By the time you read this, I will have hopefully delivered our second child. This despatch comes to you from the balcony of our south-facing apartment. I’m basking in the glow of the early swpring sun, overwhelmed by all the newness that has burst forth. Trees in ecstasy, speckling white, pink and rose-red blossoms, surrounded by bees and other cross-pollinators. After more than a week of cloudy skies, the heavens seemed to have gaped open. What a lovely time to prepare for birth.

I feel relaxed and ready. Perhaps because I allowed myself the time I needed to nest, to get our home in order. All our cupboards are organised, our storeroom has been rid of redundancies, my bookshelves have been cleaned and sorted, our toddler’s toys neatly sorted… We got a whole stash of newborn clothes from a friend, which means hundreds of euros saved. The crib has been set up, the blankets have been washed and readied, and our new Manduca carrier has arrived too. We are sorted on perhaps every front. As someone who has had to wrestle once again with gestational diabetes, I am so looking forward to not having to monitor my blood sugar four times a day and not having to inject myself with insulin in order to process a basic meal.