Sunday, March 22, 2009
the waiting game
Just six days now before I'm officially due to do some birthing.
My brain is like a hand minus its opposable thumb. It goes: pat (soft) pat (kitty) pat (tummy) etc, but cannot hold on to a coherent thought. Constructing sentences is like groping in the dark for the light switch; my language synapses have broken giving me a glimpse of some darkling future dementia...
All this though helps protect the brain from SHEER PANIC at the thought of labour and dealing with a newborn. Its like being on a nice little cocktail of selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, valium and a glass of red wine.
la, la, la,