I flicked through the pages of the little development book I've been keeping for my baby boy, who is now seven months old.

From the pregnancy test to today, this book holds the milestones, memories and musings.

At 32 weeks we had a fourth scan which confirmed that a small complication was no longer an issue and I would be able to go ahead with a natural birth, praise God.

I remember looking at the scan, thinking how big he looked. The little black-and-white image gave the impression of a kid smearing his face against a window, cheeks and nose and lips flattened.

We were told he weighed 1.8 kilograms _ a ``healthy'' weight _ and was kicking and squirming like he was fully cooked and ready to meet the outside world.

But he had eight weeks yet.

Thirty-two weeks was also when mum organised a baby shower with friends and family. It was a hot Saturday afternoon and we sat sipping punch in our summer dresses, the mums in the room sharing sage advice.

``Breast-feed if possible,'' Julie said.

``Make lots of noise around the house'' was Tania's advice, and nurse Lois declared ``Be wise, immunise!''

``Tell them you love them,'' Alie said.

``Create memories for your children,'' Fiona added, while Aileen suggested that bub be ``wrapped tightly with arms tucked in a bunny rug when sleeping.''

And Nan wound an arm around my shoulders and said: ``Relax at the

birth and relax around your baby _ they sense your stress.''

True, true and true. Morsels of wisdom that have proven invaluable.

It was all so real at 32 weeks.

And then I read of the termination of 32-week-old unborn twins in Melbourne last week.

Mum had been told by doctors that one of her twin boys had a congenital heart defect that ``would require years of operations if he survived at all''.

She made the decision to abort.

However, when the procedure was performed on Tuesday, the healthy twin was accidentally injected.

An emergency caesarean was performed before the other little boy was also terminated.