Thursday, May 10, 2007
I haven’t been blogging much lately, because our life got into a higher gear. The baby is getting impatient, although it’s still five more weeks before he is supposed to be released. And we’re giving no parole.
Last Friday, Mrs. Bart felt cramps in her lower abdomen. It got serious to the point that she called her gynaecologist, who told her to come to the hospital right away. After a thorough examination it became clear that she and the baby were alright. But she is a bit too stressed with her work and all, and if she doesn’t take it a bit calmer the little one might pop out a bit too soon. It was a bit of a stressful evening, which I skilfully coordinated from the pub. It was my last day at my former office and we had a drink with the whole team. That’s the kind of father I am, putting booze before the welfare of my children.
But I saw the error of my ways and now I’m trying to help my wobbly wife as much as possible. It’s not easy making her rest, I practically have to tie her to the sofa. But her body is sending her messages – labelled ‘urgent’ – that she should take it easy. Her back simply refuses to carry all that extra weight around all day long and has taken the drastic measure to try to kill her. Meanwhile her bloating belly is preventing her to sleep well, which means my night rest is also disturbed.
On Tuesday we visited the baby doctor again, this time for regular maintenance. He assured us everything was fine, but he did look surprised again when he calculated the weight of the baby. It’s about 600 grams heavier than the average and bends the scale’s needle to a hefty 3 kilograms. At this rate, it will weigh 10 kg when it gets out, and know how to ride a bike, and have its own apartment.