I'd heard all about the nesting instinct from my women friends and family and, while not exactly dismissing it as a load of old guff, I'd thought to myself on more than one occasion that when struck with such urges, I would find it difficult to tell whether or not I personally was experiencing it.
This is because, knowing myself as I do, I have a 'slight' tendency towards obsessive organisational behaviours anyway, and usually have to have everything around me in its proper place, pretty much all the time.
I'm one of those annoying people you know with a very neat desk, precision folded and organised linen cupboard, immaculate kitchen cupboards and perfectly made bed. Don't get me wrong – I'm not gloating here – I know how tiresome this is to those around me, it's simply that I have always taken comfort in the process of tidying up.
A pile of washed towels requiring folding is like a 20-minute therapy and relaxation session to me. (In fact, as an aside, perhaps it is this sort of ritual I should be imagining for my birth visualizations?). The very idea of having to let go of this obsessive domestic control post-baby is one of my biggest pregnancy anxieties, and so nesting? Bah, piece of cake.
Anyhow, I thought I had been nesting all along as one of my natural behaviours, but it would appear that I was oh so very wrong. Two nights ago, I woke up to the usual baby gymnastics session in my belly at about 2:30am. And instead of stroking my belly and drifting in and out of sleep until his movements eased like I've been doing, I was suddenly wide awake. The cogs in my brain began to whirr alarmingly, and, before I knew it, I was making a long and exhaustive mental list of simply everything that needed to be done before our little treasure made his appearance. I had an almost overwhelming feeling of running out of time to get things done, or else. Or else what, I do not know, but it was all I could do to get myself back to sleep (more than an hour later after the list compilation of course).
The next morning, said list was committed to paper (which always makes me feel slightly better) and I was off – the supermarket and chemist needed visiting so I could stock up on food and toiletries, onions were chopped for pasta sauce and casseroles that had to be frozen in batches for later meals and every last email received in the last three months needed answering. Phone calls to those I hadn't spoken to for ages needed to be made and black outs sewn onto the curtain backs in the baby's nursery had to be completed ASAP (even though the plan is to have him sleep in our room for the first six months).
Ah, so this was nesting? Kinda makes sense now...
Have you had any overwhelming urges to nest? What things did you do?