Poo

Not wanting to be neither too disgusting, nor too proud a dad, but today was my Son's first poo on the potty. Yesterday he accidentally did a wee when I sat him on it. But today we managed a number two! I was well chuffed. In fact I was a proud dad because I took this photo. Sorry.

yes, there is poo on my website

Wiping Away Snot - Never Felt More Like a Dad

The little chap has a cold. Or rather, a cold is all he has left after about three weeks of various infections picked up through cross contaminated toys at the local playgroup. It started with a fever reaching 38 degrees and lasting enough days to get us worried enough to ring the vet. Thankfully patience + Calpol were enough to see us through his temperature which finally abated leaving him with a cough quickly joined by conjunctivitis (an itis! - I'd forgotten about those). He battled through despite the clammy eyes and red face although his sleeping was shot to pieces (as was ours). The eyes cleared as did the general face redness and now his cough is finally improving but his nose decided to join the party and leak continuously. I'm finally pleased to see that the leaking has turned thicker and greener following the usual pattern of my runny noses suggesting it is nearly over as well. Fingers crossed he'll be clean by Christmas as will we be having both suffered most of his symptoms (my temp reached 38.6).

The cutest thing in all of this, apart from his remarkably good spirit throughout (the daytimes), is that I feel like a proper Dad when I wipe his nose. It's been so sweet teaching him that my actions are helpful and now he is really calm as I wring out his nostrils, holding his head up to help.

2015-12-09

Fatherhood Without A Dad

And you though the last post was a weepy.
People have asked me how does it feel to be a dad and I sometimes reply, if I think they're really asking, that it's a little melancholic, just shy of depressing. Wonderful of course, that goes without saying, and I have to say that our little chap is just a total treasure and such a poppet - he's so good at sleeping that I'm sometimes tempted to wake him up just to say hello in the evening. However, there is a definite sadness that parenthood brings.
One aspect is the whole 'circle of life' completing the first turn of the wheel, about which I will save for another time. Another sadness is that I'm going through this without a Dad of my own. Ground truth here: I have a tremendous stepfather and have been loved and supported by many other men as I grew up. But none of these are my biological Dad as he sadly died when I was just 2.
I only have really one memory of my Dad which for a long time I had no idea was of him, as he was ill in hospital having undergone chemotherapy and I just had this memory of an old man throwing Malteasers out of an office block window. My am I thankful for that tiny glimpse of him now, but as I look at my little boy I realise that no matter how much love I give him now, if I were to die he'd simply not remember me at all and would similarly be cast into life with only half an explanation for why he is like he is. This is slightly more prevalent as last week I was sitting in the oncology unit at Addenbrooks waiting to see a specialist in lymphoma due to these ongoing night sweats. His opinion was that I've probably not got it owing to only this one apparent symptom, and there are other slightly less nasty nasties that can cause that (a range of virus / diseases), but if he was wrong then it didn't look promising.
So here I am, albeit not quite going through the exact same thing (yet?) as he must have gone though, but simulating things at least with the prospect of dying and leaving my son behind. Yes, those who know me might be shouting "oh no, not again, you've been banging on about dying your entire life", and yes, they're right, I have. But then there is that Spike Milligan headstone quote "I told you I was ill" which springs to mind.
It occurred to me that I'd never really considered what my dad would have thought about me as he was ill, would he have cuddled me and kissed me and told me he'd miss me? He must have. What was going through his mind, what sadness at the loss, not only of his own life but of seeing ours too? My God, the the thing that most puts me off death is not the dying but the missing out on life, and now I get to miss out on all his future days too. Bloody hell, that's an awful prospect. Meanwhile I was so young and so oblivious to life that I just got on with growing up in our special small family. Kids really are so adaptable. Noted the years of issues I've gone through probably as a direct result of the trauma at such an age and it goes without question to point out that my Mum did an amazing job with us, we had a wonderful childhood.
When we first discovered our bump was a boy, and not the girl I had hoped for, Su wisely noted that this would mean I could experience all those things that my dad would have had with me. What a precious gift, and how right she was. Now his gender is not even a thing, he is just my child, but he is my son and I am his dad. Lets assume/hope that I'm not dying and I'll get to see him grow up - I have a chance to teach him to be a boy and a man which is odd when I think of myself more as a mum. My loss has left me without a strong point of reference for how to be a man myself, so how do I teach him, or is it that we learn together?
At the weekend Su remarked at how different he is with me, perhaps because I give him a different type of interaction than she does. So perhaps it's natural and inbuilt. That was lovely to hear, and it was the first time I'd thought that perhaps I was a father. Gosh, when he first calls me dad (or daddy perhaps - mine was always daddy), that will be something. So to my daddy, whose birthday is today, thank you for starting me out in life and for those sadly unremembered years of love you gave me. I miss you but I find you in me more than ever as I look at my son, named after you.

