There's a heartbeat

Every week we read together the various guides' descriptions of what week x holds in store for us. The week 27 description said we should be able to hear the heartbeat with a stethoscope. I decided, sod that – I'll try the ear-to-belly approach.

Success! I think I got lucky. The wee one must have been back-to-belly or something. It was the fast-beating heart I was used to hearing from the sonograms without the mechanical sounding enhancements. It sounded like a very fast beating – just like listening to a heart in a chest, only quieter and faster.

I did check that the sound was localised. I couldn't hear it elsewhere, which means it's more likely a heartbeat than a regularly-gurgling digestive tract. It really was quite exciting. It's like feeling the first kick. It's just one of those milestones that reminds you that, yes, she is pregnant and, yes, a baby is coming.

We do still occasionally get shocked by remembering that we're having a baby. And I realised today it's not likely to stop anytime soon. The wife pointed out today that in ten years we'll still probably be shocked that we have a ten-year-old. At least, for now, it's a pleasant shock, like remembering you have an unopened pint of icecream in the fridge on a hot day.

Breastworks

I didn’t even know a pregnant woman could get mastitis. Turns out anyone can at any time, male or female. The wife came down with it a few days back. Just a small lumpy red spot on a breast. All the details sounded like mastitis (which a new-mum friend of ours has right now, so I'm a bit up to date on the symptoms), but I thought, no way – you can only get that when lactating.

We looked it up in the Pregnancy Bible. The photo and description matched, but I was still dubious til the wife came home from the GP saying Yup. Mastitis. 5 to 7 days of stinky penicillin will be my friend. (Or something to that effect, she doesn't really talk like that). And that's when she explained that anyone can get it, or, more specifically, I could get it, it's just most common in lactating women.

So the antibiotics seem to be having an effect. And since she noticed it very early, there's been very little pain and discomfort. It's better to have it now than after the kid is born, since her breasts are only in casual daily use, rather than hard-core dietary use. But I do worry that this just means she's prone to more mastitis later.

But, it turns out, that is part of my job – to worry about absolutely everything that can go wrong so she does not have to. We both have our burdens – she has to grow and stretch and keep her armoured uterus safe. I have to imagine everything nasty that can happen. Let me tell you, it's not the funnest job, and if it weren't for the little one's reassuring kicks, it could get depressing. It has its plus sides, since I occasionally do know what to look for, like with the mastitis, when she gets it. I hope this prepares me sufficiently for the actual birth. Or perhaps I'll just be terrified of all the unlikely things I know which can go wrong, like I was the first time she had surgery. We'll just have to see.

The effect of music.

We went to a festival recently with lots of people we don't see very often. For most of them, this is the first time they've seen us since finding out. For others, this is where they found out. The wife wore tight clothes to especially show off her state.

The best reaction was one person, who, once she realised, stood there, mouth open, pointing and saying Aaaaaaaaaaa!

Most people secretly wondered, but did not ask until we (or someone else) broached the issue. All of them had a story about a time they'd gotten it wrong and are now very reluctant to ask.

We went out to one club night. The music was good, but it might have been too loud. The little one started squirming quite a lot, so we decided to go home. No idea if the music was annoying, uncomfortable, or if the wee one was actually really enjoying it. I can live with a bit of short term resentment on the off chance it was actually enjoying it and dancing – I'm sure foetal grudges aren't too long.

We looked up the effects of loud music online afterwards and came to the conclusion that no one has the slightest idea. Great. There goes the ability to have guilt-free fun on nights out for the next few months. Then again there was little complaining from the little one during the actual gigs we saw – only the club night.

I've decided to make an in utero playlist of music to play up until birth. The genres range from classical to current pop. No children's music. We can play loads of that after the birth. This is all interesting sounding music, that, at best will give the wee one something to listen to and stimulate all those forming neurons. At worst, I’m hoping it'll install an a priori liking for music we like.

I'm still editing and trimming the list down to remove all the really fast music. I don't want it to come out a hyper little bunny.

Another discovery: before, conversation would orbit around baby and baby things. Now conversation pulls over a chair squarely into the middle of baby, sits down and makes itself comfortable, pausing only to fetch a footstool so it can go the long haul. I don't mind talking about the pregnancy, the forthcoming child, or anything of that sort. In fact I rather enjoy it. I've learned that parents seem to love gushing about their offspring, and I'm not an exception (though, to be honest, there's nothing to actually gush about yet, unless you consider the ability to wriggle gushworthy). All that said, I do like talking about other things. I am still me after all.

Another whinge on the war against children

Starting Wednesday the Tories are decimating the childcare voucher benefit. Today it is £243 per month a parent can get tax free. Come Wed it will be £124 a month. Anyone already part of a work childcare voucher scheme can get the £243 rate for as long as they have children under 16. Anyone with their first child born on 6 April 2011 or later will be stuck with the lower rate forever.

I'm not quite sure I would go as far as to call this grossly unfair, I would say that it's annoying as hell. Yet another benefit that disappears from under me while my forthcoming child gestates. I can imagine, years later saying While you were in the womb, the Tories deprived you of literally thousands of pounds of benefits, all the while raising the cost of education thousands of pounds. And all this occurred in between when you were conceived and when you were born. It seems like Tories only want people to get off to a good start if it's inherited.

The timing of all this is amazing. They could at least have a 9 month delay so that people who were intentionally breeding would at least get a chance to know what they were getting into. Anyone who actually bothered to sit down and do the maths and found that, yes, they can afford to have a child is now thoroughly screwed.

Now I am sick

I've come down with a cold. Well, I've had this lingering cold for a week now, but it's blossomed into a really sodding annoying sore throat. It's always the way – the moment you have a moment to relax is when the cold gets it clutches on you.

Really, I've no one but myself to blame. I spent several hours amongst smokers in a beer garden. Since the smoking ban I seem to have forgotten that being around smokers when you already have a sore throat is asking for trouble. It now feels like it's been attacked with knives. I had to suck on one of those numbing lozenges just to be able to sleep through the night.

I am, of course, now paranoid of going anywhere near the wife. Even though I'm pretty sure she got the cold first and passed it on to me.

Also, somehow, my paranoia not going anywhere near the wife doesn't mean I don't spend as much time as possible with my hand on her belly. The wee one is moving quite frequently now, and, if you look closely, you can see her belly jump and twitch — which is really neat. Feeling the movement is comforting, and helps keep my mind of the knives of soreness in my throat. I've read that the foetus is also comforted by the father's warm hands. So lots of win all around, I hope.

In other news, her navel is disappearing. It's now the size and shallowness of a ½ teaspoon. You can clearly see the bottom and reddish-pink scar along running horizontally across it. Strange that such a reminder of one's on birth should only come just before giving birth oneself.