A return to normality?

This being week 12, we're both really looking forward to being able to tell people. Finally.

We've got to wait until this Friday - the official end of the first trimester - and then we can go nuts: friends, colleagues and of course HR departments.

Although Mum & Dad have asked that we put in calls to Grannie and Granama (the family matriarchs should be the first to know). And then we plan on letting the news filter organically through to our numerous aunts and uncles.

Truth be told, if the Grannies-to-be have anything to do with it (and let's be honest...) then most of Lancashire and Yorkshire will have found out by teatime on Friday.

I'm sure there's some official announcement in the offing too. But we might get away with just the one broadsheet this time around, rather than The Times and The Telegraph, which our engagement ended up in.

"I'll always remember this moment"

We told our brothers (Olly and Richie) over the weekend.

(I managed to fluff my planned 'Hello, is that Uncle Olly?' line).

His excitable reaction was hilarious and very sweet:

"It's like people always who remember where they were when JFK was shot - I'll always remember this moment".

Really surprising, given he's never been one for over-exaggeration.

The pram (2)

It's looking pretty grotty.

And it's somewhat impractical.

Oh, and it mustn't leave Heatherfield.

But it'll be pretty cool if Grannie-to-be Roskill does ever get around to restoring it:

Silver Cross are still in the pram-making business, but sadly this model seems not have survived the passage of time.

And just in case you were worried about there not being enough junk kicking about at Heatherfield, we also dug this number out from an even damper shed than the one we found the above in:

Bugaboo eat your heart out.

Looking for a bump

I can't see one.

The first scan

An unexpected bonus from our very first trip to the antenatal clinic - our very first scan:

A mixed batch of responses:

Kate: "A bean with nubby limbs."

Phil: "You need to start feeding it fish and chips."

Matt: "How many are in there?"

"You've just earnt the 'b' of 'birthing partner'"

We had a delicious meal out with Aunt Jane and Uncle Dave last night at the York & Albany.

As we were celebrating Dave's 65th birthday, there was champagne at their house first and then a couple of bottles of wine with dinner.

I was drinking my wine very quickly and would then surreptitiously swap my almost empty glass for Kate's much fuller one, so that everyone would think she was drinking normally.

So surreptitiously, as it turned out, that even Kate didn't notice. It was only in the taxi on the way back home that I told her, lolling from side to side.

And very happily she exclaimed "You've just earnt the 'b' of 'birthing partner'".

I didn't realise that I had to earn my title, and certainly not letter by letter. But it now transpires that I'm not going to be awarded the 'i' until I start proactively applying Dr. Hauschka's body oil to the future bump zone in a bid to avert the onset of stetch marks.

I'm starting to feel like some of the fun of this pregnancy malarkey is being chipped away at.

Week 9

According to the BBC's pregnancy calendar (which Kate lives by), the heart(s) started beating last week and the foetus(es) is / are now almost 3 cm long.

Moreover, Kate may now notice "a slight thickening of [her] waistline":

http://www.bbc.co.uk/parenting/pregnancy_calendar/week.shtml?9

Interestingly, to date I've found that I've been experiencing pregnancy sympathy symptoms. Tiredness mostly (which could well be work related) but I have found that I too am getting a little porkier. I'm convinced this has something to do with the pregnancy and is not at all linked to lack of regular exercise.

It's nice that we're going through this together.

Parental advice

This weekend has brought not just the 'barbecue summer' we've all been promised (well, Saturday was quite hot) but also the first visit of my outlaws since we found out Kate was pregnant.

Around the breakfast table yesterday we ended up talking about the need for a birth plan, prompted by all the documents we've had through from St. Mary's.

"Birth plan?!", my father-in-law snorted derisorily.

"Go to hospital. Give birth."

Oh, for a title

According to the paperwork that Kate got through last week from St. Mary's, I am her official 'birthing partner'. It's nice to have a clearly defined role in this process, and one with a title at that. It's also important that everyone knows who I am and what I'm there to do. I wonder if they'll give me a badge.

But perhaps the most interesting section of the 'Caring for you and your baby' booklet was the 'What to bring to hospital' section. Amongst the (long) list of usual suspects - large t-shirts, dressing gown, nappies - was 'refreshments for your partner'.

I would have thought Kate would have an awful lot more to worry about that whether or not I'm thirsty, so it was good of them to remind her about me. As birthing partner, it's important that I'm in peak physical condition in order to be focussed on the task at hand.

First-time fathers

Interesting article in Saturday's Guardian about 'First-time fathers':

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/aug/01/first-time-fathers

One new dad who'd had twins described it as "a bit like winning the lottery".

And another said the birth was definitely "worse for the dad".

I happen to be married to someone who would vehemently disgaree on both accounts.