Dreams

Every night I have the same dream. I dream that I wake up hungry, but before I can do anything about it, a fairy comes to me. She is dressed in white, her hair is white, her embrace is warm and she doesn't seem to touch ground as she brings me into the living room where she gives me warm milk to drink. I feel so relaxed in her arms that soon I fall asleep again. Next time I wake up she is no longer there, but I know that I'll only have to wait for the next night to come to see her again.
My mum tells me that there is an army of fairies in the dream-world that are responsible for the wellbeing of little boys like me during the night. Each of them is dedicated to one baby making sure that they are warm and well fed and that their dreams are sweat. She has warned me not to speak to my fairy or look her in the eyes, for else she might become scared and not show up in my dreams the following night. I wouldn't want to scare away my little fairy, so I try not to do this. But sometimes I manage to strap a hair or two from her as I'm drinking, and when I wake up in the morning the hair is still in my fist -which makes me wonder if I had been dreaming at all!

Ray of Sunshine

If you are wondering why my mum calls me her Ray of Sunshine (Solargeislann sinn) then take a look at this photo! I'm not saying that I smile and laugh all the time, but I do quite a lot of it, especially when my parents are playing with me and in general my smile is never far away.
And in case you have something to say about my hairdo, then my disrespectful mum is responsible for it. After taking the bath one evening, she stroked my head while breastfeeding me, and as a consequence I woke up like this in the morning. Of course I knew nothing about it, but my mum ran to get the camera when she saw me, so I suspected there was something particular about me that morning. Anyway, it made her laugh, and if it makes your mood good seeing me on this picture, then I'd say that my mission is accomplished.
Big hugs, Oscar

Tuscany

I've just come back from a short visit down to Tuscany to visit my grandparents. My parents have been planning to go there for some time but finally they decided that the visit couldn't wait, so they filled the car with all my stuff (amazing how many things are needed for a small person like me) and rushed down to Arezzo on saturday morning. I fell asleep just as we left Pavia, and hardly opened my eyes until Val d'Arno, which is between Firenze and Arezzo. 5 km before the exit to Arezzo I started to be hungry -but my mum managed to distract me so that she didn't have to pull out the milk-tanks until we arrived to my grandparent's house. We can safely say that this first really long drive went very well. My grandparents were very surprised to see us (well, it was a surprise visit), and of course I was the center of the attention for the rest of the weekend.
I have just started to realize the existence of "persons", so even if I'd seen my grandparents many times before, I was very suspectful when they took me in their arms, and didn't really feel completely safe unless I could see either my dad or my mum. This made my parents both happy and worried. Happy because it manifested the fact that I know them and that I feel safe and well in their presence. Worried because they think that maybe I will be too attached to them and scared of other people. The remidy, they say, is that all of you come to visit us, so that I get more used to having people around me :)
My parents used the opportunity and took a lot of photos of me (not that they hadn't done that before also...sigh) while we were with my grandparents. We even went on a photographic-safari in my grandparent's garden, where the trees and flowers are in full blossom, even if spring is not supposed to start (officially i.e.) for another week. I was in a rather bad mood on this safari, but my parents have a strange sense of humour and rather than waiting until I was in a good mood they took the photos anyway. You can see one of them here in the blog.
The drive back to Pavia went rather well also. I was awake most of the time, I started to cry for food just after we passed Bologna (who wouldn't...Bologna is one of the culinary-capital's of italy, and one gets hungry just to hear the name!), so my parents stopped at the service-station in Modena where I got my dinner.
I think that we can safely go on other long trips soon -although I don't guarantee that I'll behave so well next time!

Just before finishing I'd like to remind you of my mum's away-from Iceland anniversery. Yesterday it was 10 years since she took the plane to England with two suitcases and the idea to go abroad for a year. Here we are, 10 years and 3 countries later, and although my mum wouldn't mind at all being in Iceland -especially now that I've been born- then my parents have no immediate plans of moving there. But let's hope that we go there this summer to visit friends and family and so that I can breath in the fantastic clean air and enjoy the beauty of my mother-land. My mum thinks it's also important for me to go there if I'm to grow up a viking!!

Bless bless

Sleeping

Daginn
The subject that tops my mum's list of conversation-themes is sleeping. And it's not just her. Other mothers that she meets are also very interested in the subject -even mums that we meet when we are outside walking, those that we don't know at all, they always stop for a talk that can go something like this:
Ciao
Ciao
A boy or a girl
A boy
How big he is!!! How old is he?
2 months
And does he sleep during the night?
...and that’s it..they’ve found a common interest and the conversation is on to a track that it can follow for a long time. I figure that it takes on average 23 seconds to arrive to this subject, and my mum never seems to be exhausted of talking about this. But then again, I do give her something to talk about. The first month I woke up at least every 3 hours, sometimes more often, during the night, I was just that hungry! Then on the first of February I decided to start to sleep 5 hours after the last breastfeeding of the evening, and 10 days later I did 6 hours for the first time. My mum was extremely pleased, for this meant that also she could sleep through the night...but only if I made life so simple for her. My mum thinks that I must be one of the most irregular babies in the world, for my sleep-pattern is so irregular that my parents never know what to expect. One night I might do 6+3 (hours of sleep between breastfeeding), then 4+4, for then to do 3+3+2, 3+4+1, 4.5+3+2, 6+3, 6+2+1. So my mum gives me a small lecture every evening about good night sleep and then she is off to bed immediately when I go to sleep hoping that I'll do the marvellous 6 hours. I don't really know why I'm so irregular...I'm also irregular during the day. One explanation might be that when the stork brought me, and gave me my character (they do that don't they?) he mixed up a bit the shipment and gave all the regularity to my room-mate in hospital -Francesca- whereas I got all the irregularity! Francesca must be the most regular baby in history. From when she was born she sleeps 5-6 hours without interruption during the night. At 3 weeks she skipped the breastfeeding during the night and started sleeping from 11 pm to 7 am. Now she has skipped the last feeding of the evening (doing only the total of FOUR feedings during the whole day...I do 7!) so she sleeps from 8-7. During the day she eats at a higly regular 4 hours interval, and is a marvellous calm and beautiful baby! My mum gets green of envy when she meets Francesca's mum. To be honest, I wouldn't mind being a bit more like Francesca, but it's just that I'm always soooo hungry! But at least my mum is very happy of how efficient I am while breastfeeding. After the initial “hanging-on-to-the-milk-tanks” for hours on end, I’ve started to feed in about 7 minutes, then it takes me a couple of minutes to fall asleep, then my mum waits until the “arm-trial” is successful (she lifts up my arm and if it’s sleeping, then I’m deep sleeping, if not, she waits a couple of minutes more before re-trying), and then I’m off to bed. So her night-feeding are rather short!

