We celebrated Christmas day– as we normally did – with family down south. Our aunty and uncle always serve up a mountain of marvellous food for the festive day, and this Christmas was no exception. With all that food there was always leftovers, which everyone normally expected me to vacuum up, even after I might have already had a second (or, er, third) helping. For some inexplicable reason, over the years I had developed a reputation for having a boundless appetite.
Not this year. Jas suddenly became the family hoover: the presence of our unborn child quietly lurking beneath the dining table had the result of still-half-filled dishes of roast potatoes being pushed in Jas’ direction for her to soak up. Maybe he was doing his Jedi mind trick again. Or maybe those dishes were moving by themselves, magnetically levitating towards Jas’ plate...
We had our first antenatal class at our local hospital. It was quite good and very interesting – the midwife was a great teacher and explained things simple enough for us all to understand, with the aid of very sad and very floppy doll. And it is interesting how the process of pregnancy removes the shyness people might normally have in that situation. Take a group of people without any experience of pregnancy and discuss with them, in intimate detail, the operation of their personal parts and you’re likely to sense some squirming and general modesty. Pregnant couples in the same situation? Nothing is particularly confronting or personal. One of the more outspoken lasses in the class demonstrated this rather graphically when she piped up and asked the midwife: “What would be the position of my baby now? I think his feet are down here because I can feel it kicking my vagina”. Precious.