French pregnancy diary part 4

Nine months in Normandy

'Big' (from big knickers to big families): weeks 20-24

• Cramps, heartburn, skin tags… bring it all on!
• Viva la French healthcare!
• Big knickers
• Timetabling the visitors

In many ways this has been a quiet, uneventful month, not that I'm complaining. My eating habits have stabilised, the baby's movements are getting stronger by the day (Nicholas can feel them now, much to his wonderment), and I'm getting progressively bigger. I have my energy back now, and feel relatively normal, if you leave aside the common pregnancy complaints… which I'm developing in true text book fashion. These include leg cramps, horrendous stitches when walking the dog, a plague of unsightly skin tags (including three embedded in my fast reversing navel), nosebleeds, heartburn and other, more unmentionable symptoms.

Fortunately we are now 100 per cent covered by the French healthcare system, so I don't feel like I'm paying for the huge bags of medication I keep having to collect from the local pharmacy (Gaviscon, magnesium supplements and an inferior French version of Fibogel). Also, the words for many of these medical phenomena are similar in French to in English, so I'm managing to make myself understood when complaining to my gynaecologist (who, although fluent in English, stopped trying to impress us with his anglophile charms after the first session).

Week 22 brought our second scan (of three we're entitled to in France), which was something of an anti-climax. After seeing so much on the first one, we'd expected bigger and better of the second, but we were disappointed. Comments from Dr Richard (pronounced 'Reeshaaard') such as 'Here, you can clearly see an ear' brought strained expressions to both our faces. We desperately wanted to agree that we could make out the various limbs and features, but admitted to each other afterwards that we'd been unable to make out very much at all apart from a mass of throbbing heart muscle. (There was no danger of us mistakenly learning the sex!) Still, at least we were reassured that everything was developing normally, and we both now feel we've had a refresher course in 'O' Level biology, covering the different ventricles that make up the heart, to the composition of the brain, and in French to boot. But we didn't bother emailing anyone the scan pictures this time.

On the subject of doctors, I must say I'm glad we stopped seeing our local GP in favour of monthly check-ups with the hospital gynaecologist, since we've now become quite good friends with Dr Largenton and his family. At a recent village dance, where we each took it in turns to polka with someone else's partner, I shuddered with embarrassment to think of the other context in which we'd had close proximity…

Knowing that work colleagues and certain male friends are now following this diary column makes me slightly reluctant to mention my clothing dilemma of weeks 20 onwards, which has been lingerie. Suffice to say that French knickers aren't all they're cracked up to be in the maternity department. My friend Rachel wasn't called 'Big pants, no brain' without just cause during her pregnancy here, and now Nicholas has affectionately adopted the same endearing nickname for me.

His jaw dropped when the nice lady in 'New Baby' held up the two options. He balked even more when I went for the more generous option, encouraged in this decision by the afore-mentioned Rachel ('Comfort and support are everything,' she assured me. Nicholas still hasn't forgiven her). Between us, Nicholas and I have now given up all hope of my maintaining style and grace for the rest of the pregnancy. It's not nearly as glamorous as the magazines would have you believe!

Perhaps that's why I can't get Nicholas to watch my new birth video. He's as excited about the impending delivery as any expectant father could be, yet for some reason he doesn't feel the same imperative as me to watch eight different cases of women turning from elegant, intelligent creatures into unrecognisable monsters with stretched flesh and red faces, bending over a chair and bellowing like wild animals. Buying this video was my attempt to cover myself in case I didn't understand what was going on at the forthcoming antenatal classes - this, and my library of pregnancy Encyclopaedia, all ordered from www.Amazon.co.uk, my lifeline to British literature and home entertainment.

Working out when everyone will come and see the new baby has been proving our biggest challenge this month, since August is peak holiday season in France, meaning ferries and flights now need to be booked if grandparents are to get their first glimpse of baby Tabbitt before he or she is crawling.

My major dilemma has been whether I want my mum at the birth or not, or whether to keep this experience for the two of us alone and have everyone else come out to us after I've had chance to recover in hospital for a few days. In France you're allowed up to stay in hospital for up to two weeks, in a private room with its own bathroom, baby-changing facilities, TV and phone! The midwives spend this time teaching you everything you need to know, and will do it all for you if you're too tired. Faced with this choice, or coming home after five days and trying to cope alone, I think I know which I prefer at this stage - however anti-veggie French hospital food turns out to be.

For the moment, then, we've decided we'll have a few days to ourselves before our families start to descend, but it's so hard to know how we'll feel nearer the time. It's at times like this that the distance from loved ones starts to hit home.

Having said that, it's also at times like this when we realise how lucky we are to be in France. The more pregnant I become, the more I seem to be entitled to. All my medical costs are covered, the quality of care is excellent, and I'm now starting to receive social payments, a la Family Allowance. Even though I'm freelance, I can take a month off work and be reimbursed £700, which will at least cover the mortgage. If I take longer, I'm entitled to even more. The good thing about having a baby here is that procreation is positively encouraged - something about them wanting to boost the population in case of another world war. No wonder we know so many families with four children or more (tax breaks start at three). At 33, I'm wondering if I've started too late to play the system properly!

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

Shop@babyworld