The Final Countdown

They say time is relative.

Well, when you’re pregnant time becomes relatively terrifying because it goes so bloody fast. We’re in the final stretch now, and every week seems to pass at a ludicrously quick rate. We were at our first parentcraft class only a few days ago (blog incoming about that). Except it wasn’t a few days ago. It was a whole week ago. We have another one to go to tonight.

Where did those seven days go?

These weeks have been flying in since Jenny has been pregnant. The other day we ran into the nurse that took us in for our first appointment at 8 weeks, a day on which we saw our little ‘un for the first time as a speck on the scan, a day where we were incredibly happy at the joyous news, a day which feels like it was only about a month ago.

It was December. DECEMBER.

And although Jenny’s belly has gotten bigger and bigger as time has moved on, it doesn’t feel as though that much time has passed, but at the same time it feels like we’re charging ever closer to the arrival. The weeks are zooming in but the months don’t register for some reason. Maybe it’s because you deal with pregnancy in weeks and you spend so long in double figures that when you hit single figures as we have now you realise there’s not much time left. If I say two months that sounds like ages away, but if I say seven weeks that makes me start to hear the Countdown clock in my head and Europe starting their soundcheck.

And I’m suddenly worried I’ve only got a four letter word for Carol Voderman (guess which one?), and I don’t know any of the lyrics apart from ‘doodoo doo doooooo, doodoo doo doo doo, doodoo doo dooo, doodoo doo doo doo doo doo.’

It’s the final countdown.