It's been 52 weeks.. And I am officially 40 weeks

This day, 52 weeks ago, I was awake at the crack of dawn tormenting my mother, sister and bridesmaids with a lovely song "we're going to the chapel and we're gonna get married"... It is exactly one year since a team of ladies arrived in a hotel room, made me look the best I've ever, or will ever, look and I headed off in my lovely Guna to marry my lovely husband! 

And here we are now, 52 weeks on, 40 weeks pregnant and not a sign of that team of ladies to help me look glam. My wedding dress now shudders at the sight of me and my tummy! "You'll not be putting me on" she says! "Go find yourself something elasticated and come back to me when the baby has come".

And when will the baby come!? When? Seriously? I want to know. Clearly it has not been given my penchant for being 15 minutes early for everything or else it would have arrived at 11.45 last night. It must take after it's father so... Always late! Due date schmue date! All lies. I don't know why they don't just say to you "listen love, some time in April the baby will arrive. Not going to give you an actual date, just be ready in April". And as for Braxton bloody Hicks. False hope is what they should be called. False hope!

So today I sit thinking about the best day of my life so far, waiting for the best thing we ever did to arrive! My eviction notice has not worked. Promises of ponies and trips to Disney land have not worked. Patience is one of the few virtues I do not posses, so that won't work.  If anyone has any tips to help me evict my lovely lodger, please, get in touch as let me know!