plastic babies and boobs

I did not enjoy that.

We were sat in a circle, all clutching a doll and a knitted, stuffed breast (not sure who is responsible for knitting the fake breasts, but jolly well done), and I have never felt bigger or lonely as I did then.

All the other ladies were neat, petite little things. They were also on their last week of pregnancy, most about to pop at their 40 weeks, some even overdue. And were still considerably smaller-looking than me. Some looked like they were wearing normal clothes - as in non-maternity jeans. While mine are splitting at the seams.

"Hi I'm Sarah, and I'm expecting a little girl in, well, she was due yesterday - I am almost 41 weeks!"

"I'm Ingaborg, and I am 39 weeks, just one week to go until I get to give birth in the new birthing pool here. Sooo exciting!"

"Hi, I'm Peas, I'm 29 weeks" [cue gasps]..........."and I am expecting twins sometime...in the next ..I dunno...7 weeks...I think."

Admittedly, I felt smug that I was carrying two babies for about 5 seconds.
Yes people. All THIS and a bag of chips.
Then everything suddenly took an abrupt downhill turn.

While everyone else got one doll and a fairly straightforward lesson of how they should latch their suckling child onto their boob, I was sat there with my two dolls, holding them like rugby balls under my arms and wondering how the fuck I'm feasibly going to breastfeed two squirming babies.

I started to panic inside. Everyone looked so maternal and as though they were actually bonding with the plastic doll, while I held my two feeling completely overwhelmed. I felt like everyone was staring at me, and I didn't have any idea what I was meant to be doing.

My brain has also decided to officially shut off yesterday too. I think I may have an idea of what it might be like to get Alzheimer's now. No really.

I left my suitcase at the hospital, couldn't follow basic directions to the ward, forgot to call about three people yesterday, generally my head is in a new kind of haze and I am finding it very frustrating.
If I don't write every single thing down, or actively have a reminder set somewhere, I will forget.

Somehow I am managing to function at work still, but that's only because I live and die by my calendar and notebook.

Then to top it off, the tube strike meant having to take three buses to get home, in the pouring rain and wind, so by the time I got home, I was a mess.

Back was killing me, my tummy is itching all times of day now as it stretches beyond all aesthetic capacity, and my brain is behaving like a somnambulistic retard.

It was a bad day.

Today will be better. It's the weekend.