It was dark when I left work this evening. Dark as I went to the co-op and parked in an unlit car park in order to buy more de-caf teabags. Dark as I drove home. More sobering was the realisation that I won’t be leaving work again in the light before I, all being well, go on maternity leave. There is 2 and a half months until the shortest day, which coincidently falls half way between now and when I propose to start maternity leave.
The strangest thing about all of this is I still can’t really tell that Pip is in there. Sure, I’ve seen the scan and yes, my stomach is a bit bloated. But I’ve been fatter after supper and the scan is so weird that if someone told me they were mistaken, I wouldn’t find it too hard to believe them. And still, every so often I feel the oddest flutter. Trapped wind or something perhaps, a bit like that nervous feeling when your tummy turns over. Deep down in the lowest part of my abdomen. Not the baby moving, I don’t think, but a bit like what it might feel like I guess, in a few weeks. It gives me a little shiver, a little reminder, that there *is* something in there.
And, in 6 months time, all being well, we’ll get to meet.