Baby's age: -140 days

I’ve just experienced my first unsolicited belly-touching, by a colleague whose pregnancy advice was to drink lots of juice and laugh more. This walking up to me and feeling my bump to see if it moves – is that going to happen a lot? It’s still so gentle that even Pete has only felt it kick once.

I understand people taking an interest in the pregnancy, but I’m not sure that should extend to unsolicited – unauthorised, even – physical contact. And I’m not brave enough to respond by touching the feeler’s belly in return. I wouldn’t be so rude!

Baby's age: -142 days

An article in today’s Observer discusses the increasing public opinion that the time limit on abortion should be reduced. In their own survey, they found that 47 per cent of women believe the legal limit for an abortion should be cut from its present 24 weeks, and another 10 per cent want the practice outlawed altogether.

As I write, I can feel my 19-week fetus fluttering around inside me. These tiny movements are so real, so human, so much potential. This unimaginable creature has already taken over our lives, and turned us from a couple into a family.

This baby was planned and longed for, and that makes me very lucky, because I don’t have to make that decision. In other circumstances, I would and could and have made it, albeit long before any scans or movements gave the tiny clump of cells any tangible reality. To abort in the first trimester is relatively easy, both in terms of logistics, and emotionally. I don’t deny that it leaves a deep impression, but I cannot begin to imagine the anguish of making that decision after months of carrying a child.

I’m not talking about someone dithering until 20 weeks, or suddenly changing their mind; there are still people who do not know they are pregnant until the second trimester; some women continue to have periods throughout, and some are too ignorant or too frightened or even deep in denial, and it simply doesn’t hit them until it’s nearly too late. And if they really are that ignorant or frightened or unable to face reality, there’s a strong chance that their world is not a good one to bring a baby into.

But the really painful decision is reserved for the parents who want the baby, and find out that there is some abnormality such as Downs Syndrome that makes it impracticable for them to continue the pregnancy. The AFP test, which indicates a likelihood of chromosomal abnormality, is only possible at around 18 weeks. If this gives a positive result, then you are advised to have an amniocentesis. It takes two to three weeks to get the results of amniocentesis. This puts us at 22 weeks, which is the upper limit now proposed by David Cameron. Doesn’t give you much time to make that ultimately difficult decision, does it?

I’m not sure I even dare to imagine carrying a baby for five months and then having to give it up. Especially if you are in the Older Mother bracket, and running out of time. But if you feel strongly that you don’t want to be the parent of a handicapped child, then being forced to go ahead with a pregnancy that you no longer want must be much, much worse.

A baby born at 23 weeks has only a 17% chance of survival, yet pictures of a 23-week fetus are being used to persuade politicians that this is a person with a right to life. But that right to life should surely include a right to be loved, wanted, cared for by someone who is emotionally and financially able to do so, and not have an 83% chance of dying after a few weeks in an incubator?

I am not among the 47% of women who think that the time limit should be reduced; what I do want is more support to be given to the women who do have to make this decision at such a painfully late stage, and to those who do not face the reality of their pregnancy until they reach the line.

I’m making a rhubarb crumble. As I don’t have a sweet tooth, I’ve never really got much good at cooking puddings, but any fool can make a crumble. In fact, it’s so boringly easy that I usually have to make it more exciting by adding all sorts of interesting things that I find lying around the kitchen. Suitable things, obviously; I don’t mean bits of soap and breadcrumbs, although there is quite a lot of that sort of stuff lying around the kitchen.

I bought the rhubarb because the veg man didn’t have any aubergines. I have this vague idea that we need to eat more fresh fruit and vegetables, but also this other vague idea that it’s slightly unethical to buy things that are out of season. Well, aubergines and rhubarb are both very much the fruits et legumes du jour, so I don’t feel bad about consuming them. Did you know that air-freighting kiwi fruits to the UK causes the release of FIVE TIMES the weight of each kiwi fruit in carbon dioxide?

Then we waited in the queue at the post office for absolutely ages. The thing is, our letterbox is too small for anything larger than a gas bill, and our doorbell doesn’t work. We’ve never bothered to fix the doorbell, because we don’t really know anyone who would need to use it, except the postie, and she usually comes when we’re not in. She was here at 9.30 this morning, but as our bedroom is on the second floor, and we were sleeping, we didn’t hear her feeble tap at the door. She left us a little card, which meant that we had to get to the p’off by 12.30, along with almost the entire population of the town.

The p’off used to open until 7pm on weekdays for the collection of parcels, but their new years resolution was to reduce their customer service to the lowest possible level without actually closing for good. Every single person in that long, long queue was grumbling, and what with the bitter cold wind and the inconvenience of having to wait half an hour for a parcel that could probably squeezed through even our unsuitable letterbox, if the postie had only tried, one really can’t blame them.

We were so cold by the time we got home that we couldn’t tell our pasties apart. This was most unhelpful, since Pete’s contained stilton, which I’m currently not allowed to eat. He ate most of mine before identifying it as the cheese & mushroom one and handing it over. To get my own back, I opened all the windows in the entire house, to give it a good airing. You know there’s never enough fresh air during winter, so I like to let the breeze through every now and then. Sulking, he went to bed with all his clothes on, and refused to get out until I shut the windows.

However, every icy blast has its silver lining, and he soon worked out that the best way to warm up would be to wash up, and started cleaning up the kitchen. This inspired me to empty the freezer, which has needed defrosting for weeks. It doesn’t work properly, you see, and the drawers get stuck in clumps of ice so that you can’t open them.

At the bottom of the freezer I found a bag of mixed summer fruits, so I threw that into a pan, chopped up the rhubarb and some ginger root that has been in the fridge since the morning sickness stopped (it’s a good remedy, made into tea). Then I finished up a jar of honey that had gone all solid and fudge-like, which may have made the whole thing too sweet, but it will be okay. The topping is half plain flour, half wholemeal, sugar, butter, and the end of a packet of flaked almonds. It’s nearly ready.

This word should not be:

• Pronounced lee-jur
• Used as a verb.

Furthermore, it should not be pronounced lee-jur at the same time as being used as a verb.

Baby's age: -146 days

Tim has provided me with some content which may possibly be of interest. And frankly, if you’re not interested in babies, why are you still reading?

According to this article on BBC News today, expectant parents spend crazy amounts of money before the baby is even born. Of course, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that there is a lot of stuff you need, but I am bowled over by the figures quoted:

One out of every seven said they had spent between £2,000 and £2,500 preparing for their new baby. Meanwhile, one out of every 50 said they had spent more than £5,800.

So far, I have spent about £100 on maternity clothes, £30 on books about how to be pregnant, £100 for the scan, and maybe £20 on pregnancy vitamins. Oh, and £1.50 on a money box in the shape of a cat. It’s cool; the slot for money is in its arse.

I’m very lucky to work somewhere that has an apparently bottomless supply of baby gear available for free. Okay, so it’s a bit random; I have just acquired a bright pink bath and potty, which will be fine if we have a girl; and if it’s a boy, then we will be able to profess a very liberal approach to gender stereotyping.

Meanwhile, have these people never heard of ebay? Most baby things are only in use for a few months, and wise parents then sell them on. In fact, I reckon half the stuff on ebay goes round and round; it’s like one big baby equipment library. You don’t actually need a designer pram or specially shaped towels. Shouldn’t they be thinking in terms of sensible spending now that they’ve got a baby on the way?