Here comes the fall

For the last week I've been on maternity leave, prefaced by that holiday feeling where I look at my desk and the papers thereon, and feel certain I'm never coming back. I've slipped into it slowly, still feeling that I ought to be paying attention to emails, and still feeling that heartfelt sense of anguish when I hear we've lost business to the competition, as well as being irked by office politics and not being copied in (I still have to run this business when I go back...). I think I may still be in denial about what is about to happen, but now we have a timetable: because of the gestational diabetes, I'm not going over the due date. My mum arrives on Tuesday and I check in to the hospital on Sunday, unless he decides to arrive sooner.

One of the other pitfalls of pregnancy has been visited upon me: falling over in the street. More specifically, it was Sydney Road, on the way back from the IGA supermarket, and without warning, in awful slow motion, I tripped and dived to the pavement. I took most of my weight on the heels of my hands, and apart from scuffing my toenail varnish (Graphite, in case you wondered), the only real injury suffered was to my already-shredded dignity. Falling over is surprisingly common and all the (mostly terrible) baby books mention it: the result of an altered centre of gravity and heightened clumsiness (in my case).

To add to the humiliation, a helpful drunk raced across the road from the pub, dodging the traffic of Sydney Road with scant regard for his own safety, grabbed me by the arm and tried to haul my not inconsiderable frame off the pavement.