"Harti" at 20 weeks gestation

Dominik and I were at the hospital in Dundee on Wednesday, 18 June for the baby's second ultrasound at 20 weeks. It was really cool to see the sonographic technology in use. We could see the four ventricles of its heart. It had the circumference of its head and length of its femur measured. I looked over my left shoulder to Dominik to see his facial expression and saw that he was reading a neuroscience paper from work, which I promptly instructed him to put away. Later when we were back at the car park, I asked him if he was bored with the examination. He replied, "No, just extremely nervous. The paper was anchoring me from shaking too much." (Sweet.) From what the sonographer could tell, everything looked to be in order. Before leaving we asked for the sex of the baby; she told us we would be having a boy. He'll be the first son, grandson (for both sides) and great grandson . . . definitely most spoilt!


Later on that evening, I worked in Newport at the junior boys' club (Rio Juniors) as substitute for one of the Youth Workers. The first half went smoothly, but the second half of the night was a nightmare. The boys (ages 11-12) were so unruly and mouthy. I came home from work and just bawled my eyes out. I don't think I was prepared for the doctor to tell me it would be a boy. I had secretly hoped for a girl. A girl I figured, as illogic as it will sound, I could raise. But me, the mother of a boy? I don't know how to raise a boy . . . I always hung out with the naughtier ones. Would mine turn out to be so? Would my upbringing of him go askew, god forbid he turn into a hooligan? Or a thug? Or a . . . okay, I was over-reacting. The next day I was completely fine. These upcoming parenthood moments can be a little overwhelming from time to time.

Emotional traumas aside, I'm fortunately over the hump of sore breasts, morning sickness and head colds that plagued my first trimester. I can say that I feel like I have settled into life as an expectant mother of a boy for the time being. This past Sunday (22 June), I felt "Hartmut" kicking around for the first time when I was lying in bed. Up until that point I'd only felt "fluttering" on the inside of my uterus wall, which was a very pleasant and surprisingly soft sensation in its own right! On Thursday (26 June) while I was typing on the laptop, I looked down and saw a momentary bulge emerge from the left side of my abdomen. I was like, "Whooaa!" It was wild -- like something out of one of the Alien films.

Oh, but on Wednesday (25 June), the middle of my trunk hurt like hell. It was all cramped up, which Dom and I figured was due to a shortage of calcium and/or magnesium for the day (the milk had soured that morning). And then twice in the night I woke up with the worst leg cramps. Dom still makes the best nurse in the whole wide world when gets up to rub them out. Today, though, he stocked me up on all those necessary minerals so there will be no cramping tonight -- I hope.

Muscle cramps aren't the only challenges to face; Dominik and I have had one brain cramp after another trying to think up names . . . mostly still quite silly, and providing a good laugh, at this point. We come up with names like Primus Gambrinus Maximus Endres or Hartmut (which is considered the Franconian drunk village idiot) or Bacchus M. T. (like an empty [M.T.] glass of Bacchus wine) or, as Barb F. put it, "gangrenous" Gabrinus, or Notburga (then shortened to Notty, as in a Snotty Notty) . . . the list goes on and on. The poor child-to-be. We're open to suggestions in case anyone reading this has any to offer.

And finally, here's a "family" picture taken yesterday on Dominik's birthday (26 June).