Not nesting, but baking

Nesting is a phenomenon common to pregnancy, though it’s one I’ve yet to experience. Bruce and I were watching an episode of Gilmour Girls (restraints and the promise of fried egg sandwiches can accomplish just about anything) wherein the character Lane alludes to a ninth-month cleaning frenzy. Bruce turned to me and said YOU! GET NESTING ALREADY! Because oddly enough, I feel not even the slightest urge to pull out all our dishes and wipe down the insides of cupboards, or attack our baseboards with a toothbrush. I know, right?

I am, however, becoming more prolific in the kitchen, and find that meticulously following a recipe from beginning to end accomplishes a feeling similar to what I imagine nesting might engender. I know it’s not exactly the perk he envisioned, but given that I somehow managed to skip the honeymoon period, cravings and happy hormones altogether, I think this is probably a good (and tasty) compromise.



We’ve got a lovely New Years Eve lined up, with sparkling juice and cheese roulade and gourmet jelly beans and DVD thrillers – a veritable smorgasbord of non-alcoholic activity, which I think I’d prefer to the champagne nightmare of sub-zero London even if the pregnancy wasn’t an issue. For years I’d been unsuccessfully trying to fool myself into believing that putting on a nicer outfit and paying more money to spend the night in a bar you frequent anyway somehow constitutes an event.

Speaking of events – last night we were in bed, deciphering the erratic Braille of my belly with a note of panic because we were certain that the baby had somehow flipped right around and was now breeched. This is not a good scenario in pregnancy, because although it’s possible to deliver a breeched baby naturally, more often than not they will opt for a c-section, which is somehow safer for mother and baby overall. Luckily we had an appointment with the midwife today and so hadn’t long to wait on that verdict.

She spent a long time feeling the contours of my distended belly, frowning and not saying much, until she pinched my abdominal area, where the head usually sits. “There’s usually a head there,” I said uncertainly, and she said, “Yes, it’s still there, and it looks like . . . it’s fully engaged.” With first pregnancies, the baby will drop into the pelvis and engage within the last few weeks leading up to the birth. Really what it means is that all systems are go, and D-day could come at any time, which we knew already. But at least he’s made a firm decision about which way around he’d like to greet the world.



If I don’t talk to you beforehand, I hope you all enjoy the transition into 2009. Send me a note or an email if you want to be included on the list of people who receive a puffy, red-faced photo of me and the little grub. Otherwise, I’ll report back here once we’ve all recovered and give you the real skinny on labour and motherhood, as I see it anyway.

Love,

Friday Films