beckity

'This one's a nice colour' I say, holding it out for mum to see. 'I'll ask if we can buy packs or we have to get them individually.' There's a queue at the cash desk, but the man in front lets me go first. I smile gratefully and ask my question. The lady says packs are available and goes off to the storeroom to find them. When she returns she has half the quantity I asked for, 'but I can order some more right away'. Seeing my face drop, she adds 'well, it's not like you're going to give birth tomorrow right?' 'Actually, she was due two days ago' I admit. She pulled a drawer open and finds the rest of the birth announcement cards I'm after. 'Perfect' I thank her. I hope I do give birth tomorrow.

We walk in and I'm happy to see there are empty tables between those occupied by Sunday evening drinkers, keen to put off the beginning of the new week as long as possible. Last time we were here we couldn't get a seat. We take our places towards the middle of the room and I try to ignore the stares. All too soon, they will be gone, my stomach deflated, novelty value worn off, or so I hope. The beer comes for him; warm milk for me, with a chocolate and indulgent smile from the waitress. We talk about the coming days, weeks, years... speculate, laugh, admit our ignorance. When it's time to leave, the waitress acknowledges the tip and asks when the baby is due. 'Er, yesterday actually' I smile, and her eyes widen as the girl on the table next to me gasps. She takes a step back to let me pass and I can't help feel it's also to move her into the safety zone, away from the potential explosion that could result from this dangerous character in her bar. ...

The timing of my maternity leave seems all wrong. It is misplaced, out of synch with the rest of this city's schedule, where roads have filled up again and shops are stocked to the ceiling with school supplies. As kids pass through the streets, with loaded backpacks of fresh notebooks and shiny new pencil cases, I plod on. Pulling my cardigan as far around my bump as it will go to protect us against the autumnal wind, I slow down as everyone else gets back into their routine. My diary thins out as others are filled with meeting times and appointments; my legs carry me increasingly slowly, as others, tanned from summer sun, speed up, jogging to be on time; my thoughts turn to new challenges, the storm that will follow this calm, just as others are plunging into new lessons or next year's priorities. They have all started, launched themselves head-first into their new cycle. We are still waiting. Waiting to be launched into a new world we can't even imagine but that wil...

They all said it; the doctor, friends who have gone through the process, books, everyone. Enjoy the middle of pregnancy because as it gets towards the end, time drags. You are bigger, heavier, time slows down as you do and you get frustrated waiting for the birth itself. You are impatient to meet your baby, bored of your increasingly small and bland wardrobe, and tired of lugging the extra kilos around not to mention dealing with all the little inconveniences of late pregnancy. Well, they lied. Sure, I'm excited that next month we should be meeting a new little creature that we brought into existence. Sure, my back aches and peeing every two hours is not on my list of fun ways to pass the time, but hell! I am still being thrust towards this life-changing event at a speed that makes me clutch my bump to me and hold out a hand to steady me with. This is not slowed down time, this is normal life speed that has me looking around with a dazed expression thinking 'what? 35 weeks? A...

I eyed the packed bus warily, and joined the queue to get on. The heat was unrelenting and I felt a trickle of sweat down my back as I stepped onto the bus. The card reader beeped me through and I greeted the bus driver. 'Do you want to sit down Madame?' he asked, and I laughed as I looked at the crowd in front of me. 'I'd love to, but...' He got to his feet and turned his head to face down the bus. 'OK, who else can give us their sit for Madame, who is pregnant?' People shifted in their seats and avoided eye contact, unwilling to join the hovering mass. I felt my face, already red from the sun, blush deeply and as a man towards the middle of the bus stood up and nodded at me, I pushed gently through the people, gratefully sinking into the sit provided for me. --- As I adjusted my skirt, a van blasting music approached from behind. A whistle and shout from the front seat drew an exasperated sigh from me, and I turned my head as the van drew parallel. The...

Every so often I am woken by a thud in the bed next to me as M launches himself into the air, spins a neat 180 degrees and lands on his other side, sleeping all the while. Most people roll over, my husband flies. From the belly shudders and pokes that are growing in intensity every day, I'm guessing that our daughter is already perfecting the art of the mid-air rollover. Earlier this week a work seminar was brightened quite considerably by a small lump bulging out of the bump twice in quick succession. It's getting cosy in there and Baby J is stretching her limbs, making her presence felt even before we see her face or choose her name. 25 weeks gone.

I hoisted up my dress and the doctor tucked the paper towel into my underwear before squirting a thick layer of gel onto my protruding belly. The nurse operating the scanning equipment smiled at me and placed the transducer (yes, I looked that up) in the middle of the gel. As the picture came up on the screen in front of me, I caught M's eye and we smiled as our baby moved about, the nurse showing us the whole body, from top to toe. As the doctor did his job, counting fingers and measuring heartbeats and internal organs, we marvelled at the technology. The changing colours highlighting structures, the speakers letting us hear the heartbeat, the clarity of the images of our little bean; a real little baby in there. I felt a movement and saw it reflected in the image. The baby yawned, a small hand hovering by the head as the mouth widened and then settled back. Incredible. Our baby bean is a girl. We're going to have a daughter.