This has to be the most minimalist hospital bag I have ever packed. Enough stuff to throw in a cupboard without looking if Marmite doesn’t come home, enough stuff to last until someone goes home to get more if he breathes. If he goes to scbu then he won’t need clothes or nappies from home anyway.

I need a decent nightie. I might buy one. It’s a damn sight easier to deal with the practical stuff, the pads and the knickers, than it is to deal with hunting out newborn babygros without actually looking at them. The going home coat that all the girls used and Freddie never did is in a bag I can leave at home till later. I’m not making the mistake of taking that with me again. I can handle the irrefutable fact that my body will need certain items afterwards, but not that a baby might.

Somewhere in the breast cream and the toy which I’ve secretly hoarded for 18 months, there has to be some shred of optimism I suppose. It’s just very hard to find it today. With a bit of luck I might even get his other blanket finished in time. He might even get to use it.

I’ve been trying so hard to shop for this baby, but I really just can’t. And we do need things, things I would like to have some excitement choosing. We’ve no crib here, I’ve got no sling, no carseat and nothing to change a baby on. We’ll manage perfectly well without most bits, but trying to have enough faith to buy a newborn baby carseat should not be so troublesome when I only have a 0.5 chance of not needing it. I’m sad not to be able to buy just something as a going home outfit because I really do want to. It shouldn’t be this type of a big deal.

But it just is. So much of all of this is just such a big fucking deal. Packing a hospital bag for the sixth time should not be enough of an effort that I have to write a blog post about it just to give myself enough momentum to actually get through it.