My aim of this blog, is nothing more then a personal diary of my own to document what has happend in the last 8 months and for the impeding future.

I want a black and white document of what we have endured so that I can look back full of emotion. Raw emotion. To look back and know how bloody cruel life can be but know there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

I want some awareness about lots of different issues and conditions that people have never heard of, that I too had never heard of and to tell people to be kind to themselves in times of need. Really. Take note of that.

It was a Sunday, I am 39 weeks 1 day pregnant and I am fat, extremely hot (summer of 2013 in England any one?!) yes it was the end of July and scorching!

Never have I been so uncomfortable in my own skin then sitting with sweat in my cleavage and all around my bump. Whoever said you bloom in pregnancy is lying. Fact.

I’d had enough.

On that Sunday I had decided one way or the other this baby was coming out of me. I put on a vest top, some shorts I could barely fit into and took to cleaning the floors in my top floor flat! 

I think I probably lasted about 40 minutes before I was sticking to myself and starting to swell like Mr Blobby…

What next? So despite the hot weather and all possible doors, windows and any general hole or gap into the flat open; id heard a hot bath can sometimes make your waters go.

To the bathtub I went!

The whole time I was doing this Steven my partner was out with his friend and due home a bit later on, the mood swings I was having in that weather, I can’t blame him for not wanting to be around me!

Whilst in the bath I took the opportunity that every heavily pregnant lady understands. To complete (or rather attempt) to shave myself.

No seriously, I took shaving for granted because once this basketball was so inconveniently placed in my belly id long ago waved goodbye to my toes, ankles, knees … You get the idea!

I’d done a Damn good job if I do say so myself, perhaps the odd racing stripe down my legs but hey, whose looking! So I guess the bath didn’t work (I guess as a first time mum I was expecting my waters to go and bosh a baby comes flying out in the bath …hmm)

I retreated to my birthing ball, no further forward then I was and sat bouncing away until my partner returned.

I was hungry and it was about 6pm. At this point I’d noticed that all day I haven’t actually been feeling “right” more achey then usual but I put this down to the heat and the ridiculous size of me!

I stood in my shoe box kitchen making myself a chicken madras curry … (Come on, you knew I wasn’t going to just stop for the day I had to try SOMETHING else!) 

It was a lovely curry; really tasty and full of spic, I was half way into eating my curry and Steven was near completion on his chicken steaks.

I’ll never forget I put the fork in my mouth sitting cross legged on the end of my beautiful 4 month old sofa and I can only assume I am wetting myself as I begin to soak through.

I was mortified! But I didn’t need a wee and I can’t stop this flow no matter how hard I tense those all important muscles! I jumped off the sofa and said to Steven “my waters have broken” and I ran into the bah room and stood in my bath tub, a lovelt trail of water behind me and standing in the bath soaked and continuing to soak through.

Wow. Where does all this water come from??!

We panic and laugh deliriously and I have no pain so I calm down and Steven rings my mum and sister and then the labour ward. They tell me to come in, so I shower myself down and get myself presentable.

Just after we’ve established what needs to be done Steven genuinely asks if he can eat and finish his dinner … He stands in the door way with some chicken steaks cheese and tortilla wraps and says he’s hungry.

He’s panic stricken as it is (oh but he could still manage to capture some lovely pictures of me with my waters running down my legs – I’ll spare you the images!) 

I couldn’t be mad, he needs to eat so, I’m not in pain my waters are running clear, you crack on sunshine so I can check all my bags are ready and we can go to the hospital.

By the time we arrived it was about 830pm.

They didn’t need to do an integral examination as they checked my pad and waters and just hooked me to a machine instead. I wasn’t contracting at all and my baby was perfectly happy in there.

When they told me to go home and come back 24 hours later to be induced, naturally I was gutted. I wanted my baby there and then! So I retreated to my home; to test my temperature every hour to check for infection and hopefully get some sleep!