Pregnancy - Revisited by Nicholas Boldock

Life - it's a funny old game. Love, loss, rejection, success, pride, humility, happiness, sorrow - all part and parcel of the old cradle-to-grave board game. Personally, my life has taken a turn for the "bloody hectic" over the last week or so. And I think I now have an idea what this funny old game is all about.

Those of you who are lucky enough to have no problems with short or long-term memory may recall a piece called "My Pregnancy" which appeared on these pages a while back. That was the first part of my wife's personal account of the nine-month torture that is pregnancy (yes, ladies, I'm using my imagination here - forgive me).

She wrote the beginning of part two on a number of occasions, but eventually abandoned it as a lost cause. This was mainly due to the fact that she couldn't think of any more words for "vomit", which was really all there was to talk about back then. Also, it's not easy to type whilst simultaneously hoiking up your dinner at only a nanosecond's notice. Hence, the "diary" became a one-off piece.

Had Heidi continued writing her diary for thisisull, she would now be nearing the end of it. As we speak, she is in the Women And Children's Hospital at Hull Royal Infirmary. She isn't giving birth, or even in labour - yet. She is there because she has pre-eclampsia, a condition common in pregnant women. It is serious, but as long as Heidi is in hospital being looked after by the experts, and resting, it should not be anything to worry about unduly.

She's been in there for a week. As of today she is 33 weeks pregnant. The official due date for our son is April 4th, 2004. All the fours. That date is now a distant pipedream, and in reality he will be here a lot sooner, probably before March. Sobering thought, isn't it? It was definitely a Naked Lunch moment at the beginning of this week when it became clear that Heidi was probably (almost definitely) going to spend the rest of her pregnancy in hospital, and that the period of that stay would be a helluva lot shorter than anticipated.

Heidi's been brave. She detests hospitals - this is especially unfortunate if you know how much time she has spent in them over the years! She's dealing with this stay pretty well, all things considered. Obviously her primary concern is for the welfare of the baby. It helps that this particular hospital - the brand-spanking-new building next to the imposing HRI tower block - is welcoming and comfortable. The wards are divided into rooms with four beds in each.

There's ample room in between beds, unlike in the older wards in the main building. The staff are friendly and approachable, and of course, highly specialist. As Heidi's husband, I am allowed to visit between 9 and 9 every day (visiting hours for others are strict) which means I have been getting under the midwives' feet regularly this week. It also means I have a good idea of how well my wife is being looked after, and suffice to say I don't need to worry when I come home at night. She's in safe hands. continued below

Pregnancy - Revisited continued by Nicholas Boldock

That said, it seems unfair that she should have to be there at all. We waited a long time before we were lucky enough to jump on the express train to parenthood. Heidi in particular was getting increasingly frustrated. But then, we cracked it. Just like that. We had an appointment for the sub-fertility clinic - we cancelled when Heidi fell pregnant.

The irony is not lost on either of us. After all that waiting - and related stress - it seems perfectly reasonable to give Heidi a break. A stress-free, worry-free, problem-free pregnancy would do just fine. As if. We've had one worry after another from day one. Of course, it'll all be worth it soon. I feel guilty saying that. I don't feel it's my place to say it. It's not like I'm suffering, not directly. It's Heidi who has to put up with the pain and discomfort, the erratic blood pressure, the injections, the constant poking and prodding. Don't get me wrong - I'd do it all instead if I could. Really. I'd happily jump into that lumpy hospital bed and send Heidi home to put her feet up in front on the telly. Not possible. She's stuck with it. At least there isn't long left.

We're getting to that intrepid, euphoric stage now, where we just can't wait to see our baby. Everything is ready. He has a great new nursery which I wholeheartedly decorated and prepared [at this point the author glows with pride]. It's fab - all it needs now is a baby to sleep in it. We're stocked up on clothes, nappies, baby wipes, this, that, the other - you name it, we've got it ready.

Pretty soon the circle will be complete and we'll have our baby boy here with us. It's a massive concept. Sometimes, before I go to bed at night, I go into his bedroom, where his cot is up and ready, and I imagine gently laying him down to sleep in it. I picture him sleeping, peaceful and perfect, and I know that everything is going to be fine. Just fine.

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