I may just have to name 36 weeks whinging week. Seriously. I’m not looking forward to getting on the scales this afternoon at the obstetrician. For a number of reasons.

My hands, feet & face are puffy. I have barely been to the toilet all week. I can’t sleep. Christmas week is a time for eating a lot of food and although I did indulge, the fact that the capacity of my stomach is somewhat akin to a cherry tomato, it was in small frequent amounts.

My skin is dry and itchy.

I feel like if I expand one more milimeter I may pop. And not a nice, neat pop, but an outright explosion. At least then bubba would come out and I’d not have to think about labour. As long as someone’s around to catch her we will be fine.

Even my sinuses are full.