Thankfully, Meg's mother has come over to be with her while I'm on my official duties over here. Without her, there would be no chance of getting away at all. Ever. So right now, as I take a break to sit & think, how am I doing? I'm freaking right the f*** out.
There's the issues that I'm missing that I would love to be home for - we just hired a new driver & I would love to be there to make sure he's doing a good job & getting paid on time, etc. We're supposed to be meeting with paediatricians, but that's turning out to be a bit more of a mission than expected. Meg's getting way bigger than any of us imagined, and there's no one there to rub her feet and back the way she likes it. And of course, there's the imminent threat that the baby will arrive. There's no avoiding it, and there's no predicting when it'll happen. Like a runaway freight train of inevitability, it's going to hit us whether we're ready or not.
The big one is paediatrics. We thought we had a good team lined up - but as it turns out the doctor has adopted the more 'traditional' style of neonatal care - the kind that John Cleese and his Monty Python mates would be familiar with... The new thinking is to leave the new born with the mother to bond just after birth, however the doctor that was recommended to us insisted on isolating our baby for 12 hours immediately after birth. Now if there were any risks present I might understand, but there are none. We have had an almost too easy pregnancy, health wise, for mother & bub, and the last thing either of us want is for our baby to be ripped from our arms into the void of some Philippine hospital. I mean, it's bad enough giving your purchases to a cashier at a department store. There's no way I'm letting my baby out of my sight.
Here, thankfully, absolutely none of the attention is on me... It's all on the couple getting married, and on someone else about to have a more royal baby...