At some point around week 30 I found myself having some sort of identity crisis: I felt keenly that my professional sense of self was slipping – and the alternatives that presented themselves were not working for me. The first was inspired by my mother who emailed me a link with a nappy changing bag she wanted to buy me. It said ‘Yummy Mummy’ on the front. Crikey.
At the other end of the spectrum, a colleague was telling her birth story. Towards the end of labour things had slowed down, and the midwife suggested she try sitting on the loo ‘like she was going to have a poo’ (her words). The tactic was successful and she eventually gave birth on all fours, completely naked and (her words again) ‘yowling’, her bottom sticking out of a teeny bathroom cubicle with three midwives and her husband crowded in the doorway poised to catch the baby. I visualised myself in a similar circumstances and was confronted by the realisation of our base human function on this planet. Not something my day job usually calls for. So, director of an international ad network, yummy mummy or animalistic biological reality...? [CONTINUED]
In today's bulletin:
How the politicians are skewing the property market
Debenhams cashes in - and Easter boosts high street sales
At last: Twitter has a plan for making money
Ryanair tries to confiscate journo's flat over 'bet'
The Parent Project: Who am I?