I'm a dad. Not 100% feeling it just yet, but when I got to the hospital this morning I was excited to see him. Cycling home last night though, the panic mixed emotion did give rise to the tempting thought that I could just keep cycling and put off the future... But I'm well pleased I didn't, he was really quite gorgeous.
I cycled into the hospital in the morning and found Dr K with Mr Sir having survived the night. He was sleepy but had managed to latch for some feeding attempts. He'd also done a good few meconium poos. Pretty soon it was time to change his nappy again. (not my first time; I'd given him his first nappy with the help of the midwife the night last night after his initial mec explosion that happened skin-to-skin on Dr K [such tar]). In fact I noticed him as it happened and when I checked there was an epic amount of black sticky mess. This cleaned up fairly nicely and soon a new clean shiny nappy was on ready to go on. And with perfect timing the gates of Mordor oozed forth its sticky goo all over the clean nappy. A second clean and finally we were there with a fully nappied baby.
Lots of things happened over the day. We were expecting to be discharged, but eventually it was clear they wanted Dr K in for extra monitoring. Tests were done before I'd arrived, and then his hearing while I was there. I's held him as Dr K nipped out for some lunch. Pretty much he just slept while the sun shone outside and we just rested with him (I had a bit of a migraine, but not unexpected due to the trauma of yesterday, frankly I'm fairly confident he must have had one too having seen his head crushed like a Toblerone as he was born). This evening, after celebrating his first 24 hours de-wombed, I was back home with the cat, had some dahl and fixed the TV.
Some of the things I've learnt today include that the way I curl up in bed is a remnant of my gestation and early life. I woke this morning from a dream in which it wasn't clear if that I had not just been born, my arms were up round my head just like Mr Sir has arms. The second, rather intimate, discovery is that it turns out it is completely normal to have that strange linear scar-type line down the length of my penis. Either that or it's genetic. And I was even prouder of Dr K for coping so well with his feeding and care, she looked like a proper mum, it was incredible. My first message from her this morning was to say how she's spent a good part of the wee small hours simply adoring him - my heart oozed a bit like Mr Sir's rear, but in a good way.