2015-08-25

I can certainly see myself in his eyes

Saturday was a good day. The little chap had been pretty grizzly for most of Thursday and Friday so we were a little worn out by Saturday but hopeful that it was a growth spurt and as such he would be calmed down. This seemed to be the case, either that or he was so worn out by the crying that he needed a good days sleep. Dr K cycled off early to yoga for the first time since birth and I was left solo with him to head down later by bus. Thankfully there was a bottle of expressed milk in the fridge as a backup in case things kicked off, which they did a little and it calmed him down enough to slip him into a milk coma and for me to slip him into the sling. I then braved the horror that is Stagecoach paying £4.10 for the privileged of what would turn out to be a one way ticket.
We met up at midsummer common for the 42nd CAMRA Cambridge Beer Festival and slowly enjoyed a lunch of sandwiches (bread baked in the morning with rocket from the driveway) then joined by friends with black bean balls, chocolates and other delicacies. Meanwhile I enjoyed a range of beers in 1/3 pints meaning that over the course of the 8 hours we spent there I consumed under 2 whole pints. The weather gradually warmed up and I got out my camera trying out the new 35mm prime lens that Dr K had picked up from John Lewis for me. That gave the first image blow, the second of me is from the phone.

reflection in my child's eye

celebrating an early towel day at the 42nd Cambridge beer festival
2015-05-23

Last Day of my #paternity leave

Technically the final day pf my paternity leave was some time last week, but I&apso;ve taken holiday days to cover until this week as Dr K&apso;s mum is visiting us for two weeks from this weekend so thought that would tie in quite nicely. I can believe that this time with my son is nearly up. Two weeks is FAR too short, criminally so if you ask me, and I have heard that the Lib Dems have a manifesto pledge to up that to six weeks. I can see why &apso;the average man&apso; (or at least the average man of a bygon era) would only want to take a couple of weeks off work, if that, purely due to the sleeplessness of those early nights. But now men want to be involved in their children. Children are meant to be seen and be heard. I don&apso;t believe I am alone, even if I am a bit of a feminine brained male.
That&apso;s not to say I can&apso;t see why men would want to go back to work. I appreciate that the idea of an adult only world where the issues are (typically) not emotional based is a comfort for the masculine brained among us. Also the 9-5 nature of work is a simple framework which gives &apso;men&apso; a simple format for coping. Parental life is very much more ad hoc, coming and going with the wind and the whims of this little creature which obeys no one.
Parenting favours a feminine, multi-tasking brain, one that can flit between trying to make a cup of tea and then pick up a crying baby and then wash last nights dishes and then sweep the floor and then change a nappy before getting back to the tea to discover it&apso;s gone cold and you need to make a new one. This has happened many times, more than I can remember in the past three weeks. Kettles filled and heated then left to go cold (a shameful environmental crime). Coffee half made. Cake half eaten. But I&apso;ve really enjoyed this, just getting on and doing some jobs, whatever and whenever to cope. It&apso;s been a real challenge but a lot of fun too. Work won&apso;t be quite the same even if I am looking forward to seeing my colleagues and getting my future products into realisation.
2015-05-01

