Recently in Pregnancy Category

Helen gave birth to our beautiful son, Dominic James at 00:41 this morning. He was 55cm tall, weighed 8lb 7oz and is the greatest thing ever. Everything went as well as these things do, everyone's healthy and very happy. More later, maybe. More pictures

By our calculations, Helen has been pregnant for 289 days. Googling for pregnancy length we found this. Given that the baby already has a selection of cuddly toy cows, Helen wasn't as disconcerted as you might think.

When Helen was a student in Liverpool, she used to catch the bus into town from a stop on the opposite side of a dual carriageway from a cashpoint. It soon became apparent that crossing the road to get cash would inevitably mean a bus pulling around the corner without quite enough time to get back to catch it. In time, it became established practice that merely talking aloud about your intention to cross the road would be enough to make the bus gods take heed and send a #86 along.

Applying these principles, Helen has started removing items from the bags that have been packed and waiting by the door since early January (we had been worried that the baby may have done a 'FitzGerald') and loudly remarking, within earshot of our unborn and possibly the neighbours, that she was about to slip into something that she had been saving to wear in hospital.

Result: still nothing. We suspect this immaculate bluff may have failed because the baby knows full well that Everest expeditions have been launched with less gear in their luggage and is happily sitting tight.

The baby's head seems to have moved down a bit and the consultant we saw on Thursday thinks the baby is at the first stage of being engaged - 'slightly fixed', meaning fixed but with the potential to float back out again should he/she feel so inclined.

Feel a little bit in limbo and Helen keeps waking up wondering if today is the day. All visitors to the house are now required to give the baby clear instructions to hurry up and come out. The baby seems set to head beyond 'fashionably late' and is edging towards sheer bloody-mindedness (they say the apple never falls very far from the tree..).

...is no news really. The due date is this Wednesday but the doctor has said that thus far there's no sign of the head engaging, meaning m'lovely wife is in danger of being late for something for the first time in her life (my genes showing through there, I think). Given that she's also said that its likely to be a big baby, Helen isn't especially pleased at the minute.

The lateness could mean one of three things. One day late would mean that the baby would share Bampi's birthday. Two days late means it would be born on Friday 13th - we're not even vaguely superstitious but we did the pregnancy test on Friday 13th June and will be checking for the baby for tattoos on arrival. Three days late would make it a Valentines baby - a bit too gooey although a lifetime of impressed postmen awaits. Also, given yer Stoppard's recommendation for natural inducement of labour, this year's St Valentines Day for us will be business as usual.

(Curries, we like takeaway curries.)

Helen sings with the Accord singers (their rendition of Riu Riu universally acclaimed as being the musical high watermark of this fledgling century) and their latest newsletter contains this gem-

There are not many valid excuses for missing our rehearsals or concerts. However, Helen thought she had come up with a pretty good one - congratulations to her and Jim on starting their family. Graham hastily called a meeting of the contracts and conditions of service sub-committee to check that he was correct in allowing Helen one whole week of maternity leave. This was confirmed with a reminder of the following clause - "should the member fail to return from leave for any reason it is assumed that their spouse or partner, or next of kin [excepting the newborn], will attend rehearsals in his/her absence perform at concerts [including solo parts] AND buy the first round at the pub afterwards. Should it be a multiple birth the corresponding number of rounds shall be bought." ...Wonder if we'll get to sing at the Christening??

Reasons against

• as everyone knows, due to my strict Methodist upbringing, I personally never touch the demon drink and couldn't live with myself if I thought that by buying a round I'd be sending those whom I hold in great esteem on the wide, winding path to eternal damnation.
• given that I've now lived in Yorkshire for ten years, some of the habits seem to be rubbing off on me. My arms seem no longer to reach the end of my pockets.
• I can't sing, as anyone who's heard my karaoke murdering of Wayne Fontana can attest.

Reasons for

• I own a black turtle-neck jumper.
• I can't sing in Spanish, French, Latin, German or Olde English either.

(More backstory) Back in late September 2003, Helen had her 20 week scan and we got to see our baby for the first time. It turned out that a perk of working for the Trust was that we got our scan pictures for free and for nothing. In my best comedy voice, I said we'd have a dozen then please and it was only later that we realised the radiographer had taken us at our word. (Nobody ever gets my jokes). These scans, then, are the best of seven (!). The e-mail we sent that night to Mum, Dad and Jo read:

"Helen was ultrasounded this morning. Baby very healthy, albeit with a slightly big head - apparently its too late to start smoking to offset this. As we watched he/she (we didn't ask) unclenched his/her little fists in what we like to think of as a high-five greeting, could see all the little bones in the hand. Zoomed in on his mouth and he did big yawn as we watched and then looked like he was trying to suck his thumb. Have yet to stop smiling."

This is still pretty much the case.