Jess is sat on the settee watching TV, and I’m beavering away on the computer, just waiting for the moment when I am asked to haul her to her feet so she can clump upstairs and have yet another soothing bath. Her grunts of pain as she rises from the seat have now morphed into some kind of strange breathy monkey noises; imagine Rolf Harris doing some of his weird aboriginal singing, and you get the picture. To her credit, she hasn’t let pregnancy hold her back at all, and she still works really hard for the family – which is why she often gets tired really quickly.
Fortunately, she doesn't LOOK like Rolf.
She has also had to resort to wearing her glasses, which she normally doesn’t need as her eyesight isn’t that bad. Me, I have terrible eyesight – so bad that I literally wouldn’t be able to read the top letter of that illuminated sign they have at the opticians, even though I know for a fact that it is an A. It turns out that pregnancy can affect eyesight, as the same build-up of fluid that gives her unsightly cankles can affect her vision, and her hormones can also increase the thickness of the cornea on her eyeballs, blurring her sight. Fortunately, this will revert back to normal over time, and so Jess doesn’t need to worry about any wrinkles caused by excessive squinting. Hopefully the cankles will make a swift exit as well…
The estimated birth date is approaching quickly, even though it feels like the pregnancy is dragging. We’ve not even begun to decorate the nursery yet; it’s still full of old junk, like reams of books left over from the house move and a box full of tools that I don’t know how to use. Now and again we’ll both get really nervous of the impending labour, although I don’t know why I’m that anxious, as I won’t be the one pooping all over the carpet. I try to reassure her that everything will be OK by saying things like “there are some people who have like six babies, labour can’t be that bad” – but it rarely has any effect other than prompting a steely glare.
Now THAT is a handful.
Right about now, your baby – whose eyes have been closed thus far – will open them and begin to blink, revealing blue or brown eyes (depending on your ethnicity), although the colour may change after birth. What it’ll make of its accommodation is anyone’s guess, but I can imagine what’d be going through my mind if I was balled up in a sphere of flesh and goo. There would be one strongly worded letter to management being sent that day.
"...and the walls were FILTHY!!"
He or she weighs around 2 pounds and measures just over 9 inches, which means it’ll certainly be able to make itself known as it boots your mrs’ insides. Although it will have been used to noises for weeks now, such as your partner’s heartbeat or the sounds of her digestive system, she may find that it jumps on loud noises. It can also tell if it is light or dark outside – the walls of the uterus are so stretched that some light can get through.
Oh, and by the way, it’s happened. Her belly button is now most definitely an outie and seems to be pointing at me no matter where I’m standing in the room, like a gross little finger or Mona Lisa’s eyes. Despite this, I can’t seem to stop pressing it like a button, although I’m not sure what I’m expecting to happen.
Oops...
You know, I think I’d love it if my kids looked just like Rolf. He is such a cool dude!