French pregnancy diary part 2

Nine months in Normandy

An emotional wreck: weeks 12-16

• Stand back from the floodgates!
• Getting the all clear
• Reality hits home
• Parisian romance
• All about Sue
• Read the first pregnancy diary instalment

No one warns you about second trimester blues. It started with the anti-climax after the first scan. After we'd emailed the scan pictures to everyone we knew, including people we'd only met a couple of times, I felt a bit flat and depressed - a feeling which didn't go away for some time. Everyone now knew that I was pregnant, but the birth was ages away and I couldn't keep manoeuvring conversation around to my condition. The novelty of it all had passed. Hmmm, hope this doesn't also happen when the baby comes....

At the same time, I was putting on weight but didn't feel blooming or beautiful - just bulky! Bursting into tears in Bebe 9 (a French maternity shop) was probably the next clue to my surging pregnancy hormones! To practise my driving, I reluctantly agreed to drive to Fougeres for a Saturday afternoon's mooch around baby stores, but when Nicholas was critical about my driving I felt as though my world had ended. How could he be so harsh with me - I'm PREGNANT!

After a huffy silence in the car, we made it to Bebe 9 where Nicholas tried to cheer me up by showing me some maternity dungarees. But that was it - my eyes welled up and I wailed, 'I want to look feminine and pretty, not like a sack of potatoes!' Luckily the shop was empty apart from us, and Nicholas rushed me outside before the sales assistant had chance to intervene with polite pleasantries. (The French are so family-focused, they go gah-gah for pregnant women!)

Anyway, the last few weeks have been a bit like that - an emotional roller coaster, although I'm pleased to say most of my tears have been ones of happiness rather than distress! I hadn't realised just how sensitive I'd become until we were watching the English version of Message in a Bottle on Canal Satellite one night. As the film climaxed, the usual tears pricking the corners of my eyes turned into a flood of unstoppable emotion, and the next thing I knew I had sobbed my way through half a kitchen roll and almost to the point of hyperventilating. Nicholas was beside himself with laughter.

Between the tears, at our following check-up at Fougeres Hospital, we found out we had the all clear on Down's - ie there wasn't enough of a risk to have to face the amnio dilemma. This was a good job really, as I'd decided I didn't want one and wasn't sure how well I'd be able to cope if a French doctor tried bullying me into it.

We've now got one more monthly check-up and then the second scan. You have three scans in France, at 12, 22 and 32 weeks. We can ask to know the sex at the next one, but we've chosen not to. A lot of people do here, though, as you have to register the baby's name as soon as it's born. This means you need two full sets of names before you even give birth if you don't know what sex to expect (this gives you a small insight into the nightmare that is French bureaucracy!)

Another good thing is that we've managed to wangle our way onto a semi-private antenatal class with a midwife in Fougeres (midwife is 'sage-femme' in French, which means wise woman - I like that). This means Nicholas can come with me after all, so I don't have to pretend I understand when they say things in French like 'Imagine you're having a pee and need to stop half way through'. If I got the wrong end of the stick, this could lead to untold embarrassment!

Meanwhile, my friend Emma has had a baby girl! We went to see her five weeks after the birth, an experience which was made all the more poignant by the knowledge that we'd have the same end product in a few months. We were moved... and terrified!

Emma lives a few minutes' drive from us and has been a fantastic source of information about the French health system since I found out I was pregnant. Each time I visit her now I take a notebook with me, as I can't take everything in. I've got a short attention span at the best of times, but it's true what they say about pregnancy hormones - I've become very scatty lately. Manifestations of this include asking Nicholas whether he's just seen me take my pregnancy vitamins, as I hold the bottle in my hand looking bewildered.

Anyway, Emma has called the baby Yvette. She's not 100 per cent sure she likes the name, but she was rushed into the final decision when the midwife forced paperwork on her just five minutes after the climax of her 20-hour labour.

The birth was hideous. Emma is an eco-conscious girl and wanted as natural a birth as possible. She now swears blind that if she did it all again, she'd have full sensory deprivation, confirming to me the importance of epidurals. I think, if I'm confused about any question I'm asked in French during the birth process, I will simply nod passionately and say 'Oui!'.

Visiting Emma also raised the tricky question of nappies. Emma has invested a good deal of time and money into researching the most ecological nappy options, and has fixed on the modern version of Terry nappies. Because of where we live, she's had to order everything from a catalogue. This includes back-up biodegradable disposables from Germany. My conscience tells me we need to try a similar approach. Perhaps we'll give Emma a few more weeks and then see how she really feels about separating the baby poo from the cloth before it goes in the machine...

It may have started off a bit flat but my fourth month ended well, with a bit more energy (well, the ability to stay up beyond 10pm), a slightly recovered appetite and a romantic weekend in Paris to celebrate Valentine's Day. We've resolved to make the most of our precious time together before we become three, since we've only been married for a few months. Nicholas, who's currently busy building the nursery, wanted time out to see a classic car show there, while I had heard about a night of Argentine Tango music at the Bataclan concert hall. We combined the two and managed to get in a couple of romantic strolls as well, one ending on the Pont des Artistes at midnight with Nicholas carving our initials into the railing.

It's been a changeable month, but definitely one with more positives than negatives. I feel well, work is getting busier, which means we can afford to buy the things we need for the baby, and our excitement about the birth is mounting. Roll on the spring and our next scan!

Sue Tabbitt, 33, is a freelance IT journalist, who moved to the outskirts of Normandy 12 months ago to start a new chapter in her life with her Canadian husband, Nicholas, a ballroom dancing teacher.

Tune in next month for Sue Tabbitt's latest instalment of Nine months in Normandy...

Where to next?

• Nine months in Normandy - read the rest of Sue's adventures in France
• Create your own pregnancy diary
• Pregnant? Talk with other mums-to-be on our discussion forum
• Find out more about your pregnancy, use your personalised planner on babyworld
• If you're working in pregnancy, read about your maternity rights