Picture the scene: I was sitting on the loo (OK, you don’t have to picture the scene in any detail) when Varinder walked in.
“Flush the loo and spray some freshener!”
I looked up at her absent mindedly and nearly jumped out of my skin with shock.
My yell made Varinder jump – not good since she is heavily pregnant with twins.
I pointed to her midriff.
“These are maternity knickers you idiot!”
“Why do they have to cover your entire bulge right up to your armpits?”
“Don’t exaggerate. Anyway they give me support.”
I swear I could have stitched up the holes her legs went through and used into parachute into occupied Iraq.
The fact is that although Varinder is only 19 weeks pregnant, she looks like she has reached full term. I can’t imagine her stomach growing anymore. Her belly button has stretched so much it looks Chinese.
To top everything, she has bought a maternity pillow which is shaped rather like a boomerang and is as tall as she is. I have to sleep with this thing between us. She tells me it helps support the bulge carrying our twins. More than once she has banged my face with it while I was sleeping and she was trying to adjust it. What happened to the compact door stop shaped foam cushion we had before?
A week or so ago, I was woken up by Varinder telling me not to touch her stomach. I wasn’t. So I sat up to see what was going on. To our delight we realised it was one of the twins giving an occasional kick. The kicks are now fairly routine and Varinder finds them very comforting. I am given kick by kick updates and run over to her in the hope of feeling one for myself. As yet, I haven’t had the pleasure.
In addition to her huge belly which makes her waddle through Selfridges like a Penguin, she has developed enormous breasts which are still growing. At least one of her six week old maternity bras has already ripped around the cup.
“What I find freaky about women,” I tell her, “is how they can produce milk without eating grass…”
“You think you are so funny don’t you,” She replies as she waddles away.
We are going on our final holiday before we become parents. Our destination is a luxurious hotel on a peninsula in the North of the Spanish island of Majorca. It is very secluded and far from everything. With a few good books to keep us company, we will return home extremely chilled.
Varinder’s doctor, however, was far from chilled when we told him we were flying to Spain.
“You realise some airlines won’t even let Varinder board if she is carrying twins.”
“We have already checked with BA and they are fine as long as she isn’t over 30 weeks.”
He pondered Varinder’s stomach for a minute before telling her to wear maternity socks, drink plenty of water and walk around at every opportunity to minimise the risk of deep vein thrombosis or DVT.
On the way home I asked her if she felt completely happy about flying.
“Air hostesses fly until they are 6 months gone.”
So there we have it, we fly very soon.
“One last thing,” I asked her, “you know that great big Sony camera? Wouldn’t it be great to buy a smaller camera I can just drop into my top pocket when we go out?”
“Look, if you let me get a new digital camera I promise not to buy any clothes for the holiday.”
She turned to me with one of her, you idiot! looks before dealing with my request once of and for all:
“You obviously don’t need clothes because you are not desperate to buy any. And you certainly don’t need a camera because you have a perfectly good one you bought less than 6 months ago. Looks like you’re not getting anything then.” With that she left me on my own in our now beautifully perfumed bathroom.
I will report back after our holidays and hopefully manage to share some pictures showing just how pregnant my gorgeous wife looks. Hopefully she will let me.
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