And since I got the luck to drop by 'Babyki', let me share a bit about our days in the maternity war…

And since I got the luck to drop by 'Babyki', let me share a bit about our days in the maternity ward. Turns out, my son is a handful; not every midwife can get him to cooperate with the CTG. On Thursday and Friday, a very sweet midwife slightly older than me (she looked no more than 25-27) did the CTG. The baby didn't like the monitor from the women's clinic; he kept messing it up. Here, on the contrary, he refused to move almost at all. I think it's because the sensors here are tied with looser bandages, whereas in the clinic they squeezed him a bit, but that doesn't matter. To get him moving for the CTG, midwives gently press on the belly. If my son cooperated with the pretty midwife, today he wouldn't even be friends with the older one. We tried everything to wake him up. Before the CTG, I specifically ate a chocolate bar—usually that worked, but not today. During the CTG, the midwife tried three times with her hands to get him moving, but it didn't really work either. Then they asked me to lie on one side, then the other, sit up, lie down again, and bend my legs. In short, my son just wouldn't respect the older generation; he sat there quietly, just like in the meme with the raccoon: 'She let her husband touch her belly while the baby was kicking.' With great difficulty, after 30 minutes, they let me go. And this child decided to move immediately after I crossed the threshold of the room :) This person certainly has his share of mischief. He hid for a long time, didn't want to come out until the due date, persuasion doesn't work on him, and neither does chocolate. Apparently, my son took after his dad—he's just as stubborn and mischievous.