Third Sunday

So the observant among you will see that there has been a fair few days since my last post. Two weeks in fact (and the one earlier today was also about the first Sunday). Turns out that as I said parenting is Tough. That first Friday evening was glorious, with my son asleep on my legs we ate fish and chips and felt so content. I tweeted proudly that we were doing well at parenting and it wasn&apso;t as hard as we were expecting. A tweet too soon. That evening was hard work with crying and Dr K feeling pretty work out with feeding the Milk Monster.
This same story has repeated itself on and off with surprising regularity. One day feeling frankly on top of the world (not in a Sound of Music way, but rather a quiet peacefulness), then that night a nightmare of broken sleep, screaming child and explosive poo. Bit of an exaggeration, we&apso;ve not experienced the explosive poo, and any poo that arrives during a change I count as a bonus - one less nappy wasted (a noisy squirt minutes into a new nappy is a tragedy).
The effect has almost reached a creepy point where within seconds of me feeling that I&apso;ve finally got him to sleep, or soothed his fear he kicks off. Or he will have been asleep in the sling for 30 minutes, but just as I decide to sit and read the newspaper he wakes with a gargling cry. He also has this exceedingly annoying habit of looking utterly charming in front of other people so all we hear is how adorable he is and what a calm quiet baby we have and how lucky we should count ourselves. Advice to people: never assume that the contented baby you spot out and about is not an utter nightmare when home at night just after the shops shut and there is no possibility of escape until morning.
Today was another case in point with Mr Sir enjoying (read seeping through) his third Histon service. Three of three - 100% track record of looking sweet at church. Well done him. Yet again he was cooed over and cuddled by a few of the ladies (churches are fantastic), before a quick feed and home. This comes after yesterday which was the toughest yet. The night had been bad with multiple hour bouts of screaming which the continued all morning, afternoon and evening. I had got myself into a panic that he had cerebral palsy, the only explanation for his repeated arm movements and face grabbing. Then his breathing was sounding ropey - a chest infection? We had rung the out-of-hours number at night given that non of the midwives or health visitors are available on call, but they didn&apso;t seem too concerned. In the morning I walked him to the local GP for advice, but got little help. The Health Visitors apparently don&apso;t work weekends either. I was in a tiz, seeing every flinch as a bad sign of our impending life as full time carers. Would we? Could we? By the evening I was destroyed and I&apso;d taken a toll on Dr K&apso;s morale. It concluded with a long and tearful peSky call to Nana in Devon who comforted and reassured. A little later, with a fresh set of eyes and new air in our lungs we sat down to finish watching Collateral, me with my son in arm, asleep hands clasped together at peace. I often need a good cry, to release the mix of emotional confusion on my inside and breath in a new hope, like the dawn of a new day.
I am truly thankful for the love that we have been shown. So many people have sent cards and gifts, their love and best wishes. We&apso;ve had a beautiful shawl and cellular blanket knitted for us as well as tops and socks. We&apso;ve also been so blessed to have enjoyed some most fabulous and uplifting weather these past few weeks.
2015-04-26

Public speaking at emotional times is not my strong point

To say I'm weepy at the moment is an understatement. I was on the skype to Mum last night in a veritable flood of tears. This parenting gig is tough.
Now any of you who were at my wedding ceremony in Cheltenham will know all to well that I have a tendency for the odd tear or two when faced with the task of speaking at a celebration. Well two weeks ago, on Mr Sir's first Sunday (when Nana was also visiting) I was on the rota to do the Church readings. I had practised the reading first thing that morning, reading to him lying in my arms and tears came rolling down my face splashing onto his. By half ten Dr K was giving a feed so Nana and I went along and took up a pew ahead. I went up to the front to do the first reading and stayed for the hymn between the two readings. All fine, Dr K had not made it yet - perhaps they'd not make it in time, which was a shame as I'd hoped to have him there. During that intervening hymn I felt myself going, trembling, failing to get some of the lines out. I was taken back to my Mum's wedding and the reading I did - I was again in floods of tears the hymn before (and probably during the reading too, though I can't fully remember that). Things were not looking good for my second reading. I got up to the lecturn and turned round to see that Dr K had arrived at the back with a swaddle of my son. I was a gone. I struggled through, broken, faltering, welled up with the joy and realisation of being a dad, resonating with the love that Jesus had for his disciples (the reading was about Thomas).
After the service we were greeted by so many of our church family. At 5 days old it was pretty special to have him there and he behaved like a little star, looking frankly angelic asleep in our arms. Most of the ladies admitted that they were equally in sympathy tears as I 'read' - a comment mirrored at my wedding, crying is clearly an effect I have on women. Amusement aside I was so honoured to do that reading and have him there, safe and well after a nine month journey (with a longer 2.5 year journey before that).
Following the service and coffee Nana drove us to the Rosie for a midwife weight check. All good - weight up and heal prick blood test done (returned all clear). We then went to Waitrose for his introduction to nice super market shopping (and only his second ever shop experience after our local greengrocer).

