Alder's Tone

Whether or not you like the virus like spread of the Starbucks coffee shops, they have become a focal point within towns and cities here as much as the other side of the pond.

So is it a good thing or a bad thing? Well, Junior had his first Starbucks (experience) this morning, and I'm pleased to say it went very well.

As a large corporate body they are clearly a target for the anti-capitalists, but they do have clearly defined social responsibilities. So I stress here for those with gripes against them that I don't. It's my opinion and I'm entitled to it. Just as those who have gripes against them are entitled to theirs, which I respect.

So now I've done my peace-making bit, how did it go? Well, Starbucks have a concession within Borders bookstore in Edinburgh, and it is really family friendly. I've been in there a few times on weekday mornings and it's crammed with mums and babies or toddlers. And it's not until you have your own, or have one on the way, that you start to look at why.

SMA in your coffee?First off, the staff. Their reputation is really good, apparently they won't ask if you need help if you are trying to carry a bag and a child, they will just help. I had to ask for some hot water this morning, "Is it for a baby's bottle?", the result was an appropriate amount of hot water in their largest cup which, incidentally, could have been custom made for wide-neck bottles.

Secondly, the furniture. They have a large number of booster chairs which sit neatly over the backs of the normal chairs for babies and toddlers (obviously those who can sit up on their own). And the number of booster seats they have is quite large for the number of normal seats they have, they are geared up for large numbers of kids in at once.

Thirdly, the facilities. Changing facilties ahoy. Right next to the lift to take you between the mezanine level and the ground floor.

Perfect.

Posted by Alder at 23 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (3)

So you've found out your are going to have a child, its exciting and you are bursting to tell the world. Your parents are going to become Grandparents, and my one remaining Grandparent is going to become a Great-grandparent! You want to tell your siblings, I want to see my sisters face when she finds out she's to become an Aunt. And our friends will be over the moon!! Choosing not to tell people is extremely difficult, but there are good reasons. We compromised.

On the night we found out, after I had had a secret drink in the garage whilst Sarah watched Emmerdale or something we discussed the "Should we tell people" subject. Some people choose to tell their close family straight away, others will wait until well into the pregnancy. Everyone is different but for me it was important to get the scan first and then show the pictures to the world. I had thought a full page in the Metro should do it.

Anyway, the first few weeks were absolute hell. When with friends and family one line you are not likely to hear from Sarah and I too often is "Oh actually, I'll just have some pomegranate juice rather than that fine Chardonnay, thanks though"....FHM WARNING!! We'd be as well taking out that Metro advert early. "Oh so your preganant" would be the response!

So various schemes were devised. Gin bottles which actually contained more tonic. Elderberry non alcholic wine bottles stashed in various locations so we could pour the good wine out and this stuff in when people turned their backs, and my personal favourite "Here drink this quickly before they come back into the room"... It was hard work. Ask Sarah what the hardest night for her was and I would place the mortgage on it it would be my sisters Hen night. Picture the scene, a hen night in Glasgow...ok so far, just...at a Curry Karaoke restaurant - I'm thinking 5 or 6 tequila slammers to cope with that one! But to her credit Sarah managed to get through the night without anyone guessing!

And so we made it to the booking appointment - it was week 10 by this point. We had found out on July 21st, this was now August 11th and we had a fortnight off in two weeks time - Sarahs Brother was even up from Brighton. All was going to work out well. Only 2 weeks until the scan! Life is never that straight forward though.

Despite our hints and I dont mind saying begging (I drew the line at kissing a mid wifes little toe) we were told September 15th would be the date of the scan. Around about 13 and a half weeks to 14 weeks! The bad news was this meant another month of keeping quiet, scams, her Brother being told by phone etc. The good news was we would get a great scan as the baby, fingers crossed would be developing well.

We made a decision over the next few days to tell a select bunch of people pre-scan. I am a big believer in everyone doing things their own way in life, here was our logic. If anything were to happen to junior between that moment and the scan then I would want the support of those I had told. We felt that by telling them now that would be there without haivng to take in the shock of the fact we had been having a baby in the first place. The other deciding factor was that far from reducing stress with regards to Sarah, it was actually causing her more. She would stress about every night we had in company and I was not happy watching her get wound up. Decision made. As I said, I think everyone has to deal with these things in their own way, its whats best for you that counts.

