pregnancy

We took the belly to the gynaecologist the other day for another check. After a bit of mucking about with clear toothpaste and her echo scanning thingy, the baby doctor explained that all is looking well. Mrs.B is not having those dangerous series of contractions any more. The extra days of rest have worked - even the doctor remarked that she is not bouncing off the walls any more.

However, it's not clear whether Mrs.B's cervix has thinned or not - it just may have. so this Friday she has to have another check-up just to be on the safe side. If she passes that one, we can go on holiday to France. If we can't go, I may develop contractions.

What's also clear is that we're going to get a whopping baby, his or her measurements are well above average. Seems like Wolf is not going to push this little brother or sister around!

We went to the gynaecologist's yesterday for the four-weekly check-up. The baby is fine and growing fast - which came as no surprise because Mrs.B just received a honorary membership card from the international ballooning society.

But the doctor's verdict on the mother's health was less positive. My sweet bouncing ball has had too much on the agenda recently. Our weekends are packed with birthday parties, spring celebrations, open school days (our first one!) and various social occasions. And her work has been driving her mad lately. She was supposed to have another colleague to assist her by now, but given that this person has yet to be hired, she's doing a double job while being five months into her pregnancy.

So the doctor was adamant: if she continues to work and live like this with stress levels going through the roof, the baby may come too soon. Much too soon. So Mrs.B has to calm down now or face lying down for weeks in the near future. Amongst other things, that would mean cancelling our vacation in France.

Now calming down Mrs.B is not as easy as it may seem. In fact it's easier to tranquillize a charging rhinoceros with a syringe and a catapult, with a dose that's just enough for a small dog so you would shoot him about fifty times and retrieve the syringe before he gets to you. Trust me on this, I've tried.

So the gynaecologist looked very stern every time my wife uttered 'But I have to do this and that' and gave her the rest of the week off. And the coming weeks she can only work four days out of five. And she has to take medication. And if that doesn't work more rest will be described. And it's strictly forbidden to use that time to clean up the house or anything like that.

That baby needs to stay inside for another six weeks, at the very least. Another eight weeks and we'll be on a much safer side. But twelve weeks is definitely better.

We really hope the baby will hang in there until the end of August.

Today, Mrs.B is exactly 20 weeks pregnant, according to the gynaecologist. How she knows when exactly we played 'hide-the-salami' is a mystery to me. Maybe she goes around at night and peeps through the windows of her clients. I don't know.

Anyway, everything is fine with the baby. We decided not to ask whether it's a boy or a girl, and so far neither my wife nor myself has spontaneously burst into flames out of sheer curiosity. Of course, the gynaecologist is all knowing smiles when we speculate what it's going to be.

I hope it's a baby girl, if not now then the next time, or the next time, or the next time. I'll put five-story bunk beds in every room of this house if I have to!

When she was pregnant of Wolf, Mrs.B happily explained to everyone that wanted to listen (or not) that she felt great and wasn't experiencing any symptoms of nausea or intestinal unrest or cramps or any of that stuff that other women sometimes experience during the first three months of pregnancy.

Oh hubris!

People strolling around in Antwerp may notice the regular pattern of puddels of slime in some streets and public places. It is a sure sign that my fast expanding bumblebee has been around. For this time she regurgitates more than an owl with a hiccup. What goes down, must come up. It's lunch revisited. And breakfast, and diner, and everything in between.

Furthermore, it's been proven wrong that this is something women only experience during the first three months of pregnancy. She is in her fourth month now, and still puking strong. That baby is kicking against her stomach with all its strength.

Which is great, because every time that kid is annoying she can play the 'do you have any idea how much I suffered when I carried you in my womb' card.

Mrs.B and I have an announcement to make:

 Those of you who want to knit baby socks: you have until the 14th of September. Unless he or she decides to pop up two weeks early like his/her big brother.

Wolf said he would like a baby sister. I second that motion, but Mrs.B says she can't make any promisses.