Two nights ago, at about 1am, I was woken by the following word from my wife:
It took my sleep addled brain a few dozy moments to process that. Then, assuming that the baby had decided it was time to make an entrance, I did the natural thing. Panicked. A thousand thoughts went through my mind. Well, a couple at least. They were: "ohmygodshittingshitit'sfinallyhappeningthebaby'scoming" and then: "calm down, calm down, find out what's going on".
My mouth hadn't quite finished booting up yet, so I said something like "nnngggghhhmmmddight?"
Luckily, Mrs L is good at deciphering my incoherent mumblings.
"It's cramp, really bad cramp in my legs".
I asked whether she was sure, because, y'know, I'd imagine cramp in your legs feels pretty similar to contractions. I blame the fact I was barely awake. Pretty soon I was back to sleep. An hour later it happened again.
Since that night, I've been on code red, Defcon 1 (or 5, I forget which way round that works), super-alert-phone-checking mode. Because it could happen any time now. I might have to exercise the full accelerative ferocity of the almighty Skoda to get to the hospital at the drop of a hat. I've started fending off new pieces of work which people try to give me (to be honest, I do that anyway) and trying to wrap up outstanding bits and pieces. I'm ready for the call, whenever that call may come.
Every single thing we do I find myself thinking "this is probably the last time we'll [insert activity] before the baby arrives".
We're in a period of lasts. Last restaurant meal. Last visit to the cinema. Last game of basketball. Last trip to the supermarket.
It's harder for Mrs L, having to ferry the baby around within her, but the uncertainty is having an affect on me too. I'm not sleeping well (and not just because my Mrs L has developed a very impressive talent for snoring in recent weeks) and I feel a bit fuzzy around the edges. I got all snappy at someone in the office the other day, which is not at all like me. It's quite stressful, having a baby, and we don't even have ours yet.
So come on baby, get a wriggle on. We want to meet you, and I want to stop feeling a compulsion to check my phone every thirty seconds.