Balls

Thankfully, today, she has been absolutely golden. Which has meant I have been able to get most of the party prep done. Phew. Which means I can go to bed at a reasonable time and not stress. The boy has gone to his work's belated Christmas do so I assume he is going to be good for nothing in the morning.

Esther likes her new travel cot now it's full of balls. Although it won't be once she has thrown them all out. At least it's keeping her busy and out of the Tupperware drawer.

This time last year (10:43pm) the boy was holding the hospital shower head directly on the small of my back while I, on tiptoes, squeezed the disabled bar as hard as I could, trying not to scream out loud, fuming that the midwife wasn't coming to check on me for another four hours. Luckily she came in after two just as I felt the need to push.

Although it ended in a c-section I do believe I tried my best and experienced the majority of a natural birth but unfortunately it just wasn't meant to be.

She arrived, a perfect bundle, with the most beautiful skin for a new born. The boy cried, I cried and Esther cried. Then I apologised profusely for my horrific language and explained that I am normally a very nice, placid lady, it must have been the gas and air! Haha!

I should write down everything I remember from the birth. It's something I never want to forget. Everything from being gutted I had new boots when my waters broke, my god it was a gush! To the boy having to phone to cancel a job interview in London. To eating a mountain of homemade flapjack because the boy thought it would give me strength.