Our little girl grew from four navel oranges to a jicama in one week. Fancy that. Without the jicama in my culinary reference, I first had to find out what a jicama was: the big Mexican brother of our humble potato (which of course was also a native from more exotic places). The ultrasound we had last Thursday confirmed her size: a good two kilos (wow, that means you just need one jicama for a pan of stamppot?). Fast forward to today: no more contractions, so the strict bed rest seems to have worked wonders. Although I am officially not on bed rest anymore, with my energy level still below zero, I am still keeping to a kitty schedule: eat - sleep- sleep- eat- sleep. Boris and Boika are well impressed!
Meanwhile our little girl seems to be deliciously unaware of all the commotion; sleeping, kicking, growing and hiccupping away. Foetal hiccups are the strangest sensation: rhythmic, persistent, little poppings in your bump.
Apparently hiccups are a sign of a healthy baby as it helps to mature their longs, so they are not only entertaining, but reassuring as well. Or maybe there is an environmental link and she gets excited at the prospect of food already, just like me! More on genetic and environmental links later, I have been meaning to write something about that for ages now.
1 comment:
Koester de hikjes!
En als jullie jicama er later uit is en ze krijgt de hik, is het een heel grappige gedachte dat ze precies zo zat te hikken in je buik.
Post a Comment