Day-sleeping is another subject that interests my mum, but she has less opportunity to talk about. Sometimes I have a bit of problem sleeping during the day, but that is because I love to play with my mum and to examine my surroundings and sometimes I get so overstimulated that I just can’t fall asleep and my parents have to play all kinds of tricks to get me to fall asleep. Some days they just don’t manage at all, and I stay awake for hours. Then I get a bit irritated. Sometimes I fall asleep but wake up again very soon, but sometimes I sleep for hours after they put me to bed. My parents still haven’t figured out what makes the difference, they just accept that sometimes they are doomed to fail. Recently my parents have started to try to let me fall asleep by myself. Then they wait until I’m very tired, put me to bed and then wait and see if I can fall asleep without them playing their tricks. Sometimes I do, but I get so easily involved in examining my surroundings that often I end up wide-awake. Once, only once, did I fall asleep while playing with my mum. She was so surprised that she ran to get the camera, so here you have a picture of me, lying on my parents bed where I’d been playing with my mum when Morfeus came to hug me, and I slept for a good hour.

And before leaving you, here is the top 5 list of where and how I like to fall asleep.

1. At the end of a lovely breastfeeding
2. In my parents arms
3. In the car
4. In the carrycot when my parents take me on long walks
5. In the kangaroo-bag
Nighty-night....

Clothes

Ciao
Why has no one thought of starting a baby-clothes rental? It would be very convenient for everyone -you would always have clothes the right size and you wouldn't feel that you were wasting money on clothes that one can only use for a couple of weeks. Maybe my mum should start the business when she wants to go back to work! She could add maternity-clothes and nightgowns for the hospital to the rental agency!

I thought about this just now, when my mum was going through my clothes, putting away clothes that I've outgrown and putting in evidence those that I still haven't used but that will soon fit me. She has to do this job quite often, for else the risk is that I will outgrow some clothes before I even start using them.
As you may know I was born 49 cm, but now I'm 60 cm -and there is a lot of difference in that. My parents didn't know which size baby they were expecting, so the clothes they brought for me to the hospital made me disappear in textiles. When the nurses complained about it, my dad went and bought a couple of pyjamas that were the right size. Then when the milk-tanks got full and I could start eating a lot, I began to grow, and when I was 2 weeks old I couldn't wear any more the clothes that my dad had bought for me. Some days ago my mum tried to dress me in one of my (or her!) favourite sweaters from my early days, and it looked like a T-shirt on me, rather ridiculous! And sometimes my mum makes me wear pyjamas that are definately too little for me, I can hardly stretch my legs in them, but she feels that it would be a waste not to use them just a littttle bit longer. I just hope it doesn't block my growth to wear clothes that feel that tight!

But it's also difficult to understand the size of cloths. On some labels it's written that the piece is made for 1-2 months old babies, or 2-4 months old, but what on earth does that mean? My cousins in Iceland were born around 5 kg, but I also know some 2 months old babies that are weighing less, so how can people know which size to take? A lot of people gave me clothes that were meant for 3 months old babies, and some of these I have already outgrown -so either I'm huge or the producer have to rethink their labelling system.
The strangest label that my mum has seen so far however was on a french garment where it was written that the size was 60 cm in France and 62 cm in Germany. HOW CAN THAT BE? I know that the meter is in paris, and that German babies might be bigger than french...but I fail to see logic in the labeling!
Yet another thing about clothes are the buttons. I would reccomend to all producers of baby-clothes to number all the buttons on the pyjamas to make it easier for clumsy parents to button them up, especially when they are doing it at 3 in the night! My mum is extremily clumsy and somehow never seems to get things right the first time round. Sometimes it irritates me a lot when she has to redo everything, and all I want to do is go back to sleep, so a numbering system would be very much appreciated.
And since I've started suggesting things: how about elastic back on jackets so that it's easier to put the arms in the sleeves? or caps that don't fall over your eyes all the time and block your sight? And socks that don't fall off by themselves?
Any other suggestions?

Absent

Ciao
I know I had promised to write more often, but "our" (!!) internet connection has been very unstable the last couple of months, and it always seems that it's off when my mum has time to lend me her fingers to write.
But things are going quite well over here. I'm growing like a mushroom, I'm already over 6 kg and around 60 cm. My doctor was very pleased at my 2months control and asked my mum if she gave me the reindeer-milk to drink! I've started "chatting" alot, and my mum spends hours with me exercising the vowels. I'm very good on the AAAAs and EEEEs, and sometimes UUUs and have learnt how to put the mouth in position to say OOO, but still I don't get the right sound! But I love to imitate my mum and she seems to be pleased with me. I've also started trying (on my own) to use consonants, they are far more fun, and sometimes during the night my mum wakes up to my exercises. She says that I sound like an old car when I'm exercising...!! I've also started laughing, and I smile a lot, for I see how happy it makes my parents when I smile to them -sometimes the three of us just communicate with smiles and laughters, it is so much easier than the talking thing, and a smile can really say it all :)

Outside the spring is arriving. I can tell because the temperature is getting warmer, the trees are blossoming and the priest has started to visit the neighborhood to bless the houses -with the consequences that people spend days cleaning their houses, for they don't want the priest to bless also the dirt that has accumulated during the winter !! My mum normally doesn't let the priest bless her flat -well, she doesn't really forbid him to do that, he can bless all he wants, but she doesn't really see the necessity of going around doing the blessing-thing, can't he just do it once and for all at the sunday-mass? My mum's colleagues tell her that the blessing-visits are also a way for the priest to collect some money, for people pay him for blessing the houses! Some priests are even so economically minded that they visit the farms several times, first to bless the house, then to bless the animals, and then to bless the crop....!
With the spring comes even more outdoor-time. My parents bring me on long walks and I've started to know the neighbourhood by heart. I'm normally very good on these walks, but it sometimes happens that I'm hungry (or warm...my mum is doing some empirical learning, one day e.g. she found out that a child should NOT be covered in wool when it's 20°C outside) or just bored...then I do let them know that I'm not happy and they hurry with me home :)

Anyway, I don't have time to write more now, but lets hope (see, no more promises to be broken) that I can write more often in the future.
Big hugs,
Oscar

Exercises!

Every time I'm awake and in a good mood, my mum makes me do various exercises! Some of them I like a lot, others not at all -I guess it's a question of taste! But my mum is a testa dura and insists on making me do even the exercises I don't like -over and over again!
The reason for all these exercises is that I tend to keep my head to the left (it wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact that my parents are rather left-winged, what do you think?). My parents thought it was all rather sweet -that I had my favourite position while sleeping in bed. But my doctor noticed this immediately and said that if this trend wasn't corrected soon I risked getting torcicollis...and I wouldn't like to have something with such a terrible name, so I play along...!

But rather than fighting the torcicollis, I prefer imagining that I'm preparing for the olympics in 2024...it is much more motivating for a young boy! My mum read recently that Denmark is planning to apply for the Olympics in 2024, and as the danes are sometimes considered to be the italians of scandinavia I believe I would be very much at home there!!

But should I compete for Iceland or Italy?

Give me the real thing - please !

I know I don't have great experience of the world, but one thing is sure...

I DON'T LIKE FAKE THINGS !