So we told our parents and siblings and the look on their faces was fantastic. The mothers did not get it when I pointed to Sarahs stomach and waved a wee baby hat in the air, the dads got it straight away. My sister thought it was a hat for when she went snow boarding before realising wee teddys are not hip on the slopes at the moment. (They will come in eventually!). We partied, good times! Well we partied until I got the nod that Sarah had had her fill of tonic! Only a small number of people knew pre-scan but for us it worked well.

Having told people the pregnancy became a little more real for me, but to be honest I know its becoming a cliche of sorts but it was only when we had the scan and saw "Raspy" for the first time that it really hit me.

*Raspy - whilst reading a book at week 7 or 8 it mentioned junior would be the size of a raspberry at this point. The name stuck. It could have been plum or eggy as time went on but its Raspy, who am I to argue. You go girl.

Posted by ChrisGent at 23 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (1)

As I mentioned I'll break down the 1st trimester into sections and then try to get up to present day so I can start giving you a blow by blow account of the 2nd trimester as it happens (already a couple of weeks into it so need to get cracking!). I'll begin by reliving the moment we found out we were going to have a young whipper snapper.

It was a sunny night, I remember not because we stared into the sunset holding our little pregnancy test kit having just been delievered the good news, no I remember because I had sweat streaming down me like rain down a window having just played 5 a side at Portobello for an hour!

Anyway, Sarah brought up a small cup in which to place her sample and I waited in the bedroom, heart thumping. She came back into the bedroom with the sloshing contents and I thanked the lord I could not smell. No such luck for her, urine and sweat - nice. We placed the test kit in the sample and 5 seconds later its confirmed. There you go, you're having a kid! We sat for about 15 minutes just staring at each other. We laughed, she cried, I laughed, we floated down stairs and then just sat in a trance like state.

My first words at this magical time were "I need a drink, do you....DOH!"....

I dont think I will ever match the experience of seeing that line appear, well perhaps the birth etc will beat it, but as experiences go it will be in my top 10 when I look back on life.

We did decide to try and work out when the child was concieved, dont worry, no details will be shared - we're friends but this aint that type of site! If we were inclined to name the baby after where it was concieved in a Beckham-esque manner this was quickly ruled out. "Half time during the highlights of Brazil vs Ghana in the World Cup whilst staying at your parents house in Musselburgh whilst they were sunning themselves in the Dominican Republic" does not roll off the tongue! Apparently other suggestions I made such as "Alan Hansen Gent" or "Gary Lineker Gent" after the witnesses to the act were not going to be candidates either. Given Brazil were on I had thought "Pele" might be suitable, but given the adverts he is famous for doing I thought perhaps it would be too ironic.

There is no doubt looking down and seeing a line appear, realising you are about to enter the 2nd half of your life (its the way I think of it) and contemplating the coming years is overwhelming. For me it was a million thoughts and feelings rolled into one. Excitement, nerves, elation, contemplation - you just cant describe it. Its the excitement about bringing up a child, starting your own family mixed with "Oh my god, I struggle to tie my own shoe laces...as for long division, how am I meant to help with that!!".

At least thats how it was for me........

Posted by ChrisGent at 23 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (2)

We have literally dozens of thankyou cards to send out for all the things that have been bought for Junior. So the launch of Royal Mail's online postage seemed to be a blessing, to save that walk to the Post Office, have the curlish "Andrea"* behind the counter give her usual scowl, and avoid doing battle with the people who insist on paying their £50 phone bill in bags of 2 pence pieces.

How wrong I could be.

It all looks glossy on the website (which is clunky, poorly put together and a nightmare to navigate bewteen related items - try going from your profile where you "top up" your online account to where you buy your postage in less than 3 clicks - go on, I challenge you), then when you try and actually use it, it's a different story.

So, the reality:

No stamp of approval for online postageYou have to enter the address for where the item is going. That's right, item. Singular. Not plural. So basically what I have to do is go through the whole process for each and every single "stamp" I want. That's enter the recipient name and address (mandatory), enter a return address (optional), select what format to print from a very small selection, pay then print. Then start again for stamp number 2.

