Help! I’m a Fish

I’m not a fish, I’m Dean Newman (to paraphrase Alan Partridge). But it appears that our child to be thinks it is, of sorts. Sarah’s just felt it flipping around that she has described as a sensation not unlike butterflies.

No patterns seem to have been established yet, so it will be interesting to find out if it decides to get a little bit jiggy with it at certain times of the day, if Sarah is sat down or if certain music or adverts seem to set it off…if it’s the latter then please God don’t let it like the ‘Go Compare’ or ‘We Buy Any Car.com’ ads, that wouldn’t be very good at all.

Perhaps I’ll go through our iPods with a set of speakers aimed at Sarah’s stomach until we get a reaction, hey it worked for the FBI during the Waco seige, where they played an eclectic mix of  Tibetan chants, bugle calls, Christmas carols and, er, Nancy Sinatra’s ”These Boots Are Made for Walkin”’, so who knows.

Maybe it is just getting to know its surroundings a little bit or rearranging its temporary room and putting up some new posters or something. Whatever it is doing, with those sensations swirling away inside you can be sure that Alien probably isn’t at the top of my wife’s DVD rental list!

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