Half way point

When I was training for my marathon, halfway through my runs, a very welcome little voice appeared in my Ipod saying half way point after which the young lady counted down the miles then meters to the end.

Well this is where we're at with Erin's pregnancy. We've had the warm up, muscles are now getting used to the exercise and Erin is in full swing, ready for the tougher more energy sapping part heading to the finish line.

She's now almost 20 weeks in and according to our emails from gurgle.com she's about to get more fluttering sensations, which Erin is talking about getting a little at the moment. These feel a little weird but worse aches and pains are apparently going to begin soon (Oh no, but this really does sound like marathon training).

The baby should now have a cream film over it called vernix. It protects him from becoming waterlogged by the amniotic fluid. Premature babies have this over them when they come out but if our little one arrives at the right time the film will have gone. The arms and legs should be in the correct proportion and he's developing a layer of fat to keep him warm. If he's a girl she is now carrying half her eggs, which will help her, eventually, make Erin a grandma - not too soon though, hopefully.

From now on we are going to shoot a video each week of Erin - reluctantly might I add - walking around to show her state of pregnancy. Some weeks I'll put it up on the blog, others I won't. At the end though, I'll thread it together and we'll have a film of Erin walking through London, different parts of England and bits of Europe, but more importantly through her pregnancy. It's got a working title of Not Quite A Walk In The Park. Here's the first...

A distant chance of naming the baby after a distant relative

Erin's dad, Bud, has just sent us an email with two name ideas for boys.

His family has a distant connection to England in the baby's great-great-grandfather who was called Orville. So he's put this name up for proposal, as well as his last name, Tyler.

Erin's brother's middle name is Tyler so we would have to ask uncle Seth if he wouldn't mind, which incidently, Erin and I have considered.  

As for Orville, who Bud did follow up saying that he should be a pilot or at least design planes. I have my concerns.  British people will know exactly what I mean when I sing - altogether now:

I wish I could fly

right upto the sky

but I can't

You can

I can't

Orville was a ventriloquist's puppet duck from a dubious comic in the 1980s. Actually, here's the song.

Tyler, maybe. But no to Orville for our child, I'm afraid.

But, I ask Bud, what about if she's a girl? 

Junior kick start*

Erin an I were in bed last night chatting about Seth's wedding when she said: 'I think I just felt the baby kick.' With a slight pause, probably to reduce my imminent over-excitement, she followed up with 'but it was probably just wind'.

She said it felt like a tiny little bubbly-air-push in the lower area of her belly. Hopefully it was a kick, maybe it was a little sucker punch. As Erin's going into her 19th week she's dues to feel something. We were only talking earlier, with a hint of worry, that she hadn't felt anything and that the pregnancy magazines and books all mention it could possibly start in week 18.

To get the baby kicking it's apparently a good idea to down a glass of cold water. We were going to do that before Erin felt it independently. I'm glad I forgot to put the water in the fridge.

*Note.  Junior kick Start was a TV favourite of young boys in the early 80s in the UK featuring a motorbike competition with lots of mud during summer holidays.

Boy talk

I work with a lot of women and most of my London male friends, and female friends for that matter, don't have children. So on Saturday night when we went to see a group of our friends, some with young children, I spied that it was my chance to see what men think about pregnancy and impending fatherhood.

I'm not sure I was ready for the conversation we were about to have though.

We were in the garden passing a football around (for those in the US we were kicking a round ball).  After we stopped the sport  - both doing and talking about it, and we'd made sure everyone's jobs were as mundane as everyone else's, I asked what it was like to have a little one around 24/7. 

Railton said it's something you just know you have to get used to, do get used to and end up not being able to live without. Simon agreed.  They both talked about it being the best thing they've ever done. 

They asked if we were going find out the sex of the baby, which we're not. They didn't want to either but Railton and Alison were told at their second scan.  It was because of potential difficulties but they weren't told in a very nice way. Something like you do know it's a boy don't you.

Simon then spoke about, in his words, the worst thing about the whole thing - childbirth. 

But you weren't the one who had to go through it, I thought.  I said, 'Why was this then, mate?'

He then took a deep breath and started. 'When Kirsty's waters broke I called the hospital and told them, they said we should wait for regular contractions. And here's my first bit of advice,' he said and paused, 'Wait as long as you physically think is possible to go to the hospital.  You can be relaxed at home.  When you're at the hospital you just want it over and done with.

