It’s been a frustrating week, which is why I probably haven’t gone into labor yet.   We were set to close on a property, and it should’ve been done mid June, end of June at the latest as agreed upon by the vendor… just in time for the baby to arrive.  Everything was in place, the survey done, the mortgage ready.   We had even begun to pack up little bits around the flat in preparation for the closing.  Then, without warning, the vendor stopped responding.  The estate agency could no longer get ahold of him, and the property sale came to a halt.

Yesterday we received the news that the estate agency dropped him as a client, on account of the fact he could be heard in the background saying “Tell them I’m not here” when they called his place of employment as a final effort to get a hold of him.  Turns out, he never had any intention of selling his property.  It came to light there was a lean on the property with a debt collection agency and, in order to prevent repossession of the property, he had to at least appear to be trying to sell.  In reality, it was a game he was playing to avoid the collectors… a game which has cost money in solicitor and survey fees, and four months of our time.

But this isn’t over.  We called the collection agency and let them know of the scam.  They agreed quite openly they were holding off waiting for our sale to go through.  Now, he will have the collectors at his door once more. And that’s not the end of it.  He will rue the day he fucked us about.

So the situation has left us at square one just as the baby is due to arrive.  We have to begin the property hunt all over again, only this time with a newborn.  Our current tiny, one bedroom flat will be good until Maddie outgrows the moses basket and needs a proper crib (which we have, collecting dust at Mark’s father’s house).  Given the property size, we have nowhere we can put a crib.  All the baby and nursery stuff I had bought now collects dust instead of being used, and the beautiful nursery I had in mind for Maddie is no longer within reach.

But I am going to try to remain positive and simply think that perhaps there was an even better property out there we were destined to find, and all of this had to happen so that we would be in the right place at the right time in order to find it.

We had 14 property viewings scheduled today.  We’ve seen 10 thus far and have 4 more to  go later this evening. I am exhausted and, to top it off, had a midwife appointment this afternoon among viewings.

I’m 5 days past due now, and my midwife attempted to do a membrane sweep on me in order to hopefully get things to kick off, but was only able to do a partial sweep due to the fact my cervix is still high up.  Yep, high.  And doing nothing I might add, I am not dilated at all. Not even one lousy centimeter.  It’s disheartening, because it feels like my body is a lame duck, unable to go through with this on it’s own, naturally.

So I am scheduled in at the hospital next week to begin other induction techniques.  If the inserted capsules they will try next do not work to soften and open the cervix, I will have to go in for a c-section.

What. The. Fuck.

I feel like the whole situation is being taken away from me.  I wanted a natural birth, I wanted to give birth vaginally, and it feels like the power (so to speak) of the experience is being stolen from me.  I don’t want to recover from major surgery on top of learning how to care for a newborn.  I don’t want to risk being paralyzed for life from an epidural.  I wanted to do this on my own and unless I go into labor in the next 6 days it’s all going to be taken from me.  I know the positive, at the end of the day, the baby will come out and I will have this beautiful, perfect newborn of my own.  But you know what? I am 41 weeks pregnant, I am hormonal, emotional, and crabby and it’s just how I feel right now.

So there.

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Posted Life in the UK |