Name on The Register

Yesterday, our son was formally registered as having been born.

The morning started as normal but as the time neared I felt a lot of excitement about formally announcing to the officials-that-be that we now have a son and what his name is. I don't know why I felt like that, it's not as if Gordon Brown is going to put a call in to congratulate us or even, for that matter, the Mayor of Watford (if one exists). But it means our son has officially arrived and he has a genuine Birth Certificate for us all to lose at some point in his life.

Registering a Birth is a slightly stuffy affair. You have to call up and book an appointment with the registrar. I did so and the earliest time I got was two days forward. It's an old building with decent parking and I competed for attention with a wedding which was going on upstairs, though quite how they were going to get the elderly gentleman with a walking stick who had trouble with the shallow steps outside up there I was not sure. I was ushered in very swiftly and the nice man sat me down (no tea offered, none expected frankly) and he turned his computer screen to me. First he checked my wife's name and date she gave birth and picked off the fact that Watford General had recorded the birth on the system. We then went through a series of questions to ascertain addresses, where the parents were born and what we did for a living and then on to formally recording the name of our son.

The curious thing for me was that no real verification was required - I brought along the maternity records and red health book issued by the hospital, I even took my wife and I's passports. But none of that was asked for - registering a birth is a very simple matter, hardly requiring official input at all, in my opinion. When he asked if I wanted any copies and I told him 10, he did raise his eyebrows.

"10?" he asked. "Why so many?"

"We are a forgetful family," I replied. It was partly true but I was planning on sending some to relatives too - God knows why.

I understood why he was concerned. The poor chap had to individually print, sign and date each copy with his old fountain pen. It took a while and in total it cost £35 (£3.50 a copy).

Scott Edward exists. It's official. And we had a quiet sip of rose sparkly stuff to celebrate with our chicken risotto for tea.

Sleep Patterns

I should really label this as simply lack of sleep rather than sleep patterns as they are non-existent.

I have tried to ensure that mum gets her sleep and particularly calms down on doing things to make sure she is healing properly after the C-Section delivery. It's hard to understand it but it is major intrusive surgery that goes right through many important layers of membranes and muscles and so healing is not simple. In order to do this, I have tried to take on as much of the night duties as I can. Last night, mum noticed that I am getting really tired and, unusually for me, I have been struck by a heavy cold which is making me feel more run down. So she tried to handle things until about 2am but I found that the slightest noise would wake me and I would be up like a shot. It doesn't help that baby Scott has turned out to be fairly nocturnal. As I write, he is sound asleep after a good feed around 12.30pm and will be fitful when put in the basket at night even though he is perched on top of a DooMoo bean bag which he finds really comfortable.


I have found a few websites which cover the subject called Parent Fatigue Syndrome which is quite common, obviously. There are several which also give some handy tips for trying to cope with it and usually they come in the forms of '6 Tips to avoid tiredness' and similar. In some cases they reckon it could drive parents potty but for me it's just a numbing tiredness that makes you want to do no more than focus on your baby and that alone gives you the energy to survive.


Tonight we are going to try shifts where one of us looks after baby until 2am and then the other takes over with the sleeping person in the spare room. I have volunteered for the first shift as I think there is football on the TV tonight (European Champions League) so that should keep me awake, possibly. I hope this breaks the cycle of sleeplessness as it is the only down side in what has been an amazing first week.


On the dog front, and following on from yesterday, the female dog popped up and gently sniffed the baby as I watched carefully. She made no contact and just looked before walking away. I hope these are good signs along with their behaviour yesterday. The baby, for his part, seems fascinated by the big shapes that loom in his view and the occasional barking when the doorbell goes. Then again, he should be used to that as he has had 9 months in the womb to listen to those sounds.


We have had some more visitors and we were really touched when one of our neighbours popped in with a shawl with Scott's name embroided onto it. It was powerfully touching as his wife is direly ill at the moment and taking time to think of us was incredible.

Then again, we have been so deeply touched by the generosity of so many close family and friends that we are no longer surprised.

Meet The Dogs

It had been a worry for us - how would our dogs react to a new member of the family? And one that will upset the hierarchy at that.

As the pregnancy progressed, it was important to make sure the dogs didn't dive on my wife as they are apt to do, so we have definitely been different with them. They have also sensed a change, perhaps they pick up changes in hormones or sensitivities but they have certainly been different of late. Since the baby has arrived, their movements in the house have been curtailed. No longer can they roam freely from room to room or hop from furniture to furniture, they are confined to the kitchen, utility and lounge thanks to our series of well placed doors.

They are feeling down, that's for sure. The baby gets most of the attention and they spend lots of time alone while I am able to walk them less. Hopefully the latter will change soon but as my wife recovers, it's hard to be away for any length of time.

So today we let them get close to the baby and both were very curious and gentle. Both gave him a good sniff and tried to get close enough for a few little licks but no contact was made. The girl dog looks very maternal and concerned, while the boy is more concerned whether the baby will always get fed first and if it can throw a ball yet. The toys are the main targets - the girl has eyed the mouse with the music string built into its tail and I can see that getting swiped and mauled at some point soon. Cleanliness is the priority but we have also ruled that we should never have the baby in a room with the dogs without at least two adults present - you cannot afford to take a chance even if you trust your dogs like we do ours. Time will form a lasting bond between the child and the dogs but that has only just started.

We are getting little sleep. Young Scott gets crotchety for a feed in the wee hours at least twice a night and takes time to settle back which means I at least start him sleeping on me. While we know that this is not the best policy for getting him used to his basket, the fact is that I love having him near me. And while he sleeps on me, I sleep very little, mainly as I am too scared that I might move and he falls off.

We still keep getting gifts via post. A former colleague sent me a beautiful Baby Journal with lots of 'first things' to record in there like first nappy etc. Today two firsts happened - while I changed his nappy, the stub of his umbilical cord fell off to reveal a perfect tummy button and the second was that he puked over me with gusto this morning, raining milky vomit over my tee shirt and the lovely clean romper suit I had just put on him. We also had a parcel from France where one of my wife's clients sent a package of bath towels and a flannel.

Today, I have been really caught up by the emotion of it all - I guess it still had not hit me totally. I spoke to one of my sisters and my brother, then got a text from my elder sister. Between them all, in a quiet moment as I looked at my emails, I had a quiet weep to myself.

My son will get to meet a of lot of wonderful people that I love in his life but I thought of the people he will not get to meet. My parents are in the back of my mind all of the time and rarely I go a night without seeing at least one of them in my dreams. Right now, as far away as they may seem to be, I have never felt closer to my parents who died in 1991 and 1996 respectively and were the greatest influence on my life.

I am so glad that he will get to know his other grandparents who fell in love with him approximately 3 hours after he was born as the first visitors awaiting our return from the Recovery Area. Granny was 'horse whispering' him today and he stared back into her eyes as if listening to every word.

You can see that today has been a real weