and predicted snow isn't helping my brain. Even when it's not currently falling and the roads are passable, it makes me feel trapped. Poor Jeremy shoveled the roof snow onto our deck and there's now an actual ski mountain outside our back door. A non pregnant me might consider making it into a sledding hill. The pregnant me just looks and laments and eats mini-eggs. 

So it's just me and the cat, netflix and mini eggs... which isn't all that bad really. In fact it's pretty amazing, or it should be and would be if I could stop trying to think myself into labour. 

By Monday we can all stop watching me because by Monday they'll have induced me and he'll be here (or by Tuesday morning at the latest if I'm in for a long'un). For once I'm thankful I live in America 'cause in England this could be allowed to continue for another 2 weeks and by then I might actually have gone insane.