Last week my parents made an attempt to fool me, and put some of my mum's milk in a bottle and tried to feed me! I don't know what made them think I would accept it, but for curiosity's sake I drank a little bit -just to see what it was like, and boy it sucked (..and I didn't!!). It tasted plastic! In the end I refuted to drink the milk and waited patiently until I was offered the real thing, and then I drank as if I was being offered the last drops of milk on earth! My parents were a bit sad, for my they were planning to give my mum a "feeding-break" once in a while and allow my dad to feed me, but I will be difficult to convince!!

If this is not enough, then my parents did a second atempt to fool me! They had decided not to give me the "pacifier", but then after I had pulled on my mum's nipples once too often one evening she went and bought one to keep in case of an "emergency"! Then one day when I was a little bit nervous and my mum's nipples were becoming a bit soar she decided to try to use it. First try: I spit it out. Second try, I spit it out -it might be made of real cauccio, but who cares, it doesn't compare to the milk-tank bottons I'm used to! In the end my mum tried to keep the pacifier in my mouth for a minute, and to try to please her I started to suck on it, but it created a vacum in my stomach and finally when I managed to spit this horrible thing out of my mouth it pulled out the contents of my stomach (a lot of fresh milk) -in other words, I vomited all over myself..and my mum! That should teach them not to try to fool me in the future!

I don't know which other tricks my parents are planning to play on me...but be alert...I'm not so easily fooled!

I'm back!!!

Is there still someone out there that reads this blog?

Well, time is passing and I haven’t really been good at updating you on my adventures as promised, it’s more than a month since the last blog, I’m 6 weeks old now and there is A LOT to tell. If I tell you that my excuse is that I’ve been extremely busy you might not believe me –a newborn baby doesn’t do much more than drink milk, sleep and cause an ecological disaster by filling diaper after diaper of waste-material. But all of these things do take time, and I’ve used it quite well, for I’m already well over 5 kg and the clothes I wore as a newborn no longer fit me!

But how have I passed this time? Quite well I’d say. It’s been a learning time both for me and for my parents –and I learn very quickly.

One of the first things that I learnt was that if I used my vocal cords it draws the attention of my parents.

If I use the vocal cords at a low volume and intensity, my parents will come to my crib, look at me and see if all is ok. Sometimes they even stand behind the crib, thinking that I can’t see them (but I do see them from the corner of my eyes) and check on me –they want to be sure to know that I’m ok. This way I also check that they’re still around and that they are alert on my well-being.

If I use my vocal cords at a higher volume my parents will come up to the crib, maybe even touch me or babble something incomprehensible and if I put the tone even higher they will pick me up from the crib and carry me around for some time –now that’s fun :)

If I then continue using the vocal cords at a high tone my mum will pull out one of her milk-tanks and feed me. This was a very useful thing to learn!

In the beginning, when I was learning how the milk-tank-thingy worked I could even call for the milk-tank every hour!!! That was great!!
cry->milk->rest, cry->milk-> rest- and so on…
but my mum had an exhausted face in the end…and well, my stomach could only take so much milk, so I decided to change technique and started to pass longer time feeding and then take a good rest in between…in this phase I would hang on to the milk-tank even for hours! sucking every now and again. That was extremely convenient for me, for if I was thirsty the product was at hand -but my mum complained that I was mutilating her nipples and I could see pain in her eyes every time I attached to the milk-tank. Well, and honestly, hanging on to the milk-tank forever is only fun for so long…so once again I decided to change the technique and started to drink more efficiently and regularly. This is working well both for me and for my mum who makes sure to smile to me every time I attach to the milk-tanks!

Another important lesson was to recognize my parents. This was not difficult at all! My mum is the lady with the milk tank, the one that comes running when I use my vocal cords at a high intensity. She speaks Icelandic to me, makes funny faces (and noises) and sings a lot for me –I kind of like it even if often she is completely out of tune and I suspect that she makes up the lyrics as she goes along…for suspiciously many of the songs are about a young boy named Oscar!! My mum is also the person that is responsible for my gymnastics (I’ll tell you about that later). My dad is the guy that during the first few weeks of my life stepped in after I had fed on the milk-tanks, and he was the major diaper-changer the first 3 weeks of my life. He is great! He carries me around and speaks to me (in italian of course) with a voice that is so calming and relaxing that I don’t understand why they don’t bottle it and sell it for peace-purposes around the world!!! I can’t resist and fall asleep most of the time when I’m in my dad’s arms. When I was 3 weeks old my dad started working again –he has even passed some days in Austria and one week in France lately, so I’ve seen less of him than before, but it just means that I’m even happier when he’s around J

Before I finish this blog-session I must touch on an argument that a lot of people, well, everyone that has seen me so far, talks about: whom do I look like!

My family in Iceland says that I look like my mum when she was newborn (or even like my maternal grand-dad), for despite her now blond looks, she had black hair (and a lot of it) when she was born and her face was quite similar to mine. But my family in Tuscany says that I also look like my dad when he was newborn –for his facial features (including the now prominent nose) were much more like mine when he was a toddle.

So I’m supposed to look like both my parents…how on earth is that possible? Am I supposed to believe that two people like my parents, that are so different from each other today, were so similar when they were newborn!!! Come on!!! But then some people say that I just look very much like myself, and I like that. Then time will just tell how I develop –towards my Viking- or Etruscan-roots! Or maybe I’ll just continue to be a mix!!

Well, it’s feeding time for me now, so I better stop writing…but I promise to come by more often and update you on my adventures. I still haven’t told you about my gymnastics, all the controls that I’ve done, and well, about life in general!

Big hugs to all of you…well, and remember to check on my photos, my parents are quite good at updating them… adios

Photos

Hello Everyone
My parents have put some photos of me on a website: http://rut-valgardsdottir.magix.net/
Look for an album called OSCAR (on the left site of the page) and you can see some of my fabulous expressions. My parents will try to update this site once in a while to let you see the development of my features.
Big hugs, Oscar

My birth

I've been planning for some time to tell you about my first few days, but my life has been very busy lately, with the breastfeeding, sleeping and learning to know my parents, so there has been little time left for blogging!
Anyway, as you already know, I was born on the 29th of december 2006 -more precisely at 11.41 in the morning. The birth was not exactly as I had planned it, for as you may remember I had been in the breech position for almost 2 months -despite moxa for one month and an attempt to turn me with ECV.
Rather than calling it breech position I like to call it the divers position! Or if you prefer a more technical term: the reverse pike position. In case of the diver, this position lasts only a fraction of a second, but in my case I kept it for a couple of months, imagining that I was flying through the air, towards the surface of the water in the swimming-pool.
When the diver approaches the surface of the water he should keep his legs extended upward while straightening his torso and pointing his head straight down towards the water, then swinging his arms with the whole body so they remain over the head and end up pointing towards the water before entering the water in a vertical position. And this is exactly what I had planned to do, in due time!!! But a week before the due date, my parents went to the hospital where again the doctors tried to convince me to turn doing another attempt to do the ECV. This time there were 2 doctors, pushing my mum's belly hoping that I would give in...but I didn't realize how close I was to the water, so I preferred to remain breech!
What happened next was beyond my control. My mum was brought into the blocco parto where women go to deliver the babies, and she was prepared for the birth. The atmosphere was really relaxing, and as the doctor injected the anastetics in my mum's spine, she was laughing and joking with a group of midwifes. Once the anestetics had started to work, everything went really quickly, Dr. Angela Iasci cut the skin of my mum, pushed away membranes and muscles, cut the uterus and in less than two minutes I was out of the belly! What a shock. I started crying the moment I was out, and got an immediate AGPAR score of 10.
So how was the birth for my parents? My mum was present, obviously, and was lead through the operation by 2 doctors that explained everything that happened. It was like having a nice chat with old friends. When the uterus had been cut my mum was asked if she wanted to see my birth... she wouldn't have missed it for the life! The sheets that blocked my mum's view of the operation were removed for a moment and she could see me being pulled out of her belly, at the same time she could feel a suction feeling as her belly was emptied. She immediately started crying of happiness, and when, a moment later I got to touch her face, she was still crying.
My dad was not allowed to be present during the operation, but he got to see me very soon. One of the midwifes was equipped with a polaroid camera, and the moment I was out of my mum's belly she snapped a photo of me and brought it immediately to my dad who saw the photo delveope before his eyes. To see me materialize on the polaroid sheet was almost as if he was seeing me being born! A moment later the midwife brought another photo to my dad, this time of me touching my mum's face. Shortly after I was rolled passed my dad as I was brought to the neonatologia. At that time he was exploding with pride.
After the operation was finished, my mum was kept under observation for an hour before being rolled into her room where she and my dad stayed for a couple of hours waiting to see me.
I don't know who was more emotional, me or them when we finally got to see each other. My parents kissed me and hugged me and explored my face and features trying to understand who I'm looking like and they told me in million ways how much they loved me. I was offered my mum's breast immediately and started sucking right away, even if there was nothing to have the first time. This was soon to change, and already the second time I was breastfed the colostrum had arrived. Less than three days later, on the magical first night of the year, the milk finally arrived, and my breakfast, lunch, dinners and snakcs were secured for the months to come!
I celabrated the new year in the hospital with my parents and other neo-parents and newborn babies. The nurses had brought cakes and spumante (on the picture you can see my dad opening the bottle at midnight) and there was a happy little crowd that cheered for the new year and for the health of everyone present. I doubt that my parents will ever have a happier new-year's eve than this.
As I'm healthy and my mum recovered very quickly from the cesarean section, we got to go home from the hospital on the 1st of january. A fantastic way to start a new year.
How things have been since I'm home will have to wait for the next blog, but I can tell you that so far
LIFE IS SIMPLY WONDERFUL

OSCAR IS HOME

Ciao
Just a short notice to let you know that I was born on the 29th of december and that yesterday I came home for the first time. I will tell you more about my adventures later, but now I'm just extremely sleepy (having drunk A LOT of milk) and prefer to take a nap.
My year 2007 has started in the best way possible...coming home with my mum and my dad and I'm looking forward to whatever this year will bring me.
Finally I just want to wish you all a happy new year and I hope to see you soon.
Big hugs, Oscar Polselli

Merry Christmas

It's Christmas...! Of course I have no idea what Christmas is, but I sense that it's something very special. My parents have been all busy buying things, making sweets, preparing a menu and putting beautiful lights in our house. They didn't make the traditional presepe like many italians do for christmas, but my dad says that we have our own little presepe, where he plays the donkey, the bull and Jospeh, my mum is Mary and he says that even I have my part in the scene.
Or maybe the decoration of the house and all this planning is because my arrival is to happen in only few days from now! It's not exactly what I had planned, but since I insist on staying head-up my parents tell me it's the only solution. Actually they made a last attempt to get me to turn last week. My mum announced it to me last tuesday, gave me a last chance to turn by myself or else she would have to use force. I had no intention to turn, so that night I just slept as normal, kicked her uterus a lot and did the amniotic rhumba as never before. Then next morning my mum skipped breakfast and went straight to the hospital with my dad. First I thought that it was this not-eating thing that was supposed to get me to turn, for the hours passed by and nothing else happened. But she could just as well have fasted at home, so there had to be another reason. My mum gets quite irritated when she doesn't eat for a long time, and I could feel that she was not very calm that morning. Was that how she was going to get me to turn? But then she started to use the relaxing exercises that she had learnt in the prenatal class, and that improved her state of mind a lot. Finally around 3 o'clock in the afternoon the moment that my mum had been waiting for arrived (it appeared that there had been several emergencies at the hospital that delayed everything for many hours). At that moment my mum was actually hungry like a wolf and her mouth was drier than the desert of Sahara, but she was ready for whatever was to come. She entered the examination room and a doctor examined the way I am lying with an ultrasound and saw that I was still in the divers position (a complete breech)...he sighed! Then he estimated my size and said that I was about 2850 g....and he gave another sigh, said that I was a bit big. Then he measured the liquid around me and a third sigh could be heard..he said that the amount of it wouldnt help! But early in the morning the liquid had been plenty when they did the ultrasound! Maybe they should have let my mum drink something during the day...if it doesn't rain the lake will become dry! Anyway, after this examination, the doctor started to push and squeeze my mum's belly with great force. First he pushed my bottom, then he made sure to know where my head was (using the ultrasound) and started trying to push the head first to one side and when he didn't manage, he tried to push it to the other side, but there is more resistence in me than one would expect of a small boy, so he got nowhere with all this pushing. In the end the doctor was so tired that he had to make a break before continuing. To make a long story short, the doctor made several attempts to get me to turn, but I didn't move. There seems to be some kind of resistency....! So now my parents are planning something called a cesarean section to pull me out from my comfortable nest. My mum is not happy about it, she would have preferred a natural birth, but she has also started to accept the fact that I'm not turning and that modern doctors are no longer skilled in delivering breech babies and therefore a cesarean has to be planned, so she has had to surrender. Now my parents are passing the days in a sort of an emotional limbo. On one side they are extremely happy that I will soon be there with them, and on the other side the imminentness of the event causes them to think what it will be like when I'm there and if they will handle the new role. They think about whether I'm ok and if the cesarean will go ok and there are millions of other related thoughts that fly around in their heads. It seems also strange to them to know that I will be born on a certain day, rather than them having to wait for the signs of my arrival before going to the hospital. Anyway, this will probably be my last blog as a belly-dweller...but I hope that I will soon be back as a newborn boy...therefore I'll use this opportunity to send you christmas-greetings...

Merry Christmas to all of you, and a Happy New Year.

Prova generale

Last night my parents had a little trial for day X -with only three weeks to the due date I guess it was a wise thing to do. The results of the trial was that my dad passed with honours, but my panettone-mum (see picture) has to refine her part a bit before the big moment!
Well, last night my mum got a shooting pain in the fundus of the uterus (or somewhere close to it at least). She knew it wasn't a contraction, for they don't create constant pain, but not knowing what it was that caused the pain, and not being able to do simple things such as lie on the side, stand up from the bed, close the door of the car or even wipe herself at the toilet (!), she and my dad decided it would be right to have someone take a look. So they went to the gynecology & obstetrics-ER at the hospital -which is basically where I'm going to be born quite soon. The midwifes monitored me with a cardiotocograph and found out that I'm very well, then they did an ultrasound and saw that all was ok and so my mum was sent home with the words that whatever it was that caused the pain it didn't seem to have any negative effects on the pregnancy. Actually the midwife that monitored me thought that my heartbeat could be heard a bit low in the abdomen for a podalic baby, so when it came to the ultrasound part she, the other 2 midwives present and my dad betted on whether I was still podalic (the theory being that the pain that my mum was experiencing might be related to the fact that I had finally turned). But I'm more stubborn than that, and of course I was still podalic!
My mum thinks that the pain might be related with the fact that at the prenatal course earlier that day, the mums were practicing active pushing for the birth, and maybe she pushed a little too hard with slightly wrong muscles..! Anyway, after a rather sleepless night, my mum is now up and feels much better than yesterday (which makes her happy, for she was planning to make Sarah Bernhard's cookies today) and both she and my dad are happy that they've had this little prova generale of going to the hospital. As I said before my dad passed the test without problems, but my mum didn't...she managed to forget to take her pregnancy-history with her (she took an empty backpack -leaving the pregnancy folder on the kitchen table!!). But it serves her as a reminder for day X.

Speculations

Do you recognize this little baby? No-no, it's not me, I'm not born yet -and technology still doesn't allow this kind of photographing of an unborn baby...! Plus, as you may see, this little baby is dressed..! But I thought of showing you this picture to redirect all speculations about how I look -towards something plausible!
One of the most frequent comments that people make these days is that I will most certainly look like my mum, as it seems to be a common belief that whereas sons look like their mothers, daughters look like their fathers (despite millions of exceptions that people see every day). Soon another comment follows -that since I must look like my mum I'm bound to look like a true viking, with blond hair and blue eyes! Well, I don't know what genetics say about this mother-son look-a-like thing, for all that I know I might just as well look like my father! But one thing is sure that if I'm to look like my mum when she was newborn, I wont be blond-blue-eyed at all! Yes you've got it, that black-haired, black-eyed mini-troll on the picture is my mum -she only turned blond about the age of 2!
On the other hand, if I'm to look like an italian child, it is highly plausible that I will be blond at birth! Believe it or not that most babies that my mum sees being walked around Pavia in strollers seem to be blond with blue eyes...and not because there has been an invasion of barbars (like my mum..!) in Pavia, but because as my mum turned blond at the age of two, these italian cuties turn dark-haired around that age. I can't begin to imagine what nature had in mind when this was programmed into our genes, but it sure puts a lot of uncertainty into the speculations of how I look! My parents, who are also curious about how I look (and soon enough they will find out) just hope that I won't be a mosaic, or striped or something...!

The suitcase

My mum has only been pregnant in Italy and, therefore, doesn't know if being pregnant in Italy is like being pregnant somewhere else. But one thing she is sure about is that the preparation of the suitcase for the hospital is very different from what it is like in Iceland. On the website of the University hospital in Iceland, there is a list of things that mothers to be are advised to take with them: toiletries, indoor-shoos and comfortable clothes, change for the automates, some snack, cell-phone, lip-balm, drinks, something to read, nice music, camera. Basically things that the mums can throw together in a small bag when the labour starts -so practically they are always ready. More importantly, this is an ADVISE, they can even just pop by without anything, and the father can bring the lip-balm and the book to read once the baby is born.

If only it was that easy in Italy.

As we belly-dwellers don't really announce with great advance when we are going to take that important journey down the birth-channel, mothers in Italy are adviced to be ready with the hospital suitcase at least a month before the due date. It is actually less than month until I'm supposed to be born, but my mother still hasn't prepared her suitcase -the only one at the pre-natal course that hasn't done so! Last week she at least started to prepare things. So what is so difficult?
Well, let's start with the things to prepare for the mother:
1 nightgown (not pyjama..NB) for every day that the mum stays in hospital (in Italy this means 3-5 days if all is ok, and depending on whether the baby was born naturally or with a C-section ). For someone that never wears nightgowns, and that risks to have a C-section because the baby is not turning, this means having to buy 4 nightgowns (to be on the safe-side, then my mum will just throw in pyjamas in case she has to stay more days)!! Of these, 3 have to be buttoned far enough down to permit breastfeeding without having to undress and the last one has to be buttoned all the way down in the front, for this one has to be worn during the birth. I know that italians care a lot about the way the look in any moment, and they don't like to look like the person next-door (or next-bed), but would it be too much to ask the hospital to provide the gown for the birth??? At the prenatal course the mums laughed a lot of the fact that the hospital specified that the nightgowns should NOT BE TRANSPARENT! But I don't know where all these ladies went to buy this particular nightgown, for then when my mum started going around looking for one, she was shown a transparent (not completely, but one that left little to the imagination) fully-buttoned, highly embroidered nightgown specially made for birth in THREE stores! Finally she had one store order a nightgown of a thicker material so that she wouldn't be going around the hospital half-naked and offending the hospital rules while preparing for birth. The other 3 nightgowns were not less of a challange, for nightgowns in italy, those buttoned in the front (as opposed to all the sexy silk and satin dresses) are normally made for a clientale of around 80 years, that seem to prefer flowers and pastel colours. My mum was aware of the fact that she was going to buy something that probably she would wear only one day..but the thought of being dressed like an 80-year old was too oppressing, so she and my dad made a whole-day trip around the stores of Arezzo to find suitable nightgowns. In the end they found 3 that were acceptable, no flowers or pastel colours. In addition a warm dressing-gown is needed, so my mum bought one of these. She had the choice between a pink one and a blue one and -prefering something more colourful but not being able to find one- she chose the blue one, which immediately caused the shop assistant to comment:

Oh che bello, so you are expecting a boy?

Now what has my gender got to do with the way my mum wants to dress? Is there a hidden dress-code depending on the belly-dweller's sex? Are there more ways in which my mum can be wrong in the way she is doing things?
Anyway, now my parents could tick the nightgowns off the list, then what's next: single-use pants (yeah, the hospital does not provide you with these things), post-birth absorbents, breastfeeding bras and pads to absorb excessive milk, toiletries, towel and a bathrobe, toilet paper, indoor shoes AND shower shoes. Then there are the things that recall the Icelandic list: money for the automates, snack, books to read, camera.... Well, my mum can't resist thinking that it would be much easier if they just let the women give birth at home -then they could avoid bringing their home to the hospital. Actually my mum was surprised to find out that the hospital WILL be providing bed-sheets, now considering everything else that has to be brought this is almost incredible.
Do you think that the list is finished... not at all, this was only the mum's part of the list, then there's also the list of things that are needed for ME.

