Week 35


I was having a few relaxing ales in a pub with Rob one evening when my phone went off. I’d started to be on high alert now that we were getting to the pointy end of the pregnancy, so I jumped a bit when the phone rang, though partly it was because my trousers had started vibrating. It was indeed Jas, and she was very excitable. “It’s come out!” I nearly fell off my stool. “What? What has?” What had I missed?! “Milk! I’ve got milk!” Now I’m normally one to get more excited about beer than milk, but this was indeed an interesting development. Jas had held a little baby earlier in the day; we’d heard stories about women spontaneously lactating when holding a hungry bub, but Jas’ leaky booby did seem to be pretty clear evidence of this phenomenon. When I ended the call it looked as though Rob was in mild shock after hearing the one-sided conversation...

A simple plan
      We needed a birth plan. I thought, no problem:
       1. Give birth (Jas)
       2. Open champagne (Richard)

Apparently more detail was required: At home or in hospital? A water birth? What drugs should we Jas have, if any? Should I cut the cord? Apparently you can buy birthing pools for home use. I imagined a spa-sized pool, at home, in our lounge room, in front of the TV...and wistfully thought that if I could find something to generate some bubbles, Saturday night watching football highlights with a beer could become a whole new experience....

We’re always asked “Have you thought of any names?” We have, but we’ve decided not to decide until we see the little one. We figure (and hope) that the choice will be obvious. If he is indeed a “he”, then when we meet him in person he might just look like a Cornelius, a Saffron or a Gustav. (Just joking mum...Cornelius really isn’t on our list.) Maybe we’ll read out a bunch of fancied names and see how the baby responds to each. I think a poo would mean “no”. We heard a very humorous story of a father who - already having a daughter called Heidi – argued with his wife about naming his newborn son Zeek, on the grounds that he wanted to be able to call his kids “Heid & Zeek”. Priceless.

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