By the end of this month, I may be a dad again. If I'm not, then it will only be days away. It is really going to happen again, and I can't persuade myself otherwise, even if I'd like to. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to meet Chesworth No.4, but the anxiety levels are high and there is a big part of me that would really like to postpone it for a while, or to run away to Belgium and avoid the whole thing.
The reminders are there constantly though. Philippa is almost as big as the house, and Mathew keeps asking 'When will Kevin get here?' (for some reason he has convinced himself he's getting a brother called Kevin).
I'll be sitting at work, happily distracted by the latest quote for a new air-conditioning system or something, and then I'll suddenly remember what's imminent, and shudder. I know I'll be happy when it's happened, but there's so much trauma to get through first that it can be overwhelming and terrifying. It's a bit like looking forward to a great movie, but knowing you've got to sit through 20 minutes of ads and trailers before it appears onscreen.
Although it's not like that at all....
RC 3-10-22
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