Showing posts with label nappies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nappies. Show all posts

Monday, 8 February 2010

The Final Countdown

Oh yes, there are just 9 more days to go and this household is getting nervous.

Over the last week there have been a few scares and pains from the remaining fibroid and we are getting nervous that things may start early but other than that there are no warning signs. Bags are packed at the ready and my phone is constantly on, waiting for a call.

The week kicked off well as the delivery of the 'heavy' items arrived from Mamas & Papas which included the pram, the car seat and cot as well as the isofix base unit. There was also the mattress for the cot and the whole thing looks bigger than expected and may test the roominess of our baby room. I have committed to work up to Monday of next week and then it is 3 weeks off to savour the early days of our baby. After a long, long wait over many years, it's hard to believe that this is all really coming true. After so many setbacks and disappointments, we are still not counting our chickens and so we are tempering excitement with the calmness of those used to let downs. But now we are well beyond 37 weeks and little can go wrong - or so we hope.

We met with our NCT class mates last Friday and the ladies were all visibly larger than 10 days earlier and there was a growing feeling of trepidation and excitement for all the dads. They are a genuinely lovely group and we look forward to being a part of it for a long time. A young couple, Jess and Allen, were due on Sunday but as yet no word. We are due next although we may get beaten by a couple new to the area, Stuart and Rachel. Then, in quick succession, come the rest. It could be either one massive 'baby's head wetting party' or several - either way I think there will be lots of proud mums and dads.

As expected and pointed out before, we are the oldest of the group by far but the bonding is more about the impending birth rather than a focus on age and that's really quite reassuring and nice. All of us are from very different backgrounds but by coincidence two of the ladies work in offices near my wife's while we are all linked by area. The whole NCT experience has been great for getting to know one another.

The final class had been on the subject of breast feeding and I assumed that this had little to do with the dad. Far from it. Clearly, we dads have an important role in keeping the mum on a routine and helping her cope through a fairly sleepless early period. Also, I think there is a role for me as chief nappy changer so that short course at the last NCT class will come in handy but the thought of a wriggling, weeing real baby poses a few more problems than the plastic dolly.

I suppose when you don't know about these things you just make simple assumptions. The baby will naturally want milk and therefore will find a nipple and get cracking. If only life were that simple. We were given a short lesson in the modern techniques by a mid-wife with fine credentials of her own (if you know what I mean, men). Holding the baby in the right position was a revelation obvious when you thought about it but a mystery to me beforehand. Addressing the nipple was not as I remember it, lads, and the baby has some important techniques to learn which may pay dividends in later life. Then we found out that rates of flow of milk can be different and the baby may draw less or more resulting in the body varying its production. We understood that 'expressing milk' was not a reference to a bloke arriving on a logo'd milk float but the mother inducing milk without the baby and storing it. A pumping device is used (or by hand) and I had thought it more appropriate to an Ann Summers shop rather than Boots but you live and learn.

Several men had important yet daft questions - we all now so little in reality. For instance, if you store expressed milk, should you note the time and day on the bottle and then try and match that when you actually feed the baby with it as milk produced at different times of the day has different constituents. A good question but too technical for our course leader who said just give them the milk and be done with it. I liked that simple approach.

Attitudes to breast feeding have changed. It is common place to see women feeding in public whereas growing up I can't ever recall such an occurrence. My wife is not the type to 'strip off' in public but she plans to have no issue with uncovering and feeding wherever she may be. Some people get offended by it and, to be honest, I don't know what I am going to feel about my wife baring parts of her top half but it is the most natural thing of all. Given we watch plenty of titillating, half naked women most nights on TV, I can't see what there is to get upset about - even if you are having your pie and chips at the time. I may be a grumpy old man, but at least I am a modern grumpy old man.

One thing I had not really understood was why we had bought so many nappies in advance of the birth. I mean, it's only small, how much excretion can a tiny baby do? Apparently a great deal. If the baby feeds every two hours in the first few weeks then the poor mite has to be changed after every feed. That's a lot of pee, poo, smells and nappy bags. I can see our investment in a nappy bin or two is required. I can also see plenty for me to do in that department.

People have been incredibly generous and so warm hearted in the run up to this baby. My sister-in-law arrived with a a whole kit of clothes, a toy and a tidy box with a complete start up set for a new born including nappies, baby oil, creams, wipes, Calpol (newborn) and more. It was so touching. A colleague of my wife's sent around a spare car seat and pram which was fantastic, while a couple arrived for a cup of tea last week and brought us a lovely pair of moccasin booties which we had to get back from the dogs who eyed them up as toys. We have been asked to produce a list for other family members and friends which I found curious but now we have a small list including a 'Glo Egg' lamp, a timer to help us keep a regime, a Bumbo rubber seat for the baby, a BabyBjorn carrier and a sling for lugging the baby around amongst a small amount of other stuff while recent parents have offered 'hand me downs' like toys and the like. We feel very humble.

Others have rung up just to offer support and help should we need it. Perhaps they know something I don't, but I am grateful for the offer anyway. It's all very appreciated. Maybe we are getting special treatment for being older parents or that people understand it is a special one for us after so long waiting - it doesn't matter, we have both been blown away by the generosity and well-wishing from all quarters.

