Hearing the heartbeat
Yesterday I heard my baby's heartbeat for the first time. It was my second appointment with my lovely midwife Sally, which I thought would simply be a routine session of questions, clambering onto the weighing scales and multiple blood tests – honestly, midwives are worse than vampires. What I wasn't banking on was being able to listen to a thumping heartbeat coming from deep within the depths of my tummy, racing away disconcertingly fast and unsteady.
In fact it was such an unexpected joy that I lay on the paper towel-covered couch in the consulting room with a demented grin on my face throughout. Then, as a little muffle came over the monitoring machine, which Sally explained was the baby moving, my eyes filled with tears.
My ridiculously regular waterworks will no doubt become a common thread through these blogs – I just can’t stop! In fact, it was a good job I had to dash off to the loo straight afterwards to pee in a cup, so I could have a little weep without letting on what an emotional cry baby I really am. I'm sure Sally has seen it a thousand times before, but I felt I needed to maintain some illusion of composure!
Since then I've stared at my slightly rounded tummy, felt it, even tried to listen to it (ever tried getting your ear near your navel?) but it still feels utterly bizarre that the heartbeat I heard so clearly yesterday was coming from my baby, in my
Every day I obsessively check a pregnancy app to discover which fruit or veg the baby is supposed to be the size of – a sweet potato now, apparently – and every day I look at my tummy and think, 'How is that possible?'