Mrs C is out tonight for the second consecutive Wednesday night (the cheek!). She’s gone to a one-to-one session with an Alexander Technique (AT) teacher. In short the AT is a way to relieve aches and pains by improving your posture. The AT teacher pokes, prods, bends and twists you to show you how to improve the way to stand, sit, walk, run, well just about do anything and it can genuinely stop back, neck and shoulder pain. In our former lives (well, when we lived in Birmingham) Mrs C went to a group class to help her with her posture when out running. I was a little dubious as to its actually benefits but after 6 weeks of classes it had fixed her problems and she was hooked.

During her pregnancy Mrs C is hoping that the AT will make her pregnancy more comfortable and less stressful. So we have a book from the library - with some quite frankly pornographic pictures (if I understand the picture correctly, the birth itself could be very enjoyable for me) - and she has booked two trials with local teachers.

Last weeks lesson was with a teacher in Lichfield in what Mrs C described as “quite literally her living room”. Sadly the lesson made Mrs C feel very uncomfortable. She’s, unsurprisingly, very sensitive to anyone touching her tummy and the teacher went straight for it as she tried to correct Mrs C’s posture. This began a chain of events that culminated in Mrs C “quite literally being sick in a strangers living room”. The teacher felt so bad that she told Mrs C that she didn’t need to pay (Mrs C insisted that she took the money anyway).

This week she is trying out a different teacher that’s further away but hopefully wont induce quite so much vomiting. Anyway, we’ll see how she gets on but anything that makes her feel better even if it’s just psychologically then it can only be a good thing.

I’ve been quite lucky with the amount of support I’ve had since I let people know Mrs C is pregnant. Quite a few of my work colleagues are about the same age as me, with wives and kids. They’ve been there and experienced what I’m experiencing for the first time; it’s very reassuring to know that they pretty much felt the same as I have done over the past few weeks. But I find they tend to drift between passing on rose tinted stories and mildly patronising advice.

So I’m very lucky that of one of my work mates/cycling buddies is also expecting a baby (a few weeks behind Mrs C and me). I’ve really got an ear to bend with my stories and someone (other than Mrs C, obviously) to share this with. We exchange “Oh tell me about it!”s and “I had that very same conversation only yesterday”s and I can’t begin to say how much better it makes me feel to know that he is going through the same as me. He never says “20 Week scan, well soon you’ll be *insert experience*”; every response is 100% genuine, heart-on-the-sleeve, “this is really happening” stuff. I’m going to say it again, I’m very lucky.

Despite supporting each other he still wont tell me the names they’ve thought of for their baby in case we steal them. And I’ve given him “Tombola”! I’m a fool…

Back in real life, I also take comfort in reading the blogs of other parents and expectant parents out there on t’internet. Maybe this pregnancy thing has made me go a little soft (in a good way) but I’m particularly like this one. It makes me want to be a father even more than I do right now.

You might like to take a moment and bask in the sheer wonder and technical wizardry that is my “Fatherhood Expected In” countdown timer! (Not back by popular demand).

I took it down, I told myself, because I didn’t like the styling on it. But in reality that was an easy fix so I’m fairly certain it was the constant reminder of what the future holds that made me take it down. Anyway it’s back, restyled and I think it adds something to the blog. What do you all think?

I discovered yesterday that the old cliche of pregnant women “eating for two” can be joined by “shopping for two”. As Mrs C has grown she’s obviously needed some new maternity clothes. Trying to find shops that actually sell half decent maternity clothes has been a challenge in itself, but that’s another post.

However, since we’ve discovered that we’re having a boy, Mrs C has had renewed shopping energy. The chance to buy clothes for someone else, and clothes that will fit and that don’t look like there from communist east Germany for that, has been too much. We know that it makes sense for us not to buy too much now as our parents, aunties and uncles, friends etc have all promised to buy and donate things to us when closer to the time, but it doesn’t reduce the urge to shop. Most certainly not in Mrs C.

So yesterday we made a trip to Solihull because “I need a swimming costume” (this is partly related to fears about people thinking she’s just plain fat). Mamas & Papas and Mamman Jojo Bebe (shops I hadn’t heard of 4 months ago) were on the itinerary. M&P is essentially the Harrods of baby shops. It has some really wonderful things in there, but with eye-watering price tags.

Mrs C said she wanted to show me a nursing chair that she had seen in the store: “It reclines, and rocks and is the most comfortable chair you’ll every sit in.” I was fairly dubious of that but thought ‘Rocking chair? Sounds fun!’. As I sat into the chair, Mrs C pulled a lever on the side. I leant back and it relined.

“Oh sweet Jesus!”.

Waves of tiredness rolled over me and I could feel myself drifting off to the land of nod. I just managed to say “How much?” but was too far gone to hear the answer….

As Mrs C’s pregnancy has progressed, it’s fair to say that she’s noticed a few changes taking place in her body. I wont go into it in any more detail because it’s getting close to tea time but it’s the usual pregnancy stuff. Now, you might think that only an idiot would be surprised by these chnages, but we’re new to this pregnancy lark and every day is a new day for us in terms of experience. It’s all a bit of a learning curve and I’m sure every couple goes through it.

Up ’till now one of Mrs C’s biggest concerns was that people would think that she had just let herself go. That she was eating to much and was becoming a fatso. She dealt with this by doing her best to cover up her stomach and to try and not let too many work colleagues see that she was eating constantly.

Today, a special moment in Mrs C’s pregnancy was reached. “I think it’s obvious that I’m pregnant now. I don’t just look fat.”

She proclaimed. It’s undoubtedly important that Mrs C feels good about herself during the next few months so I’m pleased that she doesn’t have such a negative self-image any more.

What I’ve read elsewhere, this might not last too long, so I’m going to enjoy the high as long as it last and try to be there as best I can for the lows, if and when they come again.

I mentioned yesterday that the nurse at our scan described the baby as “naughty”. This personality trait is something that I’ve been worried about for sometime now. Just how naughty might our unborn child be?

If naughtiness is inherited then, I fear, it could well be the naughtiest child ever to walk the face of the planet. Although, I struggle to remember the specific events, my parents assure me, with some rose tinted satisfaction, that I was particularly naughty. I wouldn’t do as I was told and was always crying. I do have a memory of running down the street away from my mum in tears as the two of us went to visit my Grandma and Granddad in Deal, but other than that nothing really sticks out in my mind.

It’s Mrs C’s mother (Mrs A) that I am worried about though. Mrs C has very vivid memories of locking her Grandma (or Big Nana as they called her) in the cellar of her parents’ house. It was only after 30 minutes of Big Nana banging on cellar wall and the next door neighbour happening to go down in to their cellar that Big Nana was released from her time in the makeshift clink. This wouldn’t be too worrying by itself but at a family do, the very same story was told about Mrs A locking her Nana out doors in the freezing cold. Locking Nana’s out/in seems to be genetic.

Mrs A had better watch out. The only peace of mind that she can afford herself is that our little terrorist is going to be a boy and I was always very nice to my Grandparents; once you’d got me in their houses, that is.