I had an elective section planned for 31st.
This was the last possible day I could go into labour naturally.
I was excited. I knew whatever happened. Tomorrow baby would be here. We would meet him, see the little one, hold him, snuggle him. I would have two boys. I would be a mummy to kids. I would have a newborn again. I would be learning to juggle to two. I would be thrown back into the world of night wake up and nappy changes. I was packed and prepared. I was going to make the most of my last day just with one boy. I held my big boy tight, told him I would always love him and always be there for him no matter what. I cried the odd tear. I knew this would be a change for him too. I wanted him to still be happy and still feel loved.
By the evening, once M had been dropped off and inlaws, and K had come home. I was a mess. An emotional scared mess. I knew that tomorrow I was about to be cut open, I was going to be having surgery. I cried and cried. What if things went wrong. What would happen. Would I be strong enough. I double, triple checked bags, I set alarms. I took my tablets. Had my last meal. Knowing that tomorrow. Things would change.
I now know. It was for the SO MUCH better.