39 MY PREGNANCY...

Journalist Rebecca Horan is in the last third of her first pregnancy. So what does it hold for a career- driven woman who is excited, anxious – and has never read a baby book in her life?

AND OTHER SURPRISES Rebecca Horan on her unexpected news – and how she’s coping with it

The countdown has well and truly begun, I am no longer thinking in months and trimesters but instead I’m making plans that centre around hours, days and weeks. This is it, our baby is coming and the sense of anticipation, apprehension and unbridled fear is more palpable every day.

With Labour Day in mind, aside from the psychological and physiological preparation, there are a lot of other tasks to tick off our myriad baby lists. I recently found myself at the bottom of an online rabbit hole regarding hospital bag lists and am tempted to bring the kitchen sink into Holles Street and be done with it.

The differing of opinion on what is needed for the biggest day of your life is slightly overwhelming. In case I go into early labour I have to pack my bag this week and some ‘yummy mummy’ sites insist that I bring enough nighties for a six-night stay in case of a C-section, a well-loved pillow, a TENS machine, three copies of my birthing plan with accompanying presents for the midwives and doctor, a hair straightener for when I have visitors, family photos to distract oneself – oh yes because looking at photos of uncle Geoffrey’s 60th will really ease the pain of labour – 10 nipple pads, an iPad, iPod, gym ball, snacks for both him and her, incense sticks, a massager, nappies for baby and mum, hardbacks, a candle, a Doula and a ‘mobile’ treadmill!

Meanwhile, another – more practical – ‘mummy knows best’ site tells me I merely need to bring two cotton babygros, a pair of baby socks, a towel, a nightie that I don’t mind getting ruined, a comfortable going-home outfit, organic menthol shower cream and a brown bread sandwich for the birthing partner. Lastly, there was the ‘hippy happy mummy’ list, which includes a yoga mat, flax seeds, pre-recorded affirmations to be played on a loop, lavender oil for mid-labour massage, chakra beads, a mini-buddha and a sports bra.

I mean, let’s face it, what on earth do you actually need in hospital for labour except a book entitled ‘How on earth do you become a fully-functioning mum overnight?’

Despite the dreaded hospital bag – which I can eventually see becoming a health hazard and causing an injury as my husband and I try to navigate our way out of our tiny hallway on our way to work or a target for my overly-frisky dog – I recently found myself forgetting all about labour and focusing instead on nesting.

The nursery list is a little less confusing than the hospital list but a little more pricey – there’s the fold-up changing table, co-sleeper, the cot, nappy naturaliser, bottle steriliser, baby mobile, giant toy lion, fur romper suit, 50 babygros, enough nappies for a newborn who goes through 12 a day, a comfortable armchair with reading material for breastfeeding, a dimmer night light, a baby monitor. Oh and a large bottle of whiskey, for me, not her.

I am finding the nesting quite therapeutic, enjoyable and totally natural but also a bit arbitrary, because here we are ordering items, assembling them and then organising them in a room created for somebody who hasn’t even arrived yet, who may hate the Big 5, the colour pink and our make-and- do homemade mobile. But nesting has actually helped with my pre-labour anxiety because it lulls you into a false sense of security and provides you with a much-needed distraction on the long alcohol-free weekends and now activity-free evenings where you have only the dog, an equally exhausted husband and Netflix for company.

Over the past few days, the wind has gone out of our sails, so there’s now a half-painted elephant mural, an unfinished co-sleeper, a hole where the mobile should be and a broken second-hand buggy leaning on a one-legged couch which has been adorned with designer babygros that she’ll probably never fit into.

For now, hospital bags and nursing bras have taken a back seat, instead we are trying to enjoy leaving the house without anybody else to think about but ourselves, enjoying going to the bathroom solo, long warm showers without interruption and quiet, unbroken nights of sleep. That is, until the baby chick comes home to roost and the nesting begins all over again. I can’t wait...