Yesterday afternoon, I suddenly began to feel hysterical. As if I were drunk, unable to focus on conversation, on food shopping, giggling uncontrollably as Marto paid for our food. Back at home, I had a huge burst of energy, cleaning the bathroom and dusting the entire flat. I felt like I was hallucinating at times, seeing spiders running on the floor out of the corner of my eyes, laughing at unfunny comedy shows that I wasn’t really watching. My skin has turned dry and spotty, after weeks of looking good.
After we went to bed, I started to get bad period pains and my tummy started going hard, every ten minutes or so. I lay and dozed, occasionally hissing furiously at the cat to stop scrabbling and disturbing me. At about 7am I fell asleep again, the practice contractions fading away, although the period pains remain.
I have spent the morning lying in bed, reading, feeling lethargic and unsettled. That cat finally sleeping next to me, alternate rain bashing on the window with bright sunshine. I am trying to finish French Children Don’t Throw Food. Every chapter or so I open online shopping windows on my iPad, or birth books on Amazon, wondering whether to buy them, whether that will give me the answer to the question of when will labour start. It’s not that I’m not enjoying these final stages of pregnancy, I really am, I just would like to enjoy it properly without this nagging questioning of ‘what does this feeling mean’.
There are still things left on my to-do-list: pay tax bill, set up council tax, paint my nails, bake a cake, have a shower. And yet I can’t quite bring myself to do any of them. And I’m driving myself mad.