For the newborn baby one has to bring clothes for 3-5 days (at least one change a day), including underwear, pyjama or sweaters and trousers, a cap (that also covers the ears) and a blanket. And a set of clothes of course for bringing the baby home. Oh, and as the hospital is rather cold (they don't save enough on the things that they don't provide for the mums and the babies, so they also have to save on the heating), this has to be made of wool. Then the mothers are advised to bring also something to protect the bed from getting wet during the change of the baby (for, as you might guess, they have to change their babies on the bed)...probably because the hospital only provides one set of bed-sheet for the whole hospital staying (maybe my mum should consider bringing her own bed-sheets also, just in case...!). Of these things, my parents have only got the underwear ready (well, and the orange blanket...), but probably this weekend they will go shopping for the remaining things, so the suitcase should be ready soon. Just as good, for the clock is ticking....

crazy anyway

I guess I have to take my mum's words for it -that she and my dad haven't become additcted to some drugs. But I still have my doubts. At least my parent's behaviour isn't always as one would expect from 2 grown-ups! Take last friday night as an example. My parents were in Arezzo with my grandparents, the weather was cold (around 5 degrees and extremely humid: ergo, senzation of cold as if it was at 0 degrees), and it was late in the evening (around 11). And what do they do? Go to the cinema? Fall asleep in front of the TV? Read a good book in bed? Nothing of that sort...well, once again they sneak out into a garage (this time an open one, with no doors), without socks, and not exactly dressed for outdoor activities in late november. Soon after they get outside I start to hear a rythmic sound, as if someone was step-dancing, but then I realized that it was just the sound of my mum's teeth that where shaking from cold!! Once in the garage my mum lies down on a sun-chair then they start to burn this herb close to my mum's toes. You think that's normal? And they say they are doing it for me...! Well, do they really expect me to turn when they behave like this? They are more likely to catch a heavy cold or even pnemonia, than getting me to turn...!
Another confirmation that my mum's head isn't eaxactly where it should be, is the way she's dressing. Here's a photo my dad took last weekend down in Tuscany of my mum and her panettone-belly. Doesn't it look as if my mum was completely unaware of her growing belly when she dressed that morning? Don't get me wrong, the sweater is beautiful -just as long as it's kept unbuttoned...but worn like this it looks as if I was trying to sneak out from under the sweater -the only thing missing is my hand, waving from the gap between the sweater and the trousers!!!
This has made me seriously worried for the fact that my mum will be responsible for dressing ME for the first few years of my life. And here is where my third concern comes in. Remember that she has used a whole year's production of argentinan wool to make me strange sweaters? Now she has added a blanket to the collection. An ORANGE blanket!!! What effect will that have on my sleep in the future? She claims it is the colour of spirituality and that it will have good effect on me and my sleep. I don't know where she has that information from. Maybe she wants me to become a little buddah!!!
Or maybe she really should start eating chocolate again.......

Drug addicts...no Moxa!

Your pleads are not helping at all, my mum has been really strong-minded and has stayed away from sweets and other schifezze as if they were toxic. A part from a wonderful chocolate-cake and a chestnut-sausage she had when she went out for dinner on my parents anniversary she has stayed at large. But I'm sure she's gaining weight anyway, for I'm becoming bigger every day.
Anyway, this time I was not going to blog about my chocolate-deprivation but about the fact that I'm seriously worried about my parents.

I think they've become drug-addicts!!!!

You may think I'm crazy, but hear now. Every day my parents sneak into the garage and stay there for 15 minutes-half an hour. Only once they've been there early in the morning (but it was freezing cold so they gave up), sometimes in the afternoon, but most of the time it's late in the evening. Soon after they enter I start to smell something, I'm not sure what it is, but I think it might be some herbs they are burning -or smoking or whatever! They go on for some time, and don't stop even if I try to contest by kicking and turning and waving my arms (my movements even seem to amuse them..! That's which state they're in). I don't know what to do to stop them. Don't they know that drugs are a serious business, and when you are pregnant one should absolutely stay away from drugs, smoke and alcohol...they are much worse for the health of all the XY's and XX's (and any other combination of chromosomes) than chocolate! Someone has to give a serious lesson to my parents to get them to stop....

Hi, I'm XYs mother, and I'm afraid that even if this is XY's blogspot where he normally gets to say what he wants, I have to stop his writing and intervene at once. Not because he is revealing some secrets -me and his dad have NOT become drug addicts -but to explain what this is all about, to clear all doubts that he may have raised in your minds.
So for the facts, it is true that we go into the garage every day (not sneaking though), it is true that we are burning some herbs (not smoking it) and it is true that we are happy when it results in XY moving a lot...and that's the whole point!!! As XY still remains breech (or lying on the side when it pleases him...but he is never head-down) and although we know that many babies turn spontanelously before birth, we wanted to attempt whatever is possible to get him to turn. When the teacher at the pre-natal course suggested that we tried traditional chinese medicine we thought, why not (my chinese friends -an their newborn XY will be happy to know)! So we went to an acupuncturist that tought us to practice moxibustion. Moxa is the herb known as mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris). It is formed into a long stick that resembles a cigar when lit. The smouldering ends of the moxa-roll is held on either side of the acupuncture point ub67, located close to the nail point of each little toe. This is maintained for 15 minutes (switching foot when the toes become unbearably warm), once or twice a day. We were rather sceptical of this treatment, but the effect is incredible, XY starts to move soon after we start the treatment and continues for a long time afterwards. Still it hasn't resulted in him turning his head down, but we've only been doing this for some days...maybe it will work...or maybe there is something (short umbilical cord e.g.) that makes it difficult or impossible for him to turn. There is always the plan B -external cephalic version that we have booked just before christmas, or plan C -cesarean section, in case the moxa doesn't work...or if he doesn't just turn around by himself..!
You may be thinking, ok, that explains...but why the hell in the garage? Well, I invite you to burn a Moxa-roll for 15 minutes in a 35 square meter flat, once a day for several days. Even vacuum-packed food in the kitchen-closet will be smelling of moxa (as indeed is everything in the garage is by now!).
So rather than telling me to go on eating chocolate (and by the way..the last time I tasted Hersey's chocolate I SPIT IT OUT and threw the rest of the block...I only go for the good stuff you know) try to convince XY to turn....!

