The Normality Illusion
So, day 11 of parenthood, and while we can't be described as feeling "normal", there is the sense that we're beginning to adapt to our new life-with-child and that we can cope after all. Today has, in fact, been much like any other Sunday, plus nappies. We popped the wee fella into his pram and went down the street for a massive fry-up, and then round to Tchai-Ovna for tea and chat. I was concerned that at this stage we wouldn't want to leave the house due to the hassle of moving him around, but it's really not so bad, and he's quite relaxed once secured in his pram.
It's really only getting up in the morning after too little sleep that I'm finding hard, and going back to work will be an effort, but so far things are going fairly well. I had a couple of nappy disasters early in the week, but I'm getting better at those, as well as learning how to get him calmed down when he's screaming bloody murder. Thankfully, this isn't too often, and in general he's a pretty chilled out kid. At least, for the time being. He's still at the stage of sleeping most of the day, and only has short periods of open-eyed alertness. In the first couple of weeks there's not a whole lot of interaction you can have with a baby, but their brains are sooking in information from the world around them the whole time and building the foundations of language and motor skills, even if it seems like all they are doing is stare into space. I am looking forward to being able to play with him a bit more though.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
At Home
I don't want to give the impression that anyone is still in the hospital, so I'd just like to note that mum & baby were released from jail on Sunday. Thus, we're in that sleepless new parent stage that must be a bit like recovering from a head injury, I would imagine. Everything is a bit fuzzy, and we're not sure what day it is, but we are enjoying having him, even though he doesn't do much yet.
We are very gradually getting into a routine, so hopefully we'll be feeling a bit more human soon.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Baby Jail
So another day has passed without a release from the Southern General. Aidan was finally allowed to go back upstairs to be with his mum, but they want him to spend 24 continuous hours with her to ensure that everything is ok before they will let them go. Hopefully this time tomorrow they should be home. And not a minute too soon.
Now the staff at the Southern Gen have, on the whole, been wonderful, being full of good advice and caring magnificently for the new mum and her boy. However, if there's one complaint to be had about the place, it is the food. Now, NHS food is legendarily bad, and I'm sure there's nothing original in bemoaning the fact, but honestly... you know what R was given for her first proper meal after giving birth (tea and toast in the delivery room notwithstanding?
A cheese sandwich.
Now, I quite like a cheese sandwich now and then. My favourite is to grate the cheese and mix it with mayonnaise and chopped up Pimento peppers. Yum. Onion is also good - the celebrated "cheese savoury" of many a Glasgow sandwich shop. Hell, even just cheese and a blob of Branston Pickle makes for a fine snack. I'm not a snob about the humble cheese sandwich, but the one served to R that morning consisted of cheese, bread and... well... cheese and bread, basically. The archetypal cheese sandwich, perhaps, but not what you want to see after a day-and-a-half of pushing a baby out of you.
The staff are endlessly apologetic about the quality of the fare, and it's really not their fault. They just don't have the funding to provide anything better. We are, of course, immensely grateful that the NHS exists, it's just a shame that it has to struggle in so many areas.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Aidan Update
Aidan and his mum are spending another night in the hospital. Yesterday evening he started puking up green goo. Newborn babies are generally a bit pukey anyway, but for it to be green is not good, since this could potentially indicate the presence of an intestinal blockage. He was taken out of the postnatal recovery ward and brought downstairs to the neonatal unit where he can be continually observed. This has been quite hard on R, since until then he had not left her side, and I must admit the sight of an empty cot beside her bed wasn't especially pleasant for me when I arrived at the hospital this morning, either. She can, however, go down and see him at any time, and if he awakens and cries a midwife will fetch her at any time. It's still hard for her to have to go back upstairs afterwards, however.
Fortunately, other than a tiny blob this morning, he has been mostly free of green vom and is feeding and pooping like a star. Providing he can hold off on the Exorcist act for 24 hours he should be released into the wild tomorrow. Fingers are crossed.
Thanks everyone who has sent messages of congratulations in the last few days. Sorry I haven't been too good at getting back to folk, but things have been a bit hectic, as I'm sure you can imagine, and most of my time has been spent at the hospital.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Waiting Over
Introducing Aidan Allen McChesney.
Born today at about 1840 (so much for expecting him in the early hours), he weighed 9lbs 11oz and is doing well.
I know I'm a cynical, moany old bugger at times, but nothing can turn a man into a blubbering mess like seeing his son being born. link | 6 comment(s)
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
The Waiting Game: Part Deux
You know the scene. It's been in a million movies and television shows. The parents-to-be are sitting at home, when the woman clutches her tummy, turns to the man and goes "honey, it's time." Cue panic, running around the house to gather everything they need for the hospital, before a red-light jumping race to the hospital while she lies in the back seat moaning in agony.
This is bollocks.
R's been in labour since about 12.30 am this morning. It's now about 10.30pm and we're at home watching telly. Which is not to say that labour is a breeze, just that it's not the sudden cataclysmic event one tends to imagine. Early labour is a very gradual process that can, potentially, last for days, and consists of contractions with ever-decreasing periods of calm in between. The prevailing philosophy in this country is that the mum-to-be should spend as much time at home as possible. Really, there's not much that they can do until close to the end, and it's infinitely preferable to wait in the comfort of your own home than in an NHS hospital ward. Apart from the contractions, which are painful, you could be forgiven for mistaking it for any other Tuesday night. During the quiet periods we've time to watch telly, put our feet up and write blog posts. Sleep, however, is out of the question.
We have been over to the hospital twice already today, in order for them to keep an eye on things, and the best guess is that this baby's going to make an appearance some time tomorrow morning.
That's when the panicking begins.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
The Waiting Game
Blogging is a bit like exercising for me. I'm always glad when I do it, and if I get into the habit I find it easy to do so fairly regularly, but one little blip and I lost momentum, making it awful hard to start up again. See that last little run of posts which suddenly fizzled out.
We've been in something of a pre-baby limbo of late. R is getting mighty sick of being pregnant and I cannot say that I blame her. Late pregnancy is a pretty miserable time full of indignities that nobody really mentions until you bring them up yourself, when they go "oh yeah, I had that." The good news is that her passenger is in the correct position and "engaged", meaning that he's ready to go as soon as the time is right, which could be any minute now.
I expect to have loads to write about in the near future, then. I also expect to be too knackered to bother, but you never know.