March 24: Don't panic

I am slowly beginning to panic about the logistics of my up-coming birth (not my birth, obviously.. Bump's birth..) This is because I live in Bristol but I'm still medically registered over the bridge in Wales. I had my operation there, and recuperated back at the old family home, and went for post-operative check-ups there (and my small baby scans). So now, I'm just in their system; the midwives know me, the consultants know me; the receptionists know me; even the man who carries out surveys each week on whether women are taking their Folic Acid or not knows me (I steal his pens). Last time I met my consultant, I came clean and told her I've pegged it to England and asked if I should switch my care here for Bump's arrival, but she thinks it's best I stay in Cardiff.
Easy to say. But how the hell am I supposed to get there when Bump wants to arrive?
'Can I drive myself,' I asked.
The consultant looked at me in one of those ways that makes you feel very small, and said: 'Contractions can last for fifty seconds. You can't drive.'
I think: 'I'd get there quick though, wouldn't I, with my foot to my floor.'
My school friend offered to be on call - then remembered she'd be in Mexico on holiday at the time.
My mum has offered to stay with me for the two weeks surrounding the due date so she can drive me over. But is an in-labour woman really geared up for a car drive? Will I leak? I've got no bloody idea.
Then there's the worry about when to get over there. As soon as Labour starts? But where do I loiter if the hospital says I'm not ready to come in. Mum's house is no-more. My sister has sold her house so she'll be out of it in a month. But as yet she hasn't found a new one so I guess she and her daughter will be staying at dad's, along with all their boxes.
Can I go there and just loll about at his house amongst the chaos? Somehow, it sounds grim.
I've also got to stay 'consultant-led care' which is also worrying as I'm not sure why.
'You've had major surgery in the last few months, that's why,' they say.
But what do they think is going to happen? Am I going to rupture? Is my scar going to split open? Am I going to burst? Are they going to want to strap me to a bed and monitor me? They better bloody not.
Then there's the problem of after-care. Midwives like to visit, don't they, to check mother hasn't murdered their newborn. Or sat on it. Or eaten it. I'm not hanging around dad's house for weeks on end. So they'll have a long way to travel to find me.
Who are these people who have easy lives all in one place?

***

At yoga earlier on this week, one of the women mentioned Hypno-birthing. I'm always slightly skeptical of such things. I imagine Paul McKenna saying, in a very relaxed slow voice, 'And now push' while you scream your lungs out in agony.
I think I might just be able to wangle writing a feature about it and so get the course for free, so I ring the woman.
She is very nice, and frankly, just too damn good at quietly and efficitiently rail-roading you into doing it. Before I know it, I've told her my whole life-story and signed up. It is geared towards couples, or a woman and her birthing partner, but I've convinced her to just let me come on my own (with Bump of course). If it works, and stops you tearing in two, or getting butchered or having some horrendous problem (one of the women in yoga had a prolapse in her last birth which left her having to - and I quote - 'carry around a Tesco carrier bag of loose vagina for two months') - I'm all for it.

I'm also beiginning to panic about names. They are very tricky when you are trying to decide on your own. I know Father-to-be won't like anything I pick. I am on letter A of my baby-naming book. So far, Bump is being called Albie (which my sister kindly said was the name of a horse she once rode that kicked her off. 'It was a nice horse though,' she quickly added).
I add up the days. I've got about two months left. How many letters are there in the alphabet? 26? I can't remember. So, what's that? A letter every two days, should Bump not arrive early? Goodness, I better get reading.