‘Why would she lie?’

‘She’s not lying, not deliberately. She’s got this idea of herself as Wonder Woman. Or maybe she thinks you don’t want to help. Or can’t help.’

‘So I need to demonstrate a contribution to the pregnancy process?’

‘Support. Taking an interest. Being there. That’s all Lydia and I are looking for. And Don?’

‘You have a question?’

‘How many power foods in the hamburger? There was lettuce and tomato. On both of them.’

‘Eight. But—’

‘No buts.’

This time she did hug me. I kept still and it was over quite quickly.

14

Lydia was right. Six weeks had passed since Rosie’s announcement of the pregnancy. Yet despite setting up the tile schedule to support the Baby Project, I had actually done almost zero to prepare for baby production and maintenance, other than the purchase of ingredients for one pregnancy-compatible meal and the research excursion that led to the Playground Incident.

Gene was wrong. Instincts that worked in the ancestral environment were not sufficient in a world that regulated playground visits and allowed choices between tofu and pizza. He was right, however, in recommending that I address the problem in my own way, working from my strengths. But I needed to begin now, not wait until after the baby was born.

My search for appropriate texts on the practical issues of pregnancy produced a substantial list. I decided to begin with a well-regarded book as a broad guide to the field and then refer to the specific papers that it referenced for more detailed information. The sales assistant at the medical school bookshop recommended the fourth edition of What to Expect When You’re Expecting by Murkoff and Mazel, with the warning that some readers found it too technical. Perfect. It was reassuringly thick.

A quick examination of What to Expect identified some positive and negative attributes. The coverage of topics was impressive, although much was irrelevant to Rosie and me: we did not own a cat that might cause infection via its faeces; we were not habitual users of cocaine; Rosie did not have any fears about her competence as a mother. The referencing was poor, a fault doubtless caused by it being intended for a non-academic audience. I was constantly looking for the evidence.

The first chapter I read was ‘Nine Months of Eating Well’. It provided the meta study I was looking for, drawing together the best research on diet in pregnancy and using it as the basis for practical recommendations. At least that appeared to be the intent.

The chapter title was yet another reminder that Rosie and the developing foetus—exposed and vulnerable to toxins crossing the placental wall—had experienced nine weeks of not eating well, including three weeks of not drinking well, due to the lack of planning. But alcohol already ingested could not be un-ingested. I needed to focus on the things that I could change and accept the things I could not.

The advocacy for organic and local produce was predictable. This was a subject that I had previously researched for obvious economic and health reasons. Any advice on pregnancy based on the premise that ‘natural is better’ should be accompanied by statistics on birth outcomes in the ‘natural’ environment, devoid of nutritional diversity, antibiotics and sterile operating theatres. And, of course, a rigorous definition of ‘natural’.

The disparity between my well-researched conclusions about organics and the summary in the book was a useful warning not to accept recommendations without checking primary sources. Meanwhile, I had no choice but to rely on What to Expect as the best information available. I skimmed the rest of the book, learning some interesting facts, before devoting the remainder of the afternoon to developing a Standardised Meal System (Pregnancy Version) in line with its recommendations. Rosie’s rejection of meat and unsustainable seafood made the job simpler by reducing the number of options. I was confident that the resulting menu would provide an adequate nutritional base.

As so often occurs in science, implementation proved more difficult than planning. Rosie’s initially negative reaction to the tofu meal should have been a warning. I had to remind myself that my acquisition of more comprehensive knowledge had not of itself changed Rosie’s view. Logical, but non-intuitive. Rosie raised the subject without prompting from me.

‘Where did you get the smoked mackerel from?’ she asked.

‘Irrelevant,’ I said. ‘It was cold-smoked.’

‘So?’

‘Cold-smoked fish is banned.’

‘Why?’

‘It could make you sick.’ I was conscious of the vagueness of my answer. I had not had time to research the evidence behind the unreferenced claim, but at this point I had to accept it as the best advice available.

‘Lots of things can make you sick. I’m sick every morning at the moment and I feel like some more of that smoked mackerel. It’s probably my body sending me a signal that I need smoked mackerel. Cold-smoked mackerel.’

‘I recommend a tinned salmon and soybean-based mini-meal. The good news is that you can eat it immediately to satisfy your craving.’ I walked to the refrigerator and fetched Part One of Rosie’s dinner.

‘Mini-meal? What’s a mini-meal?’

It was fortunate that I was studying pregnancy. Rosie had clearly done minimal research.

‘A partial solution to the nausea problem. You should eat six mini-meals per day. I’ve organised a second meal for you at 9.00 p.m.’

‘What about you? Are you eating at nine o’clock?’