Anastasia and her husband, Nick, have been married for 3 years and are expecting their first baby. Anastasia is a freelance writer and lives in London, here’s her pregnancy diary for week 26

Nick and I have decided to go away and have our ‘last hurrah holiday’ before we are three. Since I’m not keen to fly anywhere far away, we’ve decided to go to Austria, so Nick can ski and I can swim, sleep, and spa.

Our hotel is lovely and I have the pool all to myself every day since I am the only non-skier here. This is a blessing, since I look like a beached whale in my M&S maternity swimming costume.

Every night we enjoy a six course meal in the hotel and then go for a (very brief) walk in the winter wonderland of Austria. The town looks like gingerbread and the snow capped mountains and pine trees really put me in the mood to sing Silent Night. The only sounds to be heard are our soft footsteps and my chronic burping.

There are so many kids and babies here. Whereas I used to notice other women’s shoes or hair, I now notice their prams. Whereas I used to ask people about the best restaurants or funkiest clubs, I now ask them how old their little one is. It’s starting already and I’m not even a mother yet.

The swimming pool/spa area has an outdoor hot tub that has been calling my name. I know I’m not supposed to do hot tubs – there’s the risk of turning my baby into a ‘boil-in-bag’ chicken – but temptation takes over and I decide to go for it. Blame the lovely spa attendant Millie (my new best friend, since I am her only customer for most of the day). She decided to bring Nick and me a complimentary bottle of champagne and indicated we should take it outside in the hot tub. How could we say no? So I waddle outside (I’ve never moved so fast. Damn it was cold!) and sink into the hot water. The steam rises, the stars are out, and we toast the holidays, the New Year, and our new baby, feeling wonderful and content with the world. The champagne tastes divine (I only had one glass, ok?) and we spend thirty minutes in a cocoon of watery bliss.

Once pruny, I get out of the hot tub, leg it back indoors, and sit down. Then it happens. I feel that prickly feeling, accompanied by the nausea, the distorted vision, and the sweating. Here we go again. I look at Nick in desperation and we stagger outdoors for the fresh air I’ve moaned about needing desperately. Once again I do my impression of a table, bending from the waist with my hands on a chair, trying to regain composure and not pass out, bare feet on the ice. ‘I’ve boiled our baby!’ I whine, almost in tears. Within a few minutes, I feel perfectly fine again, but this episode has given me something new to worry about. Did I do any damage to the little guy? The hot tub was not that hot, I’ve had hotter baths, but does that mean I’ve been boiling him all along? I get a few of my first swift kicks in the ribs that night, which I take as a good sign. Maybe the little sprout is mad as hell and giving it back to me for being so careless.

See Josa's pregnancy diray for a href="/pregnancyandbaby/pregnancy/weekly/articles/0,,166200_171283,00.html">weeks 26-28.