'We waited quite a while and eventually went to hospital. Everything was going really well until right at the very end and the little one got stuck. The doctor and midwife were taking their time, being very patient, no one was panicking but I was getting very worried.  They eventually said that they were going to have to operate and that I should get some scrubs on.

'When I was ready I went to the operating theatre but they wouldn't let me in.  This was the worst period of time in my life. Ever. I don't know how long it took but it felt longer than forever. When I got in, all I saw was a huge mess and blood around Kirsty.  The little one was dragged out with a  vacuum extractor - it's pretty much a medical plunger. It was terrifying. When she had been born the next thing I saw was a big middle eastern looking doctor around Kirsty giving her stitches. I shudder at the memory.  

'The midwife and nurses were great and calmed me down by offering me a beef sandwich. Kirsty hardly remembers a thing.

'So I would advise Erin to get any and all the painkillers they are offering.  For all that pain, apart from the baby, there's no other reward.  I wouldn't be a hero.'

He then breathed again.  I don't know if he always tells that story or has been storing it up for a while but it was uttered with high octane energy.

I went in the house a bit later to order some food.  I told Erin she might not want to talk to Kirsty about her childbirth.  She said: 'I know, I've already heard.'

What's in a name?

In our search of names we've scoured lists and books, and our imaginations to think of something perfect for our little boy or girl.  We're still not going to tell you any of our choices, especially after our first lesson in pregnancy - scroll down to the bit about Erin's mum.  But here is a bit of inspiration to our eventually answer.

Top ten baby names in UK in 2007:

1 Jack      

2 Thomas

3 Oliver

4 Joshua

5 Harry

6 Charlie

7 Daniel

8 William

9 James

10 Alfie

1 Grace

2 Ruby

3 Olivia

4 Emily

5 Jessica

6 Sophie

7 Chloe

8 Lily

9 Ella

10 Amilia

Boring. Or our friends and family have snagged them already.

And in the US:

1 Jacob 

2 Michael

3 Joshua

4 Ethan

5 Matthew

6 Daniel

7 Christopher 

8 Andrew

9 Anthony

10 William 

1 Emily

2 Emma

3 Madison

4 Isabella

5 Ava

6 Abigail

7 Olivia

8 Hannah

9 Sophia

10 Samantha

As bad.

If you want to check out when names have been popular, click on this. It's very entertaining. Hours, if not more than a century, of fun, in fact. 

Here's something else from the same author, she also wrote this.  Can you think of any more names that would be great if they weren't words already?  I have a theory - and this is not for the faint of heart - that some STIs and diseases would make great posh English names if they weren't STIs or diseases.  Try shouting Clamydia or Diarrhea in a British home counties accent. It works perfectly.  And they could be shortened to Clammy and Dee, or possibly Rea.

You can also find out the meaning of names to help with inspiration.  

I'm getting carried away, I was just about to write our top ten list of names.  But Erin says no. So I won't.

Made in China

Technically the baby wasn't made in China but like most goods these days it might as well contain the country's kite mark.

For those who don't know, Erin and I met in the middle kingdom and it has had quite an effect on our relationship and friendships.

One of these friendships we hold dear to us is with Joy (Zhang Jun) our Chinese language teacher in Cardiff.  Our lessons would usually turn from getting the correct stroke order of the characters to discussions about life (mainly in English), and since we left we've kept in touch as much as we can.  

When we called Joy to tell her that we're pregnant she said she would think of a Chinese name for the child.

She must have been excited about our news as when she got off the phone she put all her attention into the task.  When we visited her the other weekend she gave us a piece of paper with a few ideas on it.  She put our Chinese names together and came up with... Ai Jie. 

It means love and understanding. Erin's part is the love and mine the understanding.  I actually didn't know my name meant understanding, which doesn't bode well does it?  That said, we love it.  It's also gender neutral.  Pity we can't find a western name.

Erin throws a few out every now and again.  But we still haven't found a solid favourite.  So we might be using the Chinese one for the first few months.  Thank you, Chinese Godmother, Joy.

Buggawhat?

I've been building up a bit of a reputation - mainly between Erin and I - for being able to spot the brand of a pushchair.  It may be sad but I know the difference between a Bugaboo Bee, Cameleon, and Gecko.

Easy.

And why people would go for a Mamas and Papas Joolz,  Skate or Ziko Herbie.

