After this was taken we went to pick something up from friends. If you saw two people struggling on to buses with a moses basket and a white wooden stand then that was us.
Showing posts with label 36 weeks pregnant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 36 weeks pregnant. Show all posts
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Nesting?
When I have a day off I find time to waste on the internet, read books I never finish or listen to mid '90s indy rock B-sides.
Erin had her first day of maternity leave this week and tidied and cleaned the flat. I mistook this for nesting but she reminded me that this is what she does when she's off. She does. I don't. I was reminded of that too.
Amid this, she packed her hospital bag and the baby bag. Erin and I ran though the final things to put in them this morning. I now know what's in and what's not. What's needed and what's not. This is unlike last weekend when Erin said she felt funny, thinking the time had come, and I went into a complete psychotic-fumbly-panic, worrying what on earth we had to get ready. Now I know. I can't promise I won't fumble when the time comes but it will be less psychotic.
The baby's bag has the cutest things in it, boys' blue and girls' pink tops - we honestly don't know the gender, unlike some people think - and simply the cuddliest all-in-one white winter snow suit to come home in.
I think we're getting ready.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Transition
'What's it called when women go a bit mad during labour?' said the husband of one of Erin's workmate's to his wife at Erin's leaving do last night.
I much prefer talking to men about labour than women. The most women give is, 'you'll never know the pain unless you go through it yourself.' But most men don't have the filter in their brain to stop themsleves.
'Transition, that's what it's called,' his wife answered, having answered this question a few hundred times before.
'Yeah, transition, that's it. Wow, it's awful. You'll get called everything under there sun, they have no idea what they are saying,' he said looking at his wife for confirmation.
He got it and carried on, 'They tell you they don't love, never loved you, hate you, that you'll never go near them again and you shouldn't have been near them in the first place. There is anger and venom in their voice. They lose it.'
He let go of the emotions which he certainly couldn't during this tirade in labour and ended 'But when it's all over they have more love for you and the baby than you will ever know'.
Later we snook into his son's bedroom. Erin and his wife didn't know what we were doing and thought he was showing his son off. What he was actually doing was letting me feel the temperature of the bedroom. Showing that children need the room cooler than we do. 18 degrees to be precise.
I much prefer talking to men about labour than women. The most women give is, 'you'll never know the pain unless you go through it yourself.' But most men don't have the filter in their brain to stop themsleves.
'Transition, that's what it's called,' his wife answered, having answered this question a few hundred times before.
'Yeah, transition, that's it. Wow, it's awful. You'll get called everything under there sun, they have no idea what they are saying,' he said looking at his wife for confirmation.
He got it and carried on, 'They tell you they don't love, never loved you, hate you, that you'll never go near them again and you shouldn't have been near them in the first place. There is anger and venom in their voice. They lose it.'
He let go of the emotions which he certainly couldn't during this tirade in labour and ended 'But when it's all over they have more love for you and the baby than you will ever know'.
Later we snook into his son's bedroom. Erin and his wife didn't know what we were doing and thought he was showing his son off. What he was actually doing was letting me feel the temperature of the bedroom. Showing that children need the room cooler than we do. 18 degrees to be precise.
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