I went swimming this morning with my mum. I haven't been since I was pregnant and only once then because it just felt so wrong. Back then I'd had visions of me floating serenely around the pool with my bump high and dry and I was so disappointed.
Anyway, the swim was good, it felt good to be weightless, although I got out of breath far too easily. But at 10am the pool started to fill with, yes of course! mothers and babies for the morning mother and baby class. Hey, be proud of me; I kept my cool, I kept in control and then we decided it was coffee (decaf) time.
GAH! The changing room was full of tiny, chubby, gurgling, screaming, crawling, smiling little darlings. My mum of course started cooing over the most perfect baby I have ever seen. Honestly, an ad agency's delight. Perfect skin, button nose, fluffy hair, big beautiful blue eyes. How old? Well yes of course, 7 months old, just the age George would/should/could/might have been. "Please let it be a girl please let it be a girl please let it be a girl". We were introduced to Sophie who smiled and cooed at my mum and then at me. And I smiled and cooed back at her, and touched her perfect chubby cheek. And it was warm.
And then I remembered that breathing is a good thing and exhaled.
Might go swimming on a monday next week.