Sometimes I think a Quinny Buzz 3 is a Bugaboo Bee. But more often than not I get it right.

So I apologise to the parents in London who have been stared at while you're rushing through Oxford Street, having lunch in Barkingside or lazing around on a Sunday in Battersea Park.  It was me trying to figure out what makes each brand unique. 

And Erin now stops me when I start banging on about prams and each ones merit if we're in company so I don't bore them half to death. 

But yesterday at our farmer's market breakfast we saw two - one ofter the other - Phil and Ted's Sports Buggies.  This is the first time I'd noticed them.  After this though, everyone seemed to have them, especially if they had two children.  The youngest was usually in the underneath section asleep.

Anyway, when we came back from our afternoon stroll we stopped off to visit Mamas and Papas and Erin joined me in the hunt for the right buggy.  She doesn't like my early frontrunner .  She thinks they are too big.  I did originally think it was a little heavy when I checked it out but still liked the look and feel of it - like many Americans do with SUVs, I suppose.  After she was prammed-out and we were looking at baby clothes we saw a mother pushing her newborn in a Bugaboo Bee. I'd dismissed these as a kind of Porsche of prams - looks good but overpriced. But up close it seemed all the compact-pushy-thing you'd want for urban living, with attachments for off-roading.  So if we spot one on ebay we may well get one.

Which brings me to yesterday evening when we got home. Erin hopped on the internet to see what prams were in cyberspace.  She saw a black Quinny which had hardly been used going for 400 pounds less than in the shops with three minutes to go on the countdown.  It took us a minute to decide if it would be good for us, making sure it could fit a car seat - Maxi Cosi do Quinnys'.  And a carry cot? Yes. So, we decided to go for it.  Unfortunately we entered the wrong Paypal account - you can't use an American one in the UK.  So we missed out but at least we know the strollers, prams and buggies which are on the streets and in the stores can be bought at a reasonable price if you shop around.

And I know I haven't mentioned Silver Cross.  Or Maclaren yet.  There are too many.

And don't get me started on the running ones.

A walk in the park

I attained my weekend blog goal today.  Erin's sister, Robyn, wanted me to take a photo so she can see Erin's pregnancy progress.

One of our friends, Sarah, stayed with us on Friday night and as we caught up on Saturday morning I noticed Erin across the room and saw, for the first time, signs of a spurt in growth of her bump.  My initial thoughts turned to how a little life was actually in there.  It took me a few moments to get back into the conversation Erin and Sarah had ploughed on ahead with.

In the afternoon we went to Hampstead Heath for a little stroll.  After a lovely romantic walk, slightly spoiled by taking the above photos, we found a spot to lie down and started people watching while munching on our picnic, which we'd bought at our local farmer's market. We wondered whether some couples were on a first date, hoped that others weren't; Watched bright young things flinging frisbees, playing badminton and walking their dogs;  and spotted lots of young couples with their babies and toddlers.  We are noticing that there are a lot more of these families out there than before we got pregnant.

Erin took a turn in relaxation by lying down with her head on my belly.  I was immediately struck with a slight pang of jealousy realising that I wouldn't be able to lie with my head on hers for a while. I said this but then had an idea to see if I could check out whether I could hear what was going on inside Erin.  

It was incredible.  I listened hoping I'd catch at least a quelch but then closed my eyes and was taken to another world. 

There was an initial gurgling movement then what seemed to be all sorts of bubbly activity. I was mumbling about my amazement to Erin only for her to giggle - stopping me hearing anything - and ask, 'What's it's first words then? Is it saying Mama or Dada?.'  I was undeterred. The image of the scan came to me, when the UV turned the gel into dramatic awe inspiring life. I was imagining what was going on with the baby, kicking and stretching or moving around to get comfortable as it was wondering why it's little home was being invaded by a head and ear shape.  My mind took me to the vision of life which had been created and was growing, literally underneath me.  

After this I turned to Erin and told her what I'd just experienced.  She wasn't as excited as I was. 'Hold on,' she said, 'turn over and let me do the same to you.'  Sure enough she described the same gurgling and bubbly sounds I'd experienced.  

Imagination is a wonderful thing.  Either that or I could be about to make history.  And I do look a little further gone. 

Picture perfect...or not

Erin's sister, Robyn, has been bugging me to put a recent picture of Erin up.  Here's one from the wedding we were at last week.