I am glancing at my watch more often now, checking time and date. The big day looms and kicks off Monday with a visit to the anaesthetist and then it is plain sailing from there. The dogs are getting nervy of late and we saw a change in temperament from both over the weekend. Again, we are not sure they know something that we don't but they have become very nervous and little more clingy of late. Perhaps because they are walked less at the moment or they sense hormonal changes or whatever. It's going to be a big change for those two so it may be as well that they are sensing things are different. Let's hope that's for the better.

I shall try and keep a more regular log of the countdown but it's T-minus 9 days and counting. All systems nominal, as they say in the movies. Whatever that may mean.

Wednesday, 9 December 2009

How To Be A Dad

It can't be that be that difficult, surely? What's the worst that can happen?

It has always been my easy-going view that parenting can't be that hard. After all, my parents seemed to thrive on the whole thing - my sister does now. My wife and I look after our 3 nephews regularly and we never have any real problems - the advantage being that we always get to give them back. I've even read a fine book on it from a bloke's viewpoint - all very technical but no curve balls. Pah, there's nothing to it.

Then we had the details arrive of joining for an NCT course in January. Suddenly, it struck me - I'm going to be a dad. Yes, I had gone through the middle-age crisis bit of it - first time dad at 50, but this was reality striking home. The NCT, a superb parenting charitable organisation, offers a 4 session course, one of which I don't have to attend as it is solely on breast feeding - one of the many pieces in the jigsaw of parenting that I cannot contribute to. The other 3 sessions are full day ones.

It's fair to say that I am scared. The little mite boots away at its mum's internals nightly causing her discomfort and interrupted sleep. She is the one who has had to deal with fibroids degenerating and the excruciating pain it caused, the phantom contractions that left in her in hospital for two nights, the tragedy of no clothes fitting anymore and the awesome responsibility of working out which colour the walls need to be painted. I joke little - I'm a spare part for most of this.

As the birth date looms, I now have to train myself to be a decent, responsible parent. I have to confess, I have only once attempted to change a nappy - if it had been filmed it would have made compulsory viewing for anyone handling radioactive materials. The result was that the baby had to be bathed as effluent got everywhere and the gaps between the seal and skin meant that pressurised effluvia was jetting to all parts of the room. As first attempts go, I am sure it was not bad but it had a lasting effect on me.

One of the biggest things I fear is having to work with a dummy baby. I have seen couples wheeling prams with model babies inside and secretly scoffed - they clearly were the dunces of the ante-natal classes in my ignorant view. Now the reality is that I actually need to get my hands on one of them and work out how to properly wind the brutes and attach nappies secure enough to stop escape of seepage while not cutting off the circulation to the legs. What about the routines, the night time crying, bathing, feeding, etc. I am going to have to swallow all my stupid preconceived ideas and knuckle down to training to be a decent father at the very basics.

That's just when the poor thing arrives - just imagine a dolt like me trying to teach it to work, speak or read. First things first, though.

They say you can't teach and old dog tricks - well this old bowser is going to learn a few.

Wednesday, 25 November 2009

The Aftermath

It's been a good 18 months since I last graced the insides of a gym, possibly longer.

I am actually pleased with the fact I made the supreme effort to go - getting up early is never an issue, it was the psychological barrier of getting over threshold of the gym's entrance. This morning I actually did it.

Seven painful minutes on the rowing machine made my chest hurt, then 30 minutes on the 'Fat Burning' program on the cross trainer was actually bearable although the tautness in my calf muscles could fire an arrow. Then I finished off on the weight machines which I thought would be easy but it actually felt like Superman pushing a train. I managed to make it back to the changing room before collapsing, avoiding passing out in front of the pretty blond girl on the running nachine by a whisker. I was always super-organised when I used to gym regularly and I was horrified to find I was several items short in my wash bag including my favourite body wash and toothpaste (I always have a quick shower and brush my teeth before I go to the gym out of courtesy to others, thankfully). So I have already given myself one stern warning for the day, next one is a potential yellow card and I will have to stand in the car park for 10 minutes.

There is a refreshing short walk across the car park from the gym to the office which helps cool you down - that's a bonus as when I start to sweat it takes a while to stop. However, climbing two flights of stairs and greeting people through gritted teeth was hard - the lift looks a better bet in the future but that is surely giving in to age. Sitting at my desk, I am waiting for the pain to start but apart from a rawness in the chest akin to breathing in noxious fumes, I actually feel ok if tired, although I slept like a baby last night.

My wife and I have been remiss about going to ante-natal classes and our discussion last night centred round this - what if there is no time between now and the end of February to go? When I tried to allay her fears by saying, 'How hard can it be?' she turned her back and huffed. Good point, well made.

I have been reading little books about the subject of men and pregnancy but none have really given the kind of training I need. The truth is, while I have cleared up umpteen messes after children and animals, I have not changed a nappy. I have winded babies before now but I know nothing of the regiment and routine required. These are some of the things I fear. What if I forget to feed the baby or fail to wake up when it's crying? What if I put the nappy on wonkily? What if the milk is too cool? What if the dogs take a dislike to it or get jealous? What if Wales lose on Saturday?

You get my point? I haven't yet acclimatised myself to the rigours of fatherhood and I can feel it heading at me like an unstoppable freight train.

Pah! If I can summon the will power to get back in the gym, I can crack this fatherhood business. Can't I?