We’re now into the third trimester, and the ever-growing baby and the start of Mandy’s summer swimming programme are taking their toll on my wife’s energy levels. Mandy teaches until 7.30pm most evenings, so by the time she gets home she’s usually pretty tired. By Saturday afternoon, at the end of her working week, she can be a little cranky too. Fortunately, however, her hormones have so far failed to overcome her easygoing nature, and I’m not (yet) living in fear of doing or saying the wrong thing!
Because of her fatigue and teaching schedule, however, shopping for groceries and cooking dinner have now become my responsibilities. I don’t mind that, and if they remain my job after the baby is born, that will be fine too. Just as long as I don’t have to clean the bathroom any more. Thanks to the noxious chemicals involved, that’s a job that I was forced to assume near the start of Mandy’s pregnancy. However, gassing myself with Scrubbing Bubbles, then scouring the dirt from the tub, is not something that my impatient nature either enjoys or is particularly good at.
As her belly continues to grow, Mandy has started to have trouble bending over. It probably won’t be long before she needs help getting up from the couch too. Despite this, however, she’s still enjoying being pregnant, and sometimes sounds disappointed that it will soon be over.
I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I’ll be glad when her figure returns to normal. Veins have begun to appear in places where I would prefer they remain invisible, and the belly has long since grown beyond an attractive bump (but I still love you, babe!). However, I’ve also spent much of the last couple of weeks worrying about whether I’ll still be able to do the things I currently enjoy after the baby is born, or whether life will become all work and no play.
Happily, some of my fears were assuaged last week, when we had dinner with two couples who are also new parents. The first, parents of a three month-old girl, told us that their baby was now going down to sleep at 6.30pm, waking four hours later for a feed, then sleeping through until 6.30am. The second, parents of a fourteen month-old boy, told us that he now goes to bed at 7pm and doesn’t wake until 6am. The knowledge that we should still have some time to ourselves in the evenings was very reassuring.
The baby’s movements have increased significantly in the last few weeks. It’s now possible to feel hard spots on Mandy’s belly, presumably the baby’s head or bum, and when he shifts position her whole belly undulates. Feeling the baby moving around inside my wife still makes me feel squeamish though, and Mandy usually has to forcibly grab my hand and put it on her if she wants me to feel his acrobatics. We’ve still not been able to see an impression of a hand or foot through her skin yet, however.
We’ve now settled on a boy’s name (which was the name we first thought of) but are having some difficulty agreeing on one for a girl. The problem is that most of the girl’s names we favour start with a ‘C’, ‘K’ or ‘S’, but with a middle name of ‘Oatley’ (decided long ago and now immutable) and a surname of ‘Wells’, that results in some unfortunate initials. Mandy isn’t bothered by this, however I’m mindful of the playground teasing that’s likely to result. One way out would be for us to give our daughter another middle name, to go before Oatley, but we’re still undecided.
The pile of alien artefacts in the baby’s room continues to grow, courtesy of my mother-in-law. New additions this week: a diaper genie (with refills), more bottles, a microwave bottle steriliser, a mattress pad, crib sheets, and a baby bathtub and shower. Hopefully we’ll still have room for the baby when he arrives.