Sorry it's got me in it too.  And doesn't show what people want to see from a pregnant woman. I promise to take more of Erin this weekend.

Angry pregnant

Erin and I have just been chatting and she said: 'Hey blog this'.

As always I'm doing as I'm told. But maybe she didn't mean it.

Anyway, she's basically got a gripe as a pregnant woman.  And that gripe is that she's become public property.  People feel that they can say anything, absolutely anything, to her.  They look her up and down and tell her how she looks. Or they tell her she can or can't do things because of her condition (she hates that word). She also hates the fact that her belly has become the focus of conversation.  People forget that she used to be able to chat about all sorts before getting pregnant.  

The 3 main pregnancy cliches you're probably best avoiding when talking to Erin in the next 4.5 months are:

• 'You should(n't) ... In your condition.'  The bit in the middle has ranged from biking to work to bringing a tray of drinks into a room for a meeting.
• 'Oh, are you craving that?'  This is if she asks for anything to eat or drink - and it might be a cup of tea in the middle of the morning - it's automatically assumed she's craving.
• 'Oh, you can eat that now because you're eating for two.'  Technically she's only supposed to eat an extra 300 calories a day. 

Yes,  Erin's a little bit Angry Pregnant today.

Ears and eyebrows

I've been thumbing through  a book we got when we were in the States. It's The Pregnancy Countdown Book by Susan Magee. 

Erin's now 17 weeks pregnant and here's what it says about the baby.

(And just to wind those up who are adamant the child will be a boy it's written as if she's a she.)

Spread your hand open wide.  Study the distance from the top of your thumb to the bottom of your palm.  At 17 weeks of pregnancy, this is the size of the baby - about 5 inches.  She weighs about 6 ounces.  The cartilage of the skeleton is hardening to bone.  Fat is just now forming under her skin.  The bones of her ears and the nerve endings from her brain are now, or will soon be, developed enough for her to hear your voice and heartbeat. So you can start saying 'I love you,' and maybe she'll hear and raise her eyebrows - because she's got those now, too.

From now when we play music the baby will apparently be able to hear. So lots of Mozart then? I doubt it. A few weeks ago I downloaded a load of Mozart for this stage of the pregnancy but have been thinking about it.  Why play classical music when it wouldn't hear it so much in the house when she - I'll go with the book for today's blog - won't be hearing it when she's born?  So what should we purposely play for her to listen to?

Send me your ideas. Most of you will know what she'll hear if I get my way.

So that's what's happening inside Erin at the moment.

On the outside she had her first I've got nothing to wear moment today.  Her clothes are getting tight and she's just about showing - Looking good might I had.  But for her, the use of those maternity trousers and jeans are fast approaching.

Boy or girl - part 2

Erin went on this last night to see whether our baby will be a boy or a girl. She's now, for now anyway, convinced it's going to be a boy.

Oh, and by the way, at the moment we have decided not to find out the sex of the baby until the birth. Erin made the decision in the back of the car as we were driving away from our niece, Sophie's birthday party. Everyone who asks if we're going to find out at the next scan seems to adamantly say 'good' when they hear we won't be - you need a surprise at the end, is their follow up. But when people asked and we thought we were going to find out, they then went on to talk about how we could then design the nursery, which in a one bedrrom flat is difficult, and buy lots of clothes, which we have anyway.

Bullseye

We showed Simon and Sarah what we bought from Target in the States tonight.

These included:

Baby wipes - boring but a lot cheaper over the pond

A portable baby changing mat

Spare changing cover

Butt paste - don't ask

Pus Erin's maternity wear. Please feel sorry for them. - Sarah, at least, looked interested.

And a breast pump.

Simon looked away from the TV for the first time in the evening.  And the response? 'That's bloody brilliant.  That's my favourite thing I've seen all day.'

How much?

Erin's mum went to garage sales for us before we went to the States.  We also went around a few places on the first saturday when we were over there too.  This is what we've brought back. All for £5. (Sorry if I don't get the right term for all of them, I'm only just getting used to all of this.)

