Mine's called simply 'The Grape.' I even wrote a poem about it to my husband...trying to take my mind off nausea...
His name was Grape
He was a babe
Within the womb he lay
And every night and every day
With mommy he would play.
He'd make her sick
He'd make her sleep
He really had some fun!
And feeling cushy
In the driver's seat
He'd rule over his mum.
Well to be fair and to be square,
It wasn't all his fault
The only language he could speak
Was that of hormonal war.
His hormones rage against the odds,
The stomach, glands and such
Until he got the very best
Of what his mum could touch,
What she could see and smell and eat
So that one sunny day
He'd step into this good old world and this to her would say:
'Oh thank you mummy very much,
One day I'll understand
Just what you went through
When my wife
To a babe will give birth.. and
I'll be right there by her side,
If she ever feels unwell
I'll give her food and of my childhood
Good stories I will tell.'
We think the Grape he is a boy,
Quite confident you see
Cos we've been dreaming of his face
For ever, you and me.