But we've got envelopes that have already got addresses handwritten on. All I want is the stamp, not the address too. Sorry, no can do. "What's that, a place near Katmandu?" Each label is printed fully, you must enter the recipient name and address and you must print it onto your envelope, label or paper. Your label options are limited, basically the smallest that it can do is 4 to a sheet of A4 (that's A6). So of no use to me for my current requirement whatsoever.

If this is suitable for you, you only have until the next working day to send your item, after that your barcode expires and your postage is invalid.

All in all, not very convenient, not very handy for bulk purchases, and not very intuitive. Will I recommend it? Not in the current state, no. If you could, say, specify I want 24 first class stamps and be able to print them off on standard Avery address labels at 24 per page, then just whack them randomly on your items, then yes I possibly would. They already have a product, "Smart Stamp", which fills this need, but at £5/month aimed at business customers.

* Andrea. Not her real name.

Posted by Alder at 22 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've added a new category, as a result a couple of previous posts have moved from the generic "Dads" to the new "Baby's first". There will be a lot of "baby's first" type posts, so I thought it best to have a new category for all of these.

A couple of posts have also changed title and URL just to keep up with the category changes, all there in the "Baby's first" category now.

Posted by Alder at 18 September 2006 | Permalink

Saturday saw a huge milestone, baby's first football match. I was gutted at not taking him two weeks ago, but the rain was just too heavy. We'd arrange for Chris & Sarah to come down and share the experience (to be honest I think Chris just has a thing for the pies), but it was a washout.

As it was, the local team won that game. Which comes as a rare surprise, we never saw them win all last season, the last win we actually saw was the demolition of a borders team in a pre-season friendly.

Needless to say, normal form was restored yesterday and we took a 0-2 beating on the chin. Unlike the local egg-chasers who are actually quite good and won at home yesterday.

Did Jubior come away with anythng? His very own season ticket, a couple of laps around the ground (Grannie and Mummy, not Daddy who was rooted to his spot just to the right of the North goalmouth where, incidentally, there was only action for half the game).

I was worried that his first phrase might be "who's the w@nker in the black" but the ref was in blue yesterday, so we're going to be safe on that front.

BTW Chris, there's a new pie supplier, they only had 4 yesterday, needless to say I got one of them, and hmm hmmmmmmmmmmm deeeeelishuss.

Posted by Alder at 17 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (1)

I never thought it would happen, I thought I would put it off until well after it was humanly possible to concieve, I've always thought its for people for a few more years of experience in life. Well a few months back I decided enough was enough, these were merely excuses....

And so Sarah and I threw away the rubber contraption that was never designed for ease of use anyhow and went for it. 4 months later we were sitting on our bed staring at a line appearing. Or rather 2 pink lines. Sarah was a week or two late but I had asked her to wait a little longer whenever she broached the subject in the days leading up to that moment. I knew, she knew, I needed to take a breath! And so, with the packet stating clearly it may take up to two minutes for lines to appear I began to prepare myself. 5 seconds later it was confirmed! No time for me to breathe in for 7 and out for 10, get myself into some sort of meditative state....no in keeping with conception the line appeared within seconds.

And so it was that I began my journey with Sarah - with a helpful hints and tip site ready made!! Nice one Lee! I've no doubt that we will differ in some of the ways we go through the pregnancy from Lee and Debs, and indeed in the way we bring up the child. Lee buys dry food for his cats, ours have kitekat (dont my beddings know it). But having a mate who is 1 step ahead of you is something I'm going to value.

Anyway, being a keen writer (with a small vocabulary, expect a lot of three letter words and repi...repita..rep
!) I've been keeping a diary of sorts as Sarah and I go through the various experiences that come with the territory. Consequently having literally entered the 2nd trimester Lee has been kind enough to let me share the 1st/2nd trimester experiences on this blog. Given he started his blog at the beginning of the 3rd trimester he's agreed I can write about the 1st two. Thanks Lee.

Unfortunately between work, writing for an ice hockey programme and various other commitments I think it will more than likely be a weekly summary. Will summarise the 1st trimester in my next post.

For the record as I write I have just entered the 2nd trimester - we had our scan yesterday and mother to be and child are both healthy and doing well! The kid was jumping about, crawling up the side of the womb with its feet, it put its hand to its mouth and pushed its head back against the other side of the womb. I gawped...forgot to breathe and tried manfully to not shed a tear... I have barely put the photo down since yesterday. Anyway, one thing at a time.

