“You know those elegant, graceful women on the front of pregnancy magazines?” I say, red-faced and straining as I heave my aching wife off the sofa. “You’re not one of them, are you!”
Jess’ SPD is really playing up, to the point where her back is excruciatingly painful most of the time; so far, only a warm shower can ease the pain. I swear her pelvic joints must be so loose that one day soon the baby will just fall out and hover just above the ground in some kind of Mission: Impossible style pose, umbilical cord pulled tight.
If you haven’t already thought about names, now’s a good time to start. I’m speaking from experience when I say that it can take a long time for both of you to agree on a name. And by agree, I mean you protest in progressively feeble tones as your mrs grinds you down with her favourite name. Stand your ground! If she does win, I suggest that you go on your own to register the name after it’s born. Then you can either change the name to your favourite, or give it a really funny middle name which will only be revealed on his wedding day.