The Rules of Engagement

When a baby moves a little lower and the head descends into the pelvic cavity, it's called engagement. To my mind, the term sounds like the birth is imminent - not at all - there's still a chance he could move out of position during the next few weeks.

Me: We just have to make sure he doesn't disengage.
W: Er... well I do. You can just watch.
Me: Watch...?
W: Me sitting forward, on the gym ball etc - letting gravity do its work. He has to know the rules. No moving into silly positions.
Me: I'm sure he'll be OK.
W: With a little encouragement.

Pause as W looks down and rubs her bump

W: (talking to the bump) A happy mummy who hasn't been through a traumatic labour is probably in a better position to give you your first feed properly. Just think about that eh?

Already we're bribing him with food...

A Little Bit of Guesswork

Having a chat at work...

Karen: We could have a guess the name competition.
Me: I'm not dropping any hints
Karen: But you've got an idea?
Me: Might have.
Colin: He's not giving anything away.
Karen: OK then, how about a guess the weight competition.
Colin: 10 pounds! All babies these days are 10 pounds.
Me: My wife will be thrilled to hear that...
Colin: It's true!
Me: I don't think so.

Pause as we talk about a few other things 

Karen: So... is W quite big now?
Me: As big as you might expect at eight months...
Colin: He's not giving anything away.
Me: Nope!

Streeeetch

 How do you know when to comment and when to keep schtum?

W: I was speaking to the midwife earlier today and asked her about my stretch marks.
Me: What did she say?
W: I told her I didn't know I had any until the other day my husband told me they were there.
Me: (sheepishly) Sorry, I thought you could see them.
W: Oh yeah, like I can see anything past the bump.
Me: I thought I was doing you a favour. It was a few weeks ago when I first noticed and I didn't think you'd want me to draw attention to them.*
W: She just said not to worry - wear them as a badge of honour.

*A classic example of digging the hole a little deeper for myself.

Gravity

At about 34 weeks, the foetus really needs to be getting into an anterior position. This essentially means thay he should be facing downwards with his face pretty much towards the spine. The other way round (face to front) is called a posterior presentation. Guess who's been paying attention in NCT classes? W went to the midwife earlier this week to get this checked out. 

Me: How'd it go?   
W: Good. Gravity's doing its thing.
Me: Great!
W: But there's still time for him to move to the other way.
Me: He won't will he?
W: I don't know! He seems to do what he wants!

Any reference to Flaily's decision-making abilities always draws my mind forward 17 years or so, when he storms out of the house shouting something like 'I can do what I want!'.

We sit and W loosens the waistband of the her maternity jeans and runs a hand across the bump.

Me: So he's 'anterior'...
W: Look at you with your fancy lingo.
Me: I remember a lot from the classes.
W: (pointing to the centre and [her] left of the bump) He's got his back down here...
Me: That's why the bump looks so firm.
W: And his legs and elbows out to the right a bit - that's why he gives me so much grief on this side. (addressing the bump) Little monster!

As if to cue, we both witness a rippling movement across the bump.

W: Yeah, see!

I place a hand on the same spot but feel nothing.

W: Well, what do you know? 'Hand of Dad' calms everything down.
Me: Cool!
W: If it works, you'll be doing the night time soothing.
Me: It was probably just a coincidence...

I'll keep you all posted on how this works out.

Slow-moving Person

We're walking to the station together.

W: I hope I'm not going to make you late.
Me: I've got plenty of time.
W: It's just that I'm slowing you down a bit.
Me: Nothing to worry about, honestly.
W: It took me 20 minutes to do this 10-minute walk yesterday.

We walk a bit further...

W: I can't even bend properly either. What happened there?
Me: Little flaily...
W: I know! It was a rhetorical question.

And into the next road...

W: But I am determined* not to waddle.
Me: Nope, still no waddling here.

*Regular readers will remember the origins of this determination. 

Ready and Waiting

The nursery is done. Our former study/second bedroom/room of stuff now has a chest of drawers, a cot and various boxes with baby things (clothes, nappies etc).

Me: So... we're done.

W smiles. I smile too.

Me: It's rather like being ready ultra early for a party - all dressed up and no one has arrived yet.
W: Kinda. Three weeks before I hit full term.
Me: I won't get the nibbles out then...
W: Eh?
Me: I was carrying on with the party analogy.
W: Oh, I see.

Pause

W: Of course he won't actually be in here until he's about 6 months.
Me: I know that.

(Inner monologue) Did I know that? Yes, of course I knew that...

W: (reading my mind) But we wouldn't want him to be affected by the paint fumes etc.
Me: Oh no, of course not.

We look around again.

W: I like this room.
Me: We've done a good job.

W smiles. I smile too.

Future Bedroom

I took today off to do a spot of decorating - namely Flaily's future bedroom. W texts me at midday to check on my progress. (We're not big on textspeak by the way.)

W: How's it going?
Me: Good, nearly done the first coat.
W: Already? That was quick.
Me: Lemon tropic goes on like a dream - beauty of the paint pod.
W: How's the yellow looking?
Me: From the hallway, it looks like the room is glowing. Like that briefcase in Pulp Fiction.
W: Are you saying there was a baby in that briefcase...
Me: What? No!
W: OK! Just saying. 

A little later, I begin the second coat and another text arrives.

W: Thinking about it, there's some other jobs that need doing... 

Later this afternoon, after the second coat, more texts.

Me: What would you like for dinner?
W: Did you get my last text?
Me: Pasta? Salad? Pizza?
W: I can send you a list of jobs...
Me: Pizza it is then.