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Baby stats:
Current size: 29 cm
Kicking strength: Medium to hard
Kicking pattern: The baby kicks most in the evenings after I've had a chance to relax and stop moving around. She is also partial to moving around after some loud quacks from Kevin, but I think she's just trying to hide behind my liver in those instances.
Developed this week: Poop! Actually, "meconium", the baby's first stool and the stinkiest element in the periodic table, is beginning to develop. We like to potty!
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Kevin's thoughts:
Who says an unborn baby can't have fun at the beach?
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Can't pass by one of these things without taking a picture. Yeehaw! |
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Just because she's still in mummy's tummy doesn't mean she can take in all the sights, sounds and smells that Brighton has to offer! Okay, you're right, she'll likely to have trouble with sights. And probably the smells too.
But tastes? Tastes she could probably experience, in an umbilical sort of way. Rumour has it that when mummy eats food, the amniotic fluid takes on some of the taste of that food, kind of like tofu!
If that's true, that means while mum and I spent the day soaking up sun, watching the festive homosexuals and not riding the Super Booster, our little girl enjoyed hours of swimming in fish, chips, and mango smoothie!
Did I say watching the festive homosexuals? Perhaps I should explain.
Brighton is the UK's gay capital. Not only that, but this Saturday was the gay capital's Gay Pride festival. That means all the gays from all the towns in all the country converged on the sunny seaside town of Brighton to dress up in revealing and vaguely Egyptian garb and perform uncoordinated dance routines to Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough on the back of a pink-streamered flatbed truck. Ahh, that's what gay pride's all about.
And I'll tell you, there's no better irony than a pregnant woman at a gay pride festival. Except for that 350 pound lesbian with a crew cut and hairy legs sporting a "Sorry boys, I eat bush " t-shirt. I would have taken a photo, but how would I have been able to support my family with two broken arms? Seriously, she frightened me.
The gay pride festival was not the reason for our visit, merely a coincidental sideline. We watched the parade for a while, but soon realised that everyone else was also watching the parade, which meant that nobody was on the beach. There are only so many times one can watch uncoordinated dance routines on pink Egyptian lorries, so we picked a prime spot on the beach and opted to turn pink ourselves (followed soon after by red).
They say (the same 'they' who told me that fact about the amniotic fluid) that anyone who visits Brighton Beach (which is a pebble beach) can't resist throwing a stone. As it turns out, it's absolutely true. Even Baby threw one. Well, kicked anyway. We put a stone on Aimee's tummy, and BOP, off it rolled. And my brother lost hope of having a Beckham in the family when I told him it was a girl.
Threw a Brighton stone, swam in fish-and-chip flavoured fluid, heard every gay anthem that ever reached the charts... that's three out of the five senses. Couldn't have done any better had she been on the outside.
In fact, she probably fared better than Aimee and I did. I'm still peeling.
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Aimee's thoughts:
I am at my most favourite part of the pregnancy so far. This little darling inside of me is making herself very well known to the rest of us, both in the size of my tummy and in the amount she's been kicking me this past week. Two weeks ago, I could feel her moving about, but now she's progressed to solid kicks, very visible to the outside world.
I think having a baby moving around inside of you is the most magical part of pregnancy. Before I got pregnant, I wasn't sure if I would like the feeling, but it's incredible. It's a constant reminder that she's there (as though I could forget that I have a beachball attached to my abdomen) and that she's doing well. It's rare for her to go more than an hour without moving around, and usually that's because I'm not paying attention.
And then there's the games she can play - she's a full participatory member of the Beimers family now! Daddy pokes her, she pokes back. Daddy puts his face up to say hello, she gives him a good kick in the cheek. We had great fun this weekend at Brighton Beach playing with stones. Placed strategically around my tummy, she would nudge them around and make us both laugh.
There are some times where it gets a little weird. I think she's fond of sticking her butt out and wiggling it around (which to me is more accurate of a paternity test than anything a doctor could do), but the feeling is like I have a slow-motion wave machine inside of me that is threatening to reorganise my innards. If anyone is watching this (and Kev never seems to be able to catch this one) they would get seriously freaked out. I keep my hand on my belly on the tube just so that I don't cause some poor innocent commuter man to scream out in fear of alien invasion.
Over the next couple of weeks, we'll try to get a video of the baby playing for you - we've brought home a rock from Brighton Beach so she should know what to do. However, if I happen to capture a wave on video, I'll be forced to send that directly to the X-Files.
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Did you know? |
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There are times when you feel like the world is just a random happenstance of scattered atoms without rhyme or reason. Then you hear about the fundal length, and Darwinism goes right out the window. In case you aren't aware of what a fundal length is (and really, why would you?), it's the length between my pubic bone and the top of my uterus, and it appears to be all part of The Great Plan.
Measuring my fundal length is a quick way of checking that the baby is growing properly. Here's how it works: When I reach week 20, my fundal length is 20cm. At week 21, my fundal length is 21cm. At week 22, my fundal length is 22cm. Bonus question: what's my fundal length this week?
Fascinating, handy and a testament to human perfection. After all, what were the chances that the centimetre, the seven-day solar week, and the fundus would all converge in this manner? Amazing!
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If only I knew then... |
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This week: Granny bras
Shock alert: When pregnant, you can't wear underwired bras. Apparently, underwire cuts off the
production of milk glands in your breasts. Fair enough, but
has anyone ever seen a non-underwired bra that is even remotely attractive and doesn't
make your breasts look like they're from the 1950s? To make a sorry situation worse, your
breasts grow so often that you'll be granny-bra shopping every month. Humiliating AND
costly.
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Aimee's cravings |
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Hummous. I haven't been able to even go near garlic or onions since getting pregnant, and now I suddenly like hummous again.
 I'm also jonesing for a root beer float*, but what with there being no root beer in this country, I'll just have to deal.
*And no, a coke float is NOT the same.
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Everyone into the poll! |
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It's a little bit like having an alien inside your tummy.. and not everyone enjoys it!
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Clothing Colour Poll: Well, well, well. It seems as though we've stumbled upon an interesting subject when we asked if you'd dress your little girl in blue in public. More people responded to this poll than any other and the results were pretty close. Stay tuned for next week's poll where we ask if you'd dress your little boy in pink...
Here's why:
I would dress my girl in blue because...
"i hate the whole pink for girls and blue for boys. I love rainbows - my children will be rainbow warriors and wear rainbows as much as possible - if not purple because it is my favourite colour!"
My girl won't be wearing blue because...
"I have trouble with people thinking that my girl is a boy...why confuse them more?"
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Baby's Book of the Week |
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 The Gigantic Turnip
By Aleksei Tolstoy and Niamh Sharkey
Gorgeous illustrations, but dull as dishwater story about a giant turnip that needs to be pulled out of the ground. Supposedly it's an old Russian tale, but that still doesn't excuse it's dullness. Or perhaps it does.
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