So I’ve kissed goodbye to 35 weeks and now the countdown can really begin. Just one more week and I’ll be officially considered ‘full term’. I’ve done all my homework and collated a bunch of natural labour inducers (from the whacky to the scientific) and plan to pack them all in over the next few weeks. My diet will consist of raspberry tea, curry and pineapple (I expect I’ll get some strange looks in Tesco when stocking my trolley with this lot) and my evenings will spent frantically trying to fit in hour slots of Wii, bouncing on gym balls, breast pumping, and sex.

Too much information? Trust me they’ll be nothing glamorous about it!

In other news, I had my final midwife appointment last week. I had been really looking forward to sharing the news that Mini Madam had nosedived but unfortunately my midwife was at a conference. To my frustration, the stand-in was the very midwife we moved GP surgeries to avoid with this baby. Luckily, I didn’t have any real concerns to raise so could just about tolerate her lack of English, half-arsed conversation, and generally scattiness. We just have one more consultant appointment and scan left to go then we’re home free. No more weeing in pots or being poked and prodded until D Day.

Unfortunately, most of the exciting symptoms I’ve experienced over the last few weeks have dried up now. I’m still getting random tightenings and I can feel her exerting pressure on my pelvic bone whenever I’m upright, but the actual contractions have stopped. All this downward momentum has led to even more frequent trips to the loo which is beginning to get on my wick. I seem to be up every single night at 2.29am for a quick pit-stop so the Mystic Meg in me is wagging her finger furiously.

In truth, I’d be hugely relieved if this turns out to be middle of the night dash to the hospital as the drama will give me less time to tot up all my little niggles with the NHS. If I’m stuck on a hospital bed all day you can bet both Craig and I will be swapping complaints under our breaths and generally making a nuisance of ourselves. I’m actually a fairly placid person but I tend to lose all power of diplomacy when I’m feeling nervous or frustrated.

The biggest concern right now is that I’ve become a real basket case. I spend most of day crying, slamming doors and generally ranting. I’d make a great a candidate for Gogglebox but I won’t be winning any Parent of the Year awards anytime soon. I think these last few weeks are definitely going to test my metal as I’m now really frustrated, tired, and fed up. I struggle to pick up Dexter so he’s bored to death and acting up as much as I am. I tried to do some pregnancy yoga yesterday, but let’s just say it doesn’t have the desired effect when you’re being pelted with wooden puzzle pieces when your eyes are closed.

Right that’s it. Let’s get week 36 out of the way and I’ll start blogging about my ‘experiments’ to try to tempt her out. Over and out.