I've started to feel a bit like the bottle that holds the ship. It was relatively simple getting all the necessary bits in, and they arranged themselves in a logical order to create something amazing. But now how do I get the ship back out? And how do I do it without breaking the ship or the bottle? And the ship just keeps getting bigger!
Every morning I wake up disappointed that the baby and I are still inhabiting the same body. I'm starting to experience the worries that I'm sure come to every new mother. Will she be late? Will she be healthy? Am I mentally and physically ready to give birth? More importantly, will I totally embarrass myself during the delivery? Shriek too scarily? Break down and cry? Try to leave? Poop? Will Mr Accident still respect me afterwards?
When I start to worry too much I think about the Queen - if she gave birth and then went on to rule a country while wearing pearls, I reckon I just might be okay.