Well, actually, it started last night. Went to bed, and the usual drumming Plum-fest began. Now C has never felt more than the odd kick of any of our boys – no idea why, but as soon as he tries to feel, they’ve all gone pretty quiet. He never felt Toby move once, due to a very thick frontal placenta acting as a cushion.

But none of them have ever matched Plum in the exercise stakes. So I placed his hand on my side, and he laid there enthralled for ten minutes whilst Plum hammered away on my insides. It’s like a military tattoo, interspersed with the odd flying kung-fu kick, honest. The expression on C’s face was just amazing. Old seen-it-all-before-dad was gooey & fluffy to the core.

This morning, boys all got ready like a charm, we dropped Jolly at nursery then headed into school, amidst much loud singing and giggling. Walking from the car the boys had an energetic game of ‘it’ going, more giggles, one happy-with-life mumma watching, feeling all proud and maternal and content (hormonal? MOI?).

Then came the long drive to the hospital, the 20 minute hunt for a car parking space, the mad dash into the hospital already 10 minutes late. Still had to wait of course…

Anyhoo, consultant calls me, chatted about my notes, checked bp (fine), Plum’s heartrate (fine), Plum’s movements (‘energetic’ – and he gave a fluffy smile when Plum booted the doppler wand). Then we settle down to plan all the pain-in-the-arse monitoring for Obstetric Cholestasis from here on in.

Only guess what? The guidelines have changed, according to all the new research that’s been done. NO automatic regular monitoring. NO automatic 37 week induction. NO unnecessary intervention.

All together now Yee-Bloody-HAAAAA!

So I’m back next Thursday for a scan and more bloods, then it’s weekly bloods just with the normal midwife to check liver functions. As and when they become an issue, they just watch the levels, watch baby movements (in other words, listen to what I say), check how I’m doing, and we play it by ear. If I don’t get too bad, there’s every chance I’ll go beyond 38 weeks, maybe even 39 – maybe even kick off naturally.

I walked out with a beam a mile wide .

I can’t tell you the relief. Firstly, despite reading everything I can lay my hands on relating to OC, and trusting the doctors implicitly, living with the knowledge that my body is crap and could cause my baby to die at any random point with no prior warning always sits at the back of my brain, and is a constant gentle tug. To have that worry lifted – even slightly – just feels like heavenly bliss, and I feel like I’ve been given permission to start getting attached to this baby beating at my ribs.

Secondly, on a more selfish note, this means that the in-laws can go home after Christmas, and we can maybe have a normal New Years, maybe even stretching the baby out till middle of January.

But I’m not done yet…

I get home to find C’s had a phone call from the Features Editor at Prima Baby. They want to send a heavily pregnant journalist in the next few weeks to ‘test drive’ the Pregnant Pause package, as they want to feature it in their February issue on ‘Mummy-moons’ (as opposed to honeymoons, geddit?).

Add to that the hugely successful nursery shoot that one of his photographers did this week… Ohh, can’t tell you. Last week was a horrible, miserable, dark place to be for a number of reasons.

What a difference a few days makes!

The only down side is C is, as I type, back at the docs – he was healing really well, but a small bruise has got blacker and blacker and larger and larger, and he now has a really painful golf ball sized lump where there shouldn’t ought to be one. I have a sneaky suspicion he has a small internal bleed… and he’s supposed to be in Winchester on a shoot tomorrow. Fingers crossed its just normal bruising.

There. sorry to have whittered on, but needed to share! I haven’t even got started on the football kit or the mug shot of me in practical parenting…