Strung tight

I had my last physio session on my arm today. The practitioner kept asking me to relax. Now, that’s not easy when you have a small human smuggled inside your central body cavity, kicking and shoving and causing your vital organs to move out towards your extremities.

When it was clear that I was not going to relax any time soon, the physio commented that I, ‘was as relaxed as a bow talking to an arrow’. Ie, not at all. The mental image conjured up by this German expression did make me laugh though, which broke some of the tension.

I already knew I was just a little stressed. I have been trying to relax and take my mind off things (labour anyone?) by throwing myself into a couple of sewing projects. Sewing is good because it’s a sitting down activity and it can be very absorbing. I’ve just finished making a cheery bag for myself and a little fluffy comforter for Junior Harris (see pics).

Unfortunately, even these tasks made me slightly stressed: halfway through constructing my bag I became convinced that I was going to go into labour that night. Bizarrely, I was more worried that I would have to go to hospital with the bag languishing incomplete on the sideboard, than the fact that I might be facing hours of pain…