Welcome to Waitrose shopping
2015-04-26

First whole day with a son at home.

A lovely day was had by all. It was magical. We both just had a fantastic day with our son. Nappy changes, plenty of skin to skin time (I just love it, and he seems to copy with my hairy body to [frankly he's pretty hairy too, like a little baby gorilla]), cuddles bounces. A very kind midwife came for our day three check-up including weighing and general advice. Mr Sir's weight had dropped to 3.08 kg - a loss of 9.9%, just within acceptable limits. She also observed he was a tad on the yellow side, something that I'd put down to his Asian ancestry, but apparently not. The midwife went off to collect a machine that goes ping (to test for jaundice) so we took the opportunity for some daylight and a feed outside. The test proved that he's half way to the safety threshold but fine for now. In the evening we went for a walk to see the ducks on the green in the village and then home via the chip shop (as it is Friday). I was a little excited to introduce him to them but the look on their faces was a sight, in China mothers and babies (but especially mothers) do not go outside for the first month, and there were were in a chip shop ordering fish and chips. Oh dear. The evening was spent cooing on twitter.
2015-04-10

Day two, much change - he has eyes!

Day two and things were less clear. When I arrived at the hospital this morning after a glorious sunny cycle down via Boots to pick up some nipple cream Mr Sir was a different person. Eyes were open, one better than the other, and he was much more active. Perhaps yesterday was a fluke. He wasn't crying super hard, but just occasionally and I was able to settle him a few times. But certainly the demand level had increased - it wasn't going to be quite as easy as about which I'd first caught a hope's glimmer.
More tests today including his other ear which had still been blocked the day before and he was jabbed with a BCG vaccination due to our Eastern risk factor. Eventually we were discharged and our recently birthed friend came to pick us up as she had a car seat installed. I cycled back via a couple of errands to pick up some supplied from Seoul Plaza. When I got home Dr K was feeding upstairs in our newly created landing. It was such a joy to behold, my wife and child at home.
After his feed, as the sun was just beginning to set I stole him away and popped outside to show him the garden for the first time. To be frank I can't say he was that interested, but I'm sure we can work on his gardening instincts. Having been round the garden twice (it is only tiny after all) I followed my urge to show him the neighbours magnolia which has just exploded into flower. Pretty soon we were visiting my favourite garden center (Histon Plant Sale) and then it was all the way round the block. I later explained to Dr K that this was his favourite walk - I suspect this is how parenting starts: you simply make stuff up about your child, some true and others become true. I must admit, and I doubt this will surprise anyone of you who know me (and particualy annyone who went to my wedding), that I cried all the way round. It was lovely. Actually lovely doesn't cut it, it was perfect, it was joy. Yep, joy. Transcendent happiness, like the feeling God must have for humanity. The love of a father, Oh dear typing this and I've gone again.
2015-04-09

First 24 hrs and sleep is clearly on the cards.

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.
2015-04-08

A son is born.

He is here. My little son, born this evening at 17:29 by a mum with only a paracetamol taken four hours previous. Our midwife Hannah was really good, she was quote blunt and strong willed but pushed us through it and got our chap born without any tareing. Massive joy and I was weeping uncontrollably as he was brought out and up for his first skin to skin cuddle. Incredible experience, challenging, but Dr K really just did a fabulous job. Wow. Our little chap, Mr Sir, is a bit of a cutie. More to come no doubt (will try not to drone on too much like a soppy first time dad).
2015-04-07

labour is well established; good lord this is intense

Dr K is in labour. E by gum this is heavy. But she is doing really really well. Lots of breathing out, quite a bit of horsey noises and at times almost meditative. Looking like it will be today. I'd just like to say good luck, we're all counting on her.
2015-04-07

One more night of silence.