Posted by ChrisGent at 16 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (3)

In true radio phone-in style I have a "long time listener, first time caller" on the line. One of my foreign readers has been in touch to say he's recently found out he's going to be a dad (many congratulations). Hopefully, if we can get through the language barrier, and if he's willing and able, I'll be asking him to post up the entries I never had chance to given I never got the blog going until MOTS was in the third trimester. If it all works out we may have some dual posting going on - sets for earlier pregnancy and sets for my little 'uns progress.

Posted by Alder at 15 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (2)

During the pregnancy The Fat Lady was unsure about foetal movement in the early stages of the weeks that are normal to start feeling it, but I was sure I had felt the baby before she was as sure. How? I used to pin my ears to the bump (though at that stage there was no bump to speak of) and could hear fluid gurgling. I got a definite movement in the ear one night that The Fat Lady hadn’t felt. Will the development continue in this way in “the outside world”?

How long until…? Sure it will. For the first 3 weeks I’ve missed a hell of a lot, being in work for long hours and weekends too. What I didn’t miss last night was MOTS shouting through thinking she’d got the first smile. At 22 days? Well, the health visitor did say to look out for it in the next week or so, and the “norm” is 4-6 weeks. I’m convinced I got one shortly after too, no hunger, clean nappy, winded, comfortable, being rocked in Daddy’s arms, eyes open wide looking up at me looking down at him, and while I chatted away I’m sure I got a real smile.

So how, exactly, do I think it was a real smile rather than a grimace? There was nothing to grimace about, no wriggling, no discomfort at all, no demands, just gazing and listening going on. And it’s supposed to be a reaction to voice and face, which this was. So I’m happy with it, MOTS is happy with it, and with the way he smiled I’m sure baby was too.

We could be wrong, but that’s our first five nines (99.999%). Any doubts? Of course, otherwise there'd be a one and two zeros in there. Why the doubt? All the way through pregnancy The Fat Lady never strayed from the path of normal bump size at all. So for all those who commented on her being big, small, neat, number 37 bus, all wrong I'm afraid, she was bang on normal all the way. But then the doubt is only 0.001%, so in the grand scheme of things I'm more likely to win the lottery tonight. And as it's Thursday and there isn't a draw...

This got me looking for development milestones on the tinternet. And the usual sites came back, so I'm happy enough with the returns. Once I've got a better feel for the websites I'll start posting links in the links section and in each post when appropriate - yes, I know I haven't for a while, but the ones there just now were relevant to particular posts, so I'll continue in that manner.

Posted by Alder at 14 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

A couple of weeks in, and a couple of signs already that kids grow so quickly. One is actually quite frightening, the other is at the moment kinda cute, but will soon wear thin.

First off is the clothing. Mummy and daddy have bought nothing, absolutely diddly squat. This was never meant to be the case, we were going to buy something nice to come home in, as it was the whole experience was shattered so the fact we never actually bought anything special was, in hindsight, a good move.

So if we've bought nothing, then is he running around starkers? No, that'd be silly, he's not old enough to run yet. Come one, think I'm that daft?

Everything he has in his wardrobe has been given by Susan (a huge box of Ben's old stuff) and bought by friends and relatives. Mummy and daddy will no doubt have plenty of spend further down the line, but for now we're happy to keep opening the daily arrival of parcels to find something new. He's got a fantastic spread of stuff from now through to 12 months, some size ranges more than others, but gaps can easily be plugged.

Gucci, Gucci shoes So here's the deal. Some of that newborn stuff he's had from Susan he's grown out of already. There's one sleepsuit that's a certainty, another looking very doubtful (may try it tomorrow). But having seen some of the others he's looking at being out of plenty more pretty soon too. This is scary, seeing him grow so much in just over two weeks. He’s going to get one pair of designer shoes, MOTS has already said as soon as he’s walking he’s having some Timberlands, I guess they will be kept and not passed on.

And then there’s his spacial awareness. He his becoming very aware of what’s going on around him. And there’s the cute part – for the last two nights he’s hit his cot mobile and started the music off on his own. Now then, last night this was just after it had stopped, with the quiet he started moving around, hit the button, and settled again when the music started back up. While this was clearly an involuntary action at this stage, he is looking at where the noise comes from, so it won’t be too long before he’s got 4 from putting 2 and 2 together. And that’s when that cute moment will wear thin, when it’s a conscious decision to put it on, at 3 in the morning when mummy and daddy are asleep. So for now I’m happy to think I have a genius who is putting his own music on, ignoring the fact it is a random act of flailing arms.

