Dr Natasha Bijlani, a consultant psychiatrist at Priory Hospital Roehampton with a specialist interest in women’s mental health issues and pregnancy-related mood disorders, has put together information and advice on how to…

Absolutely massive pants have completely saved me this week. Last week I was pretty much crippled with pelvic girdle pain, which arrived a few weeks ago just as my sickness stopped, and so felt like a double kick between the legs. I was pretty pissed off, trust me.

I had a pedicure this morning, then a two hour nap. I am now eating a BBQ beef Hula Hoops sandwich — officially winning at maternity leave. I finished work on Friday after a rather frenzied scrabble to get everything I wanted done but have now made it to that dream state where you book in doing bugger all, allow yourself treats and pampering and put your feet up.

So today is my due date. Wow. But when I woke up this morning there were no fanfares, no fireworks, no balloons or bunting. No baby either. As I have read approximately 8000 times in my pregnancy apps over the past few weeks, only 4% of babies arrive on their due date, and so this day is of course fairly nominal. It is actually highly likely that it’s the one day I can relax, safe in the knowledge that I won’t go into labour.