Lightning In A Box

10:30am, Monday 30th August, 2010. When She Who Must Be Obeyed and myself went into Glangwili hospital in Carmarthen to have the first (official) monitor session, to see Pickles' heartrate and activity. (I say official because we had an unforseen session of heartworks last week due to a blip in blood pressure but all was okay.)
Being a bank holiday the hospital was empty and of course the maternity ward was where the action was happening. We waited an hour to get a bed but it was a pleasant day and the dayroom was comfortable. Tea on tap too.
The midwife was lovely and when a bed cropped up, She Who Must Obeyed was hooked up to the baby monitor and after the nurse adjusted the volume on her box of tricks,little Pickles' heart was suddenly bouncing off the ward walls, drowning every other sound with her Life mechanics. A smile spread across my chops like I had just realised id won the lottery, and in a sense I have. We have.
The monitor was on for around 45 minutes and each of those minutes was a joy to tick off. Never has three quarters of an hour been so well spent! We could hear our baby daughters heartbeat, all that seperating us, a thin layer of flesh. We are lucky to be living in an age where these machines are the norm, not so long ago parents to be had nothing like this wizardry to hand.

Pickles

There is a simple answer to how I came to Christen She Who Must Be Obeyed's bump, 'Pickles'. Pickled Onion flavoured Monster Munch crisps. During the early stages of her pregnancy, She Who Must Be Obeyed craved the things. And so Pickles was born. (Obviously not LITERALLY!) I think it a fabulous name for our unborn daughter, and it suits a girl much better than it would a boy I feel. I dislike the names 'bump' or 'mini-me', they are too popular like labradors and jack russells.
Pickles is far more personal and has bags more charm.

A Legend For Thanksgiving

My partner (who from here on shall be known as She Who Must Be Obeyed) and I have worked out that our unborn baby (known as Pickles) was concieved around the American Thanksgiving holiday, November 25, 2009. A day we decided to celebrate here in West Wales, purely for reasons of gluttony on my behalf. (I hate missing out on feasts of any kind.) And it has turned out that from 2010 onward it will be kept on as a celebration, but of course the festivities will not be in honour of food or drink, they will be because of Life.
And not just any Life! Our childs life, a life we both never for once gave thought would happen. To be honest I believed I had killed off my healthy sperm during the hedonistic days of my twenties and I gave short notice to any idea of becoming a father a long time ago. Still, as that dreadfully irksome song goes, what will be will be. And this certainly will be. All thanks to my rampant top shelf urges and a desire for turkey and roast potatoes.