Posted by Alder at 08 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (2)

Last week I got junior registered, so he now officially exists, has a number and all that. Only thing is, the modern birth certificates are a major let-down. Progress, particularly of the computerised kind, is not always a good thing.

I had to make an appointment with the registrar as they don't staff the site permanently, so fair enough. A very nice lady from Middlesbrough was the "asst." registrar for the appointment, and away we went giving all the details etc.

I knew up front what I needed, which was the card from the hospital giving date and time, sex and very little else, and as both parents were married (to each other) the marriage certificate. The marriage certificate was of the "proper" kind, hand written in ever-lasting ink, just like our birth certificates.

So imagine my disappointment when the printer churned out a sheet of A4 with the details on. "This is the abridged version which you get free". OK, knew that one, also know the "big" version is £8.50. As the passport office require the fully entry we pretty much have to pay the £8.50, or never leave the country again. So what does that £8.50 pay for? The same print routine, but a tick placed in one extra box to print out more details on an identical sheet of A4. The only sign of any ink was for the registrar's signature and aline to cross through the boxes that were not used. Though how we had unused boxes I don't know.

I felt like Joe Pesci as Leo Getz in Lethal Weapon. Richard, help me out here, it's the drive-thru scene.

Violated for £8.50 I was.

Posted by Alder at 06 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm a logical sort of person, for all actions a person takes there must be a reason for doing so, otherwise there is no point in doing it. Even if the action is inaction. So when junior starts to scream the place down for no apparent reason I'm a little bit out of my depth.

There are an obvious set of rules to follow:

Hunger?
Wind?
Nappy?

And mostly those cover it.

Then there's the other options:
Colic?
Temperature?
Tired?
Bored?
Lonely?
Teething?

Some of the latter don't apply to us yet (at 2 weeks he's a little early to start worrying about teeth). So what was it last night? I have absolutely no idea, but we never got him settled after his bath. The routine that starts at 9pm of bath, feed, wind, cuddle, dressed and bed seemed to be working well until last night, and for some still unknown reason it all went Pete Tong. Even the usual 4 minute rule (where junior is left to scream for four minutes because that's all he can handle before falling asleep) didn't work. So a trip out in the car at turned midnight worked a treat, after 5 miles he was sound asleep. Ahh, motion...

Then came the inevitable - transfer from car seat to crib. Which set the whole thing off again. NNNNOOOOOoooo.....

MOTS ended up going downstairs to sleep on the sofa with junior in his bouncer chair. I'm starting to think he likes to be slightly bent rather than flat out. That's the only difference I can think of.

Rhyme or reason, there's just none of it at present.

Posted by Alder at 06 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (2)

I said in a previous post somewhere along the lines I would explain the Virgin Timewarp. First off I'll state that Virgin Trains are under pressure to deliver x million passenger miles for travel to its customers each year with the minimum of funding from HM Government and do a brilliant job with it. And now I can remove my tongue from my cheek I can get on with the puzzle that is known as "The Virgin Timewarp".

Sing along now, to the tune of the original "Timewarp" from the "The Rocky Horror Picture Show"

"It's just a train that's on time
With a 20 minute wa-a-a-a-a-ait"

From Edinburgh Waverley on a weekday evening there are two trains leaving close together both heading for Birmingham New Street. One at 16:52 and the other at 17:05. The first heading down the West Coast Mainline, the other taking the Cross Country route (heading down the East Coast Mainline to York, then heading inland). Recently the XC service was changed to go to Bristol Temple Meads, the rumour being too many people were getting the wrong train, and instead of going to Carlisle they found themselves in Newcastle. Muppets.

If for any reason the set that forms the 16:52 service is unavailable, Virgin reallocate the set to be used for the 17:05. Sometimes we never know this has happened. Sometimes I think they just don't have a set at all and the "Timewarp" comes into effect.