The food of the Gods

I’m going to be brief now, but I just thought of asking you to appeal to my mum not to stop eating chocolate! Remind her that chocolate is a girl’s best friend, and that it contains many healthy ingreadients that are important for an unborn baby! Last time my mum went to have a control, her doctor was about to faint (she’s a very sensitive lady) for the fact that my mum had put on too much weight the last month (3 kg). As my mum doesn’t have a scale at home, she had no idea, and was blissfully ignorant of the excessive weightgaining. She thought that it was only the belly that was growing, and not the fat-storages! The doctor interrogated my mum, asking if she had been indulging too much in chocolate, but my mum bluntly said “no way” and sustained that her consumption of the forbidden sweet had been very moderate lately. When my parents were out of the doctor’s office my dad (who had remained silent during the visit….with a smirky smile on his face) reminded my mum of

• the chocolate fondue that they’d had only few days earlier,
• the rest of the 500g chocolate block used for the fondue that had disappeared from the kitchen a few days later,
• the gianduia that they had got at Bologna and had disappeared very soon after,
• the Nesquick that finds it’s way into the milk that my mum drinks every afternoon to strenghten my bones….

and so he went on for some time (being an engineer, my dad is a very precise person), making my mum blush of shame...! In the end she realized that in fact, she might have gone slightly over the limits of what could be considered a healthy chocolate-intake lately. And as my mum has difficulty following moderate lines of chocolate intake, she decided to cut it out completely, at least until christmas (or until she makes the Sara Bernhard’s biscuits..whichever comes first). Last week, e.g. at the pregnancy-course, she was the only mum eating an apple during the coffee-break, whereas the other mum’s nibbled chocolate and sweet biscuits….! The only problem is that me, XY Sergioson, has grown to like that sweet taste of chocolate so much, and now that my mum no longer eats it, I miss it….! A lot! So please tell my mum to restart eating chocolate, or I will stay breech until the birth…!

One, two, breech...

Last week my mum went to have an ultrasound -the last of three that are scheduled in a normal pregnancy in Italy. It is called the “growth” ultrasound, because it mainly serves to check whether the belly-dweller is growing well (and I am…I’m following the normal growth-curve). Actually my parents were also looking forward to have a look at me, and in order to make them happy I decided to do something very special. At 32 weeks 85% of all belly-dwellers are turning their heads down and they keep hands and feet crossed, but that’s not original enough for me. Unfortunately I’m too big to be able to have my whole-body-ultraound-picture taken, so you’ll have to take my words for what I did.

Well, imagine someone, e.g. Alexandre Despatie that is going to do a simple reverse pike from a 3m springboard. He would start the dive with a normal forward approach where he swings his arms forward and over his head as he jumps on the board to gain extra momentum. Once of the board he lifts his legs up into the air until they point straight up, perpendicular to the water. He bends the waist and reaches forward to touch his toes with the fingertips. If you are following the sequence in your mind you will realize that his buttocks are now in the lowest point. What should follow now is that the diver should keep his legs extended upward while straightening his torso and point his head straight down toward the water, then swinging his arms with the whole body so they remain over the head and end up pointing toward the water before entering the water in a vertical position. But I want you to stop the image before, while the diver is bent over his legs with the buttocks as the lowest point, in what is called the reverse pike position. This position lasts only a fraction of a second, and it may seem very easy to do, but actually it takes years of practice to perfect and only the very best can do it flawlessly. I think it’s elegantly simple and beautiful -and for that reason this is the position I chose to show to my parents!
I looked rather graceful if I may say so myself (I even stretched out the toes for absolute perfection), but rather than hearing the cheering from my parents and the doctor, the first comment was: Ah..he’s in a breech position! Which means that I got the butt down! Well, how can you imitate a crucial moment of a gold winning diving performace and still keep your head down?

But there was no way they could concentrate on my skills and elegance, and the doctor even started talking about the necessity of a ceserean birth if I didn’t turn before the end of the pregnancy. Silly! My mum, my dad, well, everyone seemed to be a bit worried. Maybe they missed the fact that 2/3^rd of all belly-dwellers that are in a breech position at 32 weeks turn before the estimated due date.

Anyway, the next morning my mum went to her monthly appointment with the gynecologist and the midwife, both of which were equally worried about my breech position. One of the things that is normally done at these appointments is to measure my heart-beat. The midwife started looking with the probe for my heartbeat, but she couldn’t find it. After a few minutes of letting the probe slide on the gelly on my mum’s stomach she gave up, and the gyncologist took over. She pushed and moved, and added half a bottle of gel on my mum’s belly but nothing worked…they just didn’t manage to find my heartbeat. With a suspicious look on her face, the doctor started squeezing the skin on my mums belly between her fingers, checking if the underlying fat-layer had become so thick and solid that my heartbeat didn’t pass through! I don’t know which conclusion she came to, but at least she kept searching. I started kicking my mums belly from the inside trying to let them understand that they were actually looking for the heartbeat in the wrong place…something which took them more than 5 minutes to realize by themselves! Finally they found it…but not on the side of my mum’s belly where it was expected to be (based on the ultrasound the day before) but on the lower part of the belly, as I had actually turned during the night and was lying on the side, i.e. with the head to one side! Since then I have turned many times (indicating that there is still a lot of space for me to move). My mum realizes this both because she has the sensation that there is a centrifuge in her stomach when I turn, and also because she can feel the kicks on the left side of the belly one moment, then on the lower part of the belly, then on the right side, and so on. I still haven’t fixed myself with head down (why should I when it’s so much fun to turn around and well, there is still a lot of time left…isn't there?). Who knows if I will turn to the head-first position before day X! In case I don’t turn, my mum has booked a “external cephalic version” at the hospital some days before christmas! This means that the doctor (with the help of ultrasound) will intervene from the outside, turning me to the right position in order to try to avoid a cesarean birth! In addition, my mum is going to start to do all kinds of turn-the-baby-exercises to try to convince me to turn. But let’s see who is more stubborn in the end, me or my mum!

La pancia

I had promised you a new picture of my mum, and here it is. I’m 31 weeks old now, and although you cannot really see me, then you can see that I’m growing (compare this picture to the one in the blog from a few weeks back) -I’m the one pressing out my mum’s green t-shirt –and her belly! Maybe I should have put here also a picture of my dad’s belly to show you how in shape he is at the moment (running, swimming and doing abdominals has given him his youthful look back). The experts say that this is one of the paternal effects of expecting a baby-boy!! The dads start to keep in shape so that they can beat their sons in football..at least the first few years! But with my fantastic kick (read last blog) there is no doubt that no matter how much he trains I will be the one to beat the old one in football!

The pregnancy seems to be going quite well, at least my mum is very well, and next week when she has her medical controls and the last scheduled ultrasound, she will know if even me is as well. It’s only about 2 months now until the predicted date for my arrival –and if I’m anything like my dad I might even decide to arrive a month earlier than predicted, so there is not much time left. As you could see in the last blog then my parents have started to prepare for my arrival a little bit. They have not prepared a room for me -for if I was to have a room for myself then my parents would either have to sleep in the kitchen or in the garage, but they have bought the first few things that I need. In addition to the travel-trio they've also bought me a bed (and my mum has finished the 6^th sweater!!). They still need to buy a few more things, but these can be bought with calm in the next two months. Then they’ve started to try to imagine how it will be when I arrive, and what I’ll be like!

It’s difficult to predict my looks and character before I arrive (although there's a lot of speculations) -but people start to remind my parents to enjoy the last few months of calm before the thunderstorm (me!!) arrives…! and to enjoy the good night sleep before the onset of the period of sleepless nights. Obviously the second comment comes only from those who haven’t been pregnant, for although I’m not there to wake my parents up with crying and hunger in the night, there’s a lot of things that keep (particularly my mum) awake at night. I believe it’s one of the best kept secrets of pregnancy that the mum’s-to-be don’t get a good night sleep for months…for various reasons. I'll list here a few of the reasons for why my mum has not slept through a whole night since maybe june/july:

• The necessity to go to the bathroom at least once during the night -even if my mum tries not to drink anything for the last few hours before going to sleep it doesn't help...
  
