I'm 29 weeks tomorrow and, having read far, far too many birth stories and remembering DS's birth, I've decided I'm having none of this and that DH can go through childbirth this time. I don't want a knackered fanjo and for total strangers to see me at my worst. I don't want to shit a watermelon for hours and hours and hours. I don't want consatipation for five days after the birth. Let Mr Grumpy have this one. He's spent all day with a face like a slapped arse; he might as well have the heartburn, piles, inability to tie shoelaces and mood swings of a pregnant woman (oh, hang on...
).
Get me out of heeeeeeeerrrre! I've changed my mind!
DISCLAIMER: I do still want a lovely, snuggly, fluffy newborn to squidge, though.