Carlisle's station clock:
A different timezoneOur intrepid train traveller arrives in plenty of time for the 17:05 XC departure only to find the train is not there. It usually is, as Edinburgh is the starting point. Alarm bells ring. Which train are we waiting for? And there it is, on the departures board, "17:05 Bristol TM - On Time, platform 7". On arrivals, the 17:13 arrival from Southampton due in on time is the next train at platofrm 7. Hmm, train timetabled to arrive at 13 minutes past, on time, due to turn round and form a 5 minutes past service, on time? Where have those 8 minutes gone? Not to mention the time it takes to empty the train completely and refill it, adding valuable minutes.

Those 8 minutes form the "Virgin Timewarp".

Posted by Alder at 04 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I never felt like I had a proper stretch of time off work with Junior's arrival. Work is hectic at the moment, there's a series of major projects on the go with a common, and very visible, deadline. And time will not slip just for the birth of one child, so I've been dialling in to work from home. The first day after the family came home I was in the office, with the rest of the week spent dialled-in part time. Needless to say the strains have been quite intense.

We've had an extraordinary amount from help from my mum in the first week that Junior was at home, which has given me the time to split myself between looking after the family and keeping a hand in at the office.

MOTS is getting more mobile after the section, but still needs help, and more to the point restraint. So her mum's coming up this week to keep her from lifting the things she shouldn't (anything heavier than Junior is off limits) while I'm at work. She's taken on so much more after the first couple of days home when junior was almost my exclusive domain, bar feeding. It does seem almost the opposite way around now, but with her trying to get back on her feet after major abdominal surgery I should be at home looking after the family rather than at work.

To be straight back at work after the arrival home was tough, eased slightly by getting remote access for the rest of the week. But going back full time after what's effectively been only a week off after the complications we had is hard - both physically and emotionally. Under normal circumstances I would have had 2 weeks paternity and taken 2 weeks holiday, but given my work situation that was never going to be possible.

I'll be glad when these projects are finished so I can get back to being an "in-between contracts" guy again.

Posted by Alder at 04 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (1)

We've had our first shopping trip out today with Junior, and it's amazing to see from the other side how ignorant some people really are.

I've always considered myself to at least try and be considerate towards others, and feel bad when I've made a bit of a faux par. But some others just seem to relish in their own indulgent egotistical sense of self importance.

Ikea, Costco and Sainsbury's. In all three we've had similar experiences. And those are:

• People trying to cut in fornt of you as if the pram doesn't exist
• People expecting you to move around them when they step in front of you, like the pram is so agile it can flex around human obstacles
• The old bloke parked in the parent and baby space, who laughed at me when I looked quizzically at his 60-odd year old passengers (three of them, no baby in sight)
• The bitch in a tank who pulled in the space the old bloke vacated, with nobody else in the 4x4
• The woman with two 8 / 9 year olds in the parent and baby spaces (like 8 & 9 year olds need a pushchair up the side of the car???)

Once upon a time I would have got annoyed, but I didn't. I suppose I have become accepting that in society now it's dog eat dog, and bugger anyone else. Disbaled spaces, parent and child spaces, they are there for a reason. Please respect them and don't abuse them. Learn to live together and play nice, eh?

Posted by Alder at 03 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (4)

At 11 days old, Junior had his first planned outing. Two of them to be precise.

The first was to watch the local football team get hammered by the visiting opponents, as is the norm for our side. However, the rain was just too much, and we never made it. We don't know if the game was even played, it really was wet.

I am really gutted about not being able to take my son to his first game of football, but common sense had to prevail and call it off due to the weather. Instead we stuck it out in the house, putting the central heating on for the first time this summer. I was really looking forward to teaching my son certain swear words while he's too young to repeat them (all in reference to the solo sexual antics of the referee), but it would seem the Scottish summer has delayed that for a short while.

Second on the social calendar, and I'm writing between engagements here, is a dinner party at Auntie Nic & Uncle Gav's place. This was a long standing arrangement based on MOTS being a couple of weeks late and going stir crazy, to get her out of the house. As it is Junior is here so will be attending his first function. This will, as always, be a roaring success, and thanks to NIc & Gav for their continuing help.

Posted by Alder at 02 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

The first week at home has been completed, but was it "successfully" completed? It depends on your exit criteria whether or not the week was a "success" or not. As we went into the week with no measure of success, then I suppose it has been by default.

