A country bedroom. A bed.
Hannah, sitting on the bed, is trying to write her blog. She looks at the screen, sighing.
She gives up, exhausted, rests, tries again.
Hannah: Nothing to be done.
|“Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes.”
Image from here
I feel like my life is turning into a scene from Beckett’s Waiting for Godot…or in my case, Waiting for Baby. I don’t know how many of you have come across Waiting for Godot, but it’s basically an entire play where the protagonists are waiting for something to happen, but nothing really happens. I feel like I’m living this at the moment.
I’m trying not to take my free time for granted as I know I’m never going to have this freedom again, but it’s just that I’m currently surrounded by “moving house mess” and I can’t stand mess (Hush, I know I’m going to have to get used to it with a small child). So I left the house on Tuesday and went to visit my Mutti, but on the way I decided it would be a good idea to throw myself down the stairs at the train station and bruise my ankle pretty badly…so now I can’t really leave the mess (house) as walking is quite painful! All this coupled with the daily texts and calls from excited friends and family (“Has she arrived yet?”) makes the day draaaaaaag, and I find myself wondering: “Will today be the day?”, analysing every pain and movement, and generally giving myself far too much time to think. I’d do some crafting to take my mind off the impending birth, but everything is in a bag or box, and to be honest I don’t want to add to the mess I’m already faced with.
So I find myself thinking: what if she decides she doesn’t want to come out? Perhaps she’ll just stay in there forever? How on earth am I going to be a Mutti? And then the panic sets in! Oh, with less than a week to go until my due date, will someone please save my sanity?!