I have been laid up with the flu for the last week, and am now chugging back the antibiotics for a chest infection. Fun. Not. Beanlet seems to be well, though.
I did get the opportunity between naps to read the latest Kathy Reichs novel. Although the characters are often a bit two-dimensional, the forensics and anthrolopological roots are strong, and every book of hers I read makes me learn something new and interesting.
The latest book concentrates on the criminal aspects and impacts of Stockholm Syndrome. Something that I was aware of, but not something I'd widely read about. The nice thing about her books is that despite being "airport trash", they at least provoke thought, and a desire to know more about the themes introduced within the story.
What is interesting about this syndrome is that although it is cited primarily in criminal courts, it also has far wider implications for everyday life, as a standard pyschological coping mechanism. I came across this particular article about Stockholm Syndrome in relationships, which was extremely sobering reading, especially as I can identify some traits in people I know, yet am powerless to help.
Last November, I bought an el-cheapo packet of mixed dwarf tulips, and with help from Youcef and Leila, planted them in various tubs around the garden. I have been very pleasantly surprised with the variety and quality of them... so have taken a few pictures. They open up during the day, wide open like in the photos, then at night close up into the classic "tulip shape"; the pale yellow ones have red splotches on the underside of each petal, so look like flames at night when they're closed (sadly by the time they're closed there's not enough light to take a photo of them - doh!)
David and I have been looking into readings for the wedding recently. Whilst I won't divulge secrets like that here, it has meant I have had the opportunity to look at my old poetry and other books from childhood. I used to love poetry (I don't dislike it now, but I just don't read it that often), and learn great tracts of verse, relishing the rhythm of words and the vocabulary.
My favourite book was one published in 1979 called "I Like This Poem", full of classic verse from Pam Ayres through to TS Eliot. The book is well-loved, with pages coming loose and sellotape holding the cover together. One of my favourite poems which I loved reading for its musicallity and sense of atmosphere, was 'Cargoes' by John Masefield. You can almost smell the sooty smoke coming off the British Coaster at the end.
Stately Spanish galleon coming from the isthmus,
dipping through the tropics by the palm-green shores
With a cargo of diamonds,
emeralds, amethysts,
Topazes and cinammon, and gold moidores.
Dirty British coaster with a silt caked smokestack
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, Pig- lead
Firewood iron=ware and cheap tin trays.
I came across these books last night in a heads-up by the inestimable Aaron Swartz. Absolutely fantastic - I must get some for myself; all the better to warp the Beanlet's mind when he/she is older!
We had the 22 week anomaly scan today, and boy was I nervous. With a less-than-straightforward pregnancy so far, and various issues possibly rearing their ugly head, I was sick I was so nervous.
Having drunk a swimming pool worth of water, I headed up to the hospital with David. Luckily we had a different sonographer - I didn't like the previous lady one bit, and I think part of the nervousness was due to that, as well as the "what could go wrong" worries.
The sonographer didn't have that much of a sense of humour, but was very thorough. I could see the screen across the room, David kept an eye on the one next to me. There's definitely a baby in there, and Beanlet was measured within an inch of her/his life. Nosebone, femur, humerous, skull... all present and within normal ranges (although the head circumference is above average - OUCH!). All internal organs present and correct, although this involved a lot of poking around as Beanlet was NOT co-operating, little wriggly-pants!
I think it's a cruel sport making pregnant ladies drink excessive amounts prior to a scan, as the pressure that is put on your bladder by the sonographer, let alone the leprechaun tapdancing on it inside, is really quite close to being embarrassing. Especially during the 22 week scan, as it is quite involved and lengthy. But I held on - just. I do now feel that I've gone 5 rounds with Tyson.
The heart scan was the coolest - the scan was really close-up and in COLOUR - they highlighted the contrast in each chamber with colour pixels, to check that the blood wasn't moving where it shouldn't, and that there was only the proper "hole in the heart" (which closes up when a baby is born), and not anything more sinister. All blood vessels were also present and correct, and really clear on the scan. I got a picture, but it doesn't do the scan detail justice - I wish we'd taken the video camera as that would have been awesome. Doh! Also, I was on my side for most of the heart scan so missed a lot of the detail on that, though I saw enough to amaze me.
And for those of you who want to know already, it's a.........................................
.....................
..................................
...........
...BABY!
We didn't find out, and the sonographer kindly didn't show us, despite Beanlet flashing his/her legs around like nobody's business. It will be a nice surprise!
[PS. For slightly more hi-tech images than a black and grey blur, check out Channel 4 at 9pm on Thursday night (7th April) for some amazing 3d and 4d images of a baby developing in-utero.]
Heard over the train's tannoy at Vauxhall train station this morning...
"This is Vauxhall. Change here for ferry services to the Isle of Wight".