French pregnancy diary part 5

Nine months in Normandy

Sue and her bump get moving - on the dancefloor, on a visit to the UK and in her local swimming pool. Find out how pregnant life is suiting her ...

On the move - travels with my bump: weeks 24-28

• Partying through the third trimester
• Homeward bound
• Going swimmingly

Movement seems to have been the theme of weeks 24-28 of my pregnancy. This is the month that I made the transition from the second into the much-anticipated third trimester, the month we went back to England for a final pre-baby family and city fix, the month that Nicholas first felt the baby move, and the month I finally started exercising with a weekly swim.

All in all it's been a busy time. Nicholas, who has been juggling the decoration of the nursery with some roof work and the construction of a pergola in our back garden, (and is now feeling the pressure of all that has still to be achieved before the baby arrives), has also managed to fit in a week-long cookery course, run by our friend Gregoire. He's a French chef who looks the spit of Gerard Depardieu, (he did the catering for our wedding, and is now running a series of 'Normandy cooking' holidays aimed at the British market). Nicholas has learnt a lot of handy cooking tips, but says he has never eaten so much cream, butter and sugar in his life and swears he has put on two stone.

We also played host to a huge party in our mill, on behalf of some French friends who wanted to 'baptise' their newly restored 1930s Peugeot. This involved a maiden voyage from their house to ours (a five mile trip), followed by drunken merriment into the wee hours in our party room (a large room in the mill which we cleared out for our wedding reception and which we are gradually converting into Nicholas's dance studio). Sixty people came to this event, all French - and mostly people we'd never met before - but the atmosphere was warm, relaxed and fun. They do like to dance, the French, which bodes well for Nicholas's grand plans to offer dance classes to locals as well as week-long dancing holidays. Nicholas and I were asked to open the evening's dancing with a romantic waltz, but with my bump, the fact I was wearing flat shoes and that we have barely danced together since our wedding, it was a rather rusty performance.

The baby's outward kicking coincided happily with our trip to the UK. This was a long weekend designed to celebrate my brother's 30th birthday with a huge family get-together in Herefordshire, followed by a couple of days of shopping and culture in London - our last chance before we become three.

It was after a big family dinner on the first night at my brother's that the baby started moving, as it had grown accustomed to doing after meals - especially large ones. Until this point, I hadn't thought the movements were strong enough for anyone else to feel, but the baby seemed particularly active, so Nicholas put his hand on my stomach. On cue, the baby wriggled and a huge beam spread across Nicholas's face. This was also fantastic timing for my parents and siblings, who have otherwise missed out on my pregnancy because of our being in France. It was nice to see everyone, and I was very proud to show off my pronounced bump.

Nicholas was gallantly protective of me when we got to London, worried in case I got jostled on the tube or by the crowds on Oxford Street. I'd heard about friends feeling more vulnerable when they'd been pregnant, but I didn't feel any differently. My eyes were shining at the prospect of a day's shopping, and only when I reached my limit for carrying bags did I intend to stop. I will always, always have a soft spot for London.

As I entered the third trimester, I thought it was about time I undertook a bit more exercise besides my daily walk with the dog. After all, I'm 33 so can't assume I'll have the same easy time of it that Mum had with her three births (she was 20 when she had me). I began by dragging Nicholas to the local swimming pool with me. I don't know why I needed him to come, but I felt I needed moral support for the first time. I also made him visit the pool in advance, to find out the opening times and whether I'd need to wear a swimming cap.

The opening hours are quite restrictive, but we fixed on a Saturday afternoon for our swim. It was blissful. The pool (whose roof comes off in summer, I'm told) was quiet, the other swimmers very friendly, and my bump attracted a few indulgent looks from some of the older women and young girls in the changing room. I did about 10 lengths to start with, and felt wonderfully light in the water. It was only when I tried to climb out that I realised what an elephant I have become! Now I go every weekend, by myself, which is another achievement on the road to independence as an unconfident driver, who's pregnant in a foreign country.

The weather has been disappointing this month - we've been having the same April-like weather that Britain seems to have been having. This time last year it was glorious. I hope it's going to improve, as I want to live outside as much as I can in the last few weeks of pregnancy, and during my short period of time off work after the birth.

So, just 12-13 weeks to go, and counting. Our first ante-natal class is in a fortnight, and at week 32 we'll have our third and final scan. Time is slipping away quickly now, but I find I can't wait for the birth. While I love being pregnant, I'm ready to meet the baby now. Roll on 2nd August.

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
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