No progress was made on the birthing today other than a natural course of things. Instead a day spent outside in the delicious first warm day of spring. It was just so fulfilling to be out all day. Then in the evening I went down to the hospital to visit Dr K and we walked out along a footpath she had explored earlier. There we sat, eating some nut bibimbap and watching a rather splendid sunset; the sun sinking behind the trees on the horizon. Perhaps the one (?) advantage of a flat landscape, it was a bit like an ocean sunset. Glorious, sitting there together as a couple on perhaps the final day of this previous life, we felt so happy.
Now it's another night back home for me and then work tomorrow. Bit weird as I was hoping to be on holiday now (by holiday I mean paternity leave). Hopefully I can be a little productive while I wait for any news. The next stage is to break the waters which should encourage a natural labour, but that could still take another 24 hrs. Unlikely, I suspect, seeing as how things are progressing, but then you never know. There's a three ladies in the wait and over the bank holiday I think they've been quite happy for them not to go into labour. Tomorrow might be a little different with the Doctors back in force.
I'm super proud of Dr K already and feel ready now for this next step. I shall miss the quiet and miss the bump, the sleep too as well as our peaceful shared current life (and when I express this I see concerned look on peoples faces followed by their urge to try and convince me I'm wrong and that it will be fabulous), but I definitely feel I have made the full journey from doubt and worry to preparation and... I was going to say excitement, that's not quite right, not exactly excitement but rather perhaps 'peace'. Still, should get to sleep and some rest before it's all change please, all change.
2015-04-06

Digging while I wait

Not wanting to let a glorious (exceedingly rare) Bank Holiday Monday go to waste, and while still waiting for Dr K to give me the call to come in (still not yet), I've dug over the vegetable patch in preparation for... for... well, perhaps for growing some vegetables. Quite how conducive having a baby is to vegetable growing I can't yet know. But here's hoping for some planning opportunities ahead and even some shared bonding - father and son in the garden. I guess for a year or so it will be mostly me doing all the work. I wonder if I can have him in the sling while I dig?

gardening in labour limbo
2015-04-06

Getting close now. Was that my final good night sleep?

I left Dr K in the hospital last night as there is no accommodation for partners (and also there is not much for me to do yet). I came home ate and, after sorting out my Toppy PVR which was having a channel crisis and installing the update to MyStuff 6.6 TAP I went to bed. I slept. I woke. A glorious morning met my eyes (far beyond the expectation of the BBC Weather forecast) - is this the day that I become a Dad for real? Update is that Dr K wasn't induced in the end, but looks like she's slipping into labour naturally (hurrah for the collective intuition of her and the staff nurse who decided to temper the doctors desire to push on). Labour is not established yet, and while I wait for the call in I can recharge my batteries a little out here in the garden in the glorious sunshine. I've taken our visiting cat for a walk round the garden - literally on a leash, I've not let him loose as I really don't want him to escape and wonder back to his owner's place.
2015-04-06

April

One minute past midnight and Dr K says she has possibly just had a show. Other than it being perhaps the oddest (and in some way creepiest) medical terminology, it could also mean that I'll be a dad by the end of the day. Am I really ready for this? I haven't got the shelving up yet... Yikes.
2015-04-01

Dr Nick is no more, I am Uncle Nick now.

This morning at 8:30, unbeknownst to me I became an uncle. While I was mixing a batch of our own blend Daily Bread crunchy muesli, I received a text from my brother saying that their little boy had been born. A smile literally grew across my face, I could feel it, right from one side of my face to the other, I am an uncle, my brother a dad. (OK, writing that just made me well up).
Apparently the whole thing had happened in only 5 hours from waters to birth and without any medication! Wow, Totes incredible and dead amaze. I am really impressed by my sister-in-law, what a woman, and I feel so happy for my brother. Their life has now changed, a new dawn. (stopping due to well-up potential - will write later.)
Well done Dr Chris. I love you too.
2015-02-28