The Baby Diaries

Thom: Kiki, isn’t that amazing!

Me: OK.

Clare: I’m just going to take some measurements now, to check everything’s on schedule and growing as it should.

She worked in silence for a while, moving the wand around and marking points on the scan.

Clare: Mmm. [concerned] Mmmm.

Me: What what is it what’s wrong?

Clare: I’m just … is it?

Me: What can you see?

Clare: No, I … No, I think it’s fine. I just watched Alien for the first time the other night, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Just checking your baby has all its limbs and no tentacles. Hang on, is that …?

Me: WHAT?

Clare: [cheerful] No, nothing. Have you seen that film?

Me: [wide eyes at Thom] Yes.

Thom: No.

Clare: [to Thom] Don’t. Not for at least … a year, I’d say. OK, we’re all done here! Everything looks fine. I’d say you’re just over fourteen weeks at the moment, which makes your due date the 21st May, and your baby’s growing well so we don’t need any further scans at the moment. We’ll see you in six weeks for your twenty-week scan, then. I’ve sent your pictures to reception to collect.

We stumbled out of the room to get our pictures.

Thom: She was amazing. And now I’m curious: I really need to see Alien.

Me: You really, really don’t. And she really, really wasn’t.

We agreed to disagree, but I shall have to keep an eye on Thom. I suppose I’ll know if he’s watched it on the sly as he’ll suddenly come nowhere near my stomach.

It was so strange to see the baby really there. It sucked its thumb and rolled around, and I really believed for the first time that we were going to be parents.

TO DO:

Find out what babies do, and need, etc.

Ask Suse?

November 26th

Today was the day we’d agreed to break the news to our families. As with our engagement, we – by which I mean Thom – told his parents in Australia over the phone, just prior to telling my family over here. Aileen and Alan were delighted, shrieking down the phone and checking over and over that I was looking after myself, that Thom was looking after me and the baby, that we were happy, that we were well. It was so nice to talk to them and so nice to hear how glad the news had made them, but I also felt exhausted by it, and nervous about having to do it all over again with my family actually in front of us, where I’d be unable to draw my finger across my throat as a signal for Thom to draw the conversation to a close when it all got too overwhelming. My hands were shaking so much as we left our house that Thom had to do my coat up for me, saying, ‘It’s all practice for when you can’t do this yourself in a few months,’ to which I sighed, ‘I’m only going to have a bigger stomach, I’m not having my hands cut off.’ Thom tugged an imaginary forelock at me, and we headed over to Susie’s.

When we got there, I’d barely got my shaky finger onto the doorbell when the door opened to reveal Susie, husband Pete and all the kids in the hallway, all wrapped up in coats and scarves. I asked them whether their heating had broken again, but Susie told me that Dad’s birthday lunch was now at Mum and Dad’s house rather than theirs; she didn’t think I’d mind if we moved venues. ‘Come on, Sour Puss. I didn’t have to buy any supplies. Free food!’ ‘Is it, Suse? Is it?’ I said, but we were flurried out with their family. Thom and Pete took the twins Lily and Edward between them, walking in a wide line together, and Susie gave me Frida to carry.

Susie: So what’s new with you?

Me: Nothing! Why do you say that?

Susie: Jesus Christ, you’re pregnant.

Me: [wailing] How does everyone do that?

Susie: OH MY GOD I WAS ONLY JOKING. [doubles over laughing] Oh my GOD. I literally could not be more pleased with myself right now.

Me: Susie, you absolutely cannot tell Mum and Dad.

Susie: [wide-eyed, serious face] Oooh yeah, they’ll totally ground you and you’ll never get to go to the end of term party.

Me: Susie, please.

Susie: Alright. Do you want me to do it?

Me: Tell them you’re pregnant? I don’t know how long that story will hold. In about six months’ time my hospitalisation with Swollen Stomach is going to seem reeeeeally suspicious.

Susie: That wasn’t what I meant, but actually …

Me: We’ll all pretend we’re pregnant! Like Spartacus!

Susie: You’re hormone-addled.

Me: And you have to stop saying that stuff.

Susie: Alright, spoilsport. But I think you should know …

Me: God, what?

Susie: Mum’s actually really good at all this stuff. Looking after us in pregnancy. If she’s anything like how she was with me; she was brilliant. Asking all the right things. Providing great food. I think you’re going to see a new side to our mother.

Me: Hang on – Mum, who can barely remember our names at the best of times? Mum, who never quite manages to listen to what we’re saying when we’re in front of her? Mum, who reacted to news of your pregnancy with ‘Is it definitely yours?’?

Susie: Mum who single-handedly catered and decorated your wedding? Trust me. She’s good at this. She always preferred us when we were in utero, so she gets really excited about pregnancies.

Me: I’ll believe it when I see it.

We settled on Susie and Thom tossing for it. When we got to Mum and Dad’s, we took a coin from the pot in the hallway and all three of us squeezed into the downstairs toilet.

Susie: Call it.

Thom: Heads.

Me: No, tails.

Susie: Which one?