It's quite frightening to think that in two weeks time we could be sat on the train making our way down to London.
I know that we're going to the best Hospital in the UK, I know we're lucky that the condition was detected in the first place and that we've been able to set the wheels in motion to give Martha the best chance - but that doesn't make it any easier.
As much as I am hoping they have a bed and cot for us so that nothing is delayed...a small part of me hopes there will be delayed, just so I have a few more days of being a normal Mammi who is pregnant with her third baby.
We still haven't told Osh about the complications or that we're even going away to London for the birth. I don't want to give him to much time to worry about the whole thing - he's so deep, he would say he's ok and that he isn't worried, but I just know he'd be thinking all kinds of scary stuff.
How much do kids really need to know?? (answers on a postcard please)