He's Australian, I swear he is. Sleeping all day, crying all night. That was the procedure for the last couple of nights in hospital and the first couple at home. It’s trial and error in these early days, we have no idea what each of the cry types are, but are quickly learning them. The last couple of nights have been good, with sleeps between feeds going very well. The difference was in the bedding, slightly more than previously due to the temperature dropping quite a bit overnight. We tried a grobag but he didn’t take too kindly to the amount of space. Swaddling blanket with restrictions? Too little space. We can’t win.

We’re learning to live with each other, it’s as big a shock for junior as it is for us, having moved from a warm, cosy space with nutrition on a constant supply to this wide open space with room to move about, with food having to be demanded at regular intervals. There’s a whole new experience out here with hunger, daylight, people, being picked up, nipples, teats, clothes, nappies, breathing, wind, hiccups (actually the hiccups are nothing new, they were present on the inside too).

As they say, whoever they are, every day’s a school-day, and we’re learning as we go.

The only measure of success we had before we started was bathing. The golden advice was “as long as you don’t drown the baby, a clean baby is then a bonus”. In this respect we must be reasonable parents, we have one un-drowned baby, and a clean one at that. Unless you count the time he shat in his towel after his bath (twice, once with Grannie and once with daddy), pissed over his dad (once), pissed over his mum (twice) and just to show off pissed and puked over his dad (twice) at the same time. Yeah, rip-roaring success!

Posted by Alder at 01 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (4)

Now that my family have been home for a week I thought it was about time to get the homecoming written up. It was meant to be a joyous occasion, but as implied by the phrase "meant to be" I'm sure the seeds of doubt are there already - "errm wasn't it joyous then?"

No, it wasn't. It was about as joyous an occasion as a trip to the dentist for a root canal. So what went wrong?

Well, here I go, I dare to speak out and criticise the NHS not just as a body but also, despite the taboo, at individuals too. The midwifery care we got in the labour suite was faultless, the two midwives and student midwife we had for the 28 hours we had under the LDPR care worked so hard and were there constantly for us.

Then, on arrival at the ward, there was a marked difference. Granted, most of this was down to need, MOTS didn't need the constant care so it wasn't there. But what was there in its place was a "team" of midwives looking after a large number of mums, with no dedicated relationship management. Downstairs we knew WHO our midwife was, and she was responsible for us. Upstairs, any midwife could come along. And that caused problems.

Throughout the stay MOTS got conflicting advice on how the baby should be fed, techniques, increasing milk supply etc etc, even from midwives on the same shift. There was little accounting for being a week early and it was taking time for the milk supply to come along, that much was consistent. A lack of information resulted from the absence of a hierarchical care structure, the blue folder at the bottom of the bed, usually reserved for medics to add notes, contained forms that MOTS should have been filling in, but was never told.

Sara, our downstairs dayshift midwife popped in to see us. The star she is, she stomped off and got MOTS's notes and for the first time we found out what Iain's blood group was, and that MOTS had been medically discharged. Again, none of the ward staff had told her.

So Friday morning comes along, and I walk in proud as punch with the car seat and a couple of new purchases. MOTS was distraught rather than overjoyed. It all came down to a midwife who had not been on shift earlier in the week who wanted to keep them in until Saturday at the earliest to keep an eye on feeding. After a heated discussion MOTS made her position clear - if it was feeding alone that was keeping them in she was, from that moment on, going 100% formula and going home.

The midwife backed down and started the discharge papers, but wanted to see us feeding still. During a feed I went in search of her to be told she'd gone home to do a nightshift. She hadn't popped in to say she was going, nor had told anyone else we were expecting to see her. NOT impressed at all.

By 5pm the discharge papers had been completed, the checks were down, leaflets handed over, birth card completed, and name bands checked by two midwives in two directions (baby then mother, mother then baby). So with one tearful wife and one sleeping child, we left like it was a convict getting parole rather than a family starting out of life's big journey.

One person ruined the experience. Nothing to do with the NHS as a body, under resourced, staff excellent and whatever other politically correct clichés you fancy. One person ruined the experience.

MOTS had to do what was best for her baby, and getting him out of that ward with the constant pressure to keep him quiet and to keep on the breast was the best thing.

What the ward needs is a named midwife who has primary care for the mums and babies, so if a mum needs a midwife then she gets the same one throughout a shift where possible. That alone would reduce the conflicting advice that was so much of a problem for MOTS, and make it more like downstairs in the LDPR.

Posted by Alder at 01 September 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)