• Leg cramps -now WHAT is that!! Why do pregnant women get cramps in the legs during night…and why not cramps somewhere else? My mum has found out that she mainly gets these cramps when she hasn’t been swimming or walking a lot during the day, but they don’t really make any sense! Sometimes the cramps are so painful that my mum shouts out, waking up my dad -and probably even the next-door neighbours!
  
• Difficulty to turn in bed. Now this is something that is gradually increasing during the pregnancy with the growing belly...my mum wakes up every time she needs to turn in bed
• Blocked nose! The formation of mucous increases during the pregnancy resulting in nose that is often blocked
• My movements...!
  
• Strange dreams! My mum has always had very vivid ad realistic dreams, but this has increased a lot during the pregnancy

This is not a conclusive list, there are other things as well, but it's enough that one of these things wakes up my mum and then she can stay awake even for hours, thinking about all kinds of things related to my arrival -we could call it a mid-night-meditation about XY Sergioson, or about work, or the future or whatever! But in the end she doesn't really mind...she takes it as a normal part of the pregnancy, and maybe as a training before I'll start waking her up with crying and hunger...! For once I'm around she will probably look back with nostalgia to these months of easy insomnia...!

Making a viking...!

Winter arrived to Pavia yesterday. Just like that! Until early evening there was a great autumn weather with 20 degrees and sunshine (and not even ONE mosquito around)…as it has been more or less for weeks now! As it was a holiday in Italy, my parents used the opportunity and went for a long walk in the Vernavola park in Pavia, much to my pleasure. Then came the evening and suddenly we had a strong wind blowing from the Siberian-plain (I think, or maybe it was blowing from Iceland)…! At least the temperature dropped dramatically in a short time and today is a fresh winter day. The weather is still beautiful -it’s even one of these days when you can see the Alps from Pavia- and my mum feels a bit like home! My parents just hope that it’s not going to be a typical Pavian winter, with fog and rain evey day. Especially not after I’m born, for my mum is planning to take me out for long walks in the equipment she and my dad just bought for me! Well, they actually bought me a trio (the one you can see on the picture), which is an all-in-one solution, a stroller, a car-seat (that can be attached to the frame and used as a stroller when I’m newborn, and it can even be used as a rocking-chair at home) and a carrycot (that can also be attached to the frame and used for transport while I'm tiny and as a crib for the first few weeks!). I don’t know if any of these items are going to be as comfortable as my current transport system, but at least I believe that I’ll be able to stretch a bit more than I can do now! My space has really started to be limited, and it happens that when I want to exercise, my kicks are so powerful that my mum can see her belly moving…! The other day I even lifted a heavy 400 page pregnancy-book that my mum was reading with my kick…!

Anyway, back to the long walks that my mum is planning to take me on after I’m born. Well, in Iceland, it’s a tradition to let the babies sleep outside from the time they are born, i.e. the babies are put in the carrier and left outside (on the balcony, in the garden or outside the front door if there are no other places available) where they sleep for an hour or so in the beginning, and then the time is gradually increased. It is not adviceble to sleep outsied if it’s more than -10°C cold, if there is a blowing wind and it’s snowing heavily, or if it is strikingly hot (in iceland THAT is rare), but in general this is the way icelandic babies pass their afternoons. My mum says that this is the way a viking is made! But here in Italy this is an unkown phenomenon (even my dad had never heard of such a thing and has a hard time believing it), and considering that the winters here are extremily humid, there is a lot more pollution compared to iceland, the summers are terribly hot, and baby-thefts occur once in a while, oh and not to mention the shocking effect it would have on people to know that my parents let me sleep outside –then my mum has abandoned the idea of letting me sleep outside –instead she is planning to take me out on long walks…! For she wants me to become at least a partial-viking if possible!

Knitting....

Vow, has there really passed so long time since my last blog? And how fast it has passed...!
I mainly blame my absence from the cyberworld on my mum who never finds time to write for me (it's difficult to manage a keyboard and, let's be honest, a computer, when you're still in your mum's womb!).
A part from still working as before, going swimming and walking with my dad and doing all the things that one has to do: cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, shopping..etc, the last month and a half my mum has filled her extra time with the good-housewife business of making sweaters for me. At the moment she is about to finish sweater number 6, and I must say that her production is worrying me quite a bit! And it's not because I don't like the idea of wearing home-made sweaters in this world of extreme focusing on designer-brands and fashion...!
The main reason is that my mum is improvising the knitting, the patterns, the style, and the size -with somewhat strange results at times!! One of the most peculiar things she has made is an acidgreen-fluorescentorange rice-grain-pattern sweater with accidental rugby-shoulders and a cap that would fit a monster-melone!! As regarding to the size of her products -either she is planning the way I'll be dressed for the next couple of years, or she hasn't got a clue as to which size I'll be once I'm out in the real world! The sweaters that she is making range from being so tiny that even my mum is thinking if she should buy me a small teddy-bear that could wear them, to being so big, that they might even fit my father!! There is absolutely no coherence, and I suspect that my mum suffers from an unknown geometrical syndrome that prohibits her from making things the correct size! I think it's time my mum finds herself a new hobby, something to take her mind of knitting before the disaster is complete! Maybe she should just start working on the editing of the 7 hours of videos that she took in Iceland last summer...now there is a job for the next few months for her!!!


Anyway, I'm 30 weeks old now, still growing (at an exponential rate if you ask my mum) and I'm pressing out my mum's belly as if it was made of elastic material. Soon there will be a new photo of her belly-balloon on this site.. but until then...have a great time

The keel...

As my mum's belly keeps growing, her centre of gravity is slowly moving to the belly! This is not yet a problem when she is walking (I say yet as it might get worse as me and the womb continue to grow), -but this change is particularly evident when my mum is swimming free-style in the pool. There the gravity sort of pulls her belly down, giving it a hanging shape (with the result that I feel that I'm floating in free air, which is fantastic). One might think that this causes resistance to her swimming so that she goes slower, or that her belly tends to pull her towards the bottom of the pool where she is forced to swim in apnea - causing the guards to throw themselves in the water trying to save her!!! But no such thing happens! In fact, after her last training in the pool, she was wondering if it was possible that the boat's keel was invented by a pregnant lady all those hundreds of years ago...!!! For, just as the keel gives the ship a greater directional control and stability in water, my mum's growing belly gives her stability and makes her resist to side rocking -she simply swims better! This sensation, added to the weightlessness that one feels in water, makes swimming extremely pleasant for my mum who, mind you, never really liked swimming free-style -but now she's enjoying it a lot!

Maybe my mum could become rich designing swimming costumes (for non-pregnant women), with a hydrodynamic keel* in the belly region!!!

*Orders will be taken on www.keelcostumes.it
once the patent has been obtained and the idea
sold to a big swimsuit-producer