5 Hats (1 deer stalker)

1 Green cardigan

1 Pair of Engineer Blue stripey Dungarees.

5 Full length baby suits  

4 Full length sleeping suits 

21 Play suits - 3-6 mths (1 with a caterpillar crawling over it with matching bib - cute)

10 Play Suits - 0-3 mths (1 which says it doesn't come with instructions, not the suit but the baby, which they don't.  Shame)

4 long legged elasticated suits 

2 Long sleeve shirts

1 Short sleeve shirt

1 Camouflage Hoodie (Just for David Cameron)

5 bibs (1 denim designer label, not sure why)

4 socks

4 Bath Towels

6 Blankets

1 Rattle

Most of these look absolutely brand new.  And again, it all cost a fiver.

Happy birthday

We went to our niece, Sophie's, birthday party a week last Saturday.

This is Sophie

This is Sophie with me

And this is Erin and Sophie. 

We took her to the park while the BBQ was being prepared.  After this we needed a lie down.  It was exhausting always keeping watch, and our enthusiasm and spirits high. 

Sophie didn't need a rest, she had more than enough energy to unwrap her presents.

With a little help from her cousins, Xavier and Sebastian.

The party was amazing but it was a baptism of fire for Erin and I (probably more me than Erin) not having been to a two year old's party since, well, when I was about two.  And seeing how natural all the adults seemed to be around the children was incredible. Everyone was on constant watch for what they would do next both in an 'on-guard' and 'in-awe' kind of way.  New words and experiences were popping up all over the place.

The last time we saw Sophie was when she was a timid 18 month old.  Now she's two and at this party she was a little timid around us, but not everyone else.  She knew names, bossed people around and and showed us that she has a growing personality. 

Sophie's in the middle of her two cousins, Sebastian is 3, and Xavier is 1.  It was an eye opener seeing the difference in overall growth and development of a 1, 2 and 3 year old. A year is a very long time in childhood.

Good news travels fast

Yesterday we flew in to Minneapolis airport and as soon as Char, Erin's mum, turned up we were whisked away to see Erin's grandparents.

As usual Grandma Jane had some supper ready for us and was all ears at our foreign adventure stories. When Erin said she wanted to show her some photos she didn't really know what to do with some black and white and not very clear seeming polaroids.  She looked at them, then again, then turned them upside down, looked at them again the right way up and with a little help from Erin's smile realised what they were.  She turned round and automatically gave Erin a huge hug as she asked: 'Are you pregnant?' She knew the answer.

Two minutes later Erin's cousin, Cory, turned up with his wife as did one of her aunts.  It's fair to say that most of Erin's family, and there's a lot of them, will now know, 24 hours later.

Over the pond

We're off to the States for a few weeks.  This will be a time of telling Erin's extended family about our news - only her folks, brothers, sister and their spouses know.

I'm sure there will be lots to report.

It'll be a lot of whooping, hurrahs and people saying...Finally, as Erin's grandparents have 12 great-grandchildren already.    

Life and death - a tribute to eight o clock

On Wednesday and Thursday night we called, sent emails and texts to people to let them know our news.

We talked about the scan, how it's been very difficult to keep the secret, when the due date is, where we're going to live in the future, if the baby will be English and the death of Eight O Clock and her chicken friends.

I'll explain.

Our friends Johnny and Jo and their two adorable children live in Cardiff in a beautiful cottage with everyone's dream garden.  In it is a tree house, adventure climbing frame, a never ending shed, and a chicken coup which houses four hens and three ducks.

Our conversation went something like:

Me: Hi Jo, it's Jason.

Jo: Oh hi Jase how are you?

Me: Very well thanks, you?

Jo: Er, not so great really.

Me: Why not?

Jo: Well, it's a bit superficial really, I'm all right I suppose.

Me:  No, go on. What's wrong?

Jo:  Well, a fox has killed all our animals.

Me:  What?

Jo: Yeah, it must have been last night and our garden just looks like a greek tragedy now.

Silence

Jo: So, no more Eight O Clock.

To explain, You couldn't have made up Eight O Clock.  He was the runt of the litter. A weird looking, bedraggled duck which strangely bossed all the animals around while simultaneously making humans fall in love with him. Nobody even thought, let alone mentioned orange sauce around him. 

Me: How have the kids taken it?

Jo:  Well, the eldest (who's 7) seems to be taking it in his stride and I'm sure will want to talk about it more in the next few days while the youngest(who's 3) keeps walking around shouting duck dead. Chicken dead. Duck dead, without any idea of what she's saying at all.  

She giggled then asked how I was.  I said something like, well from death to er, life.  Erin's expecting and she shrieked with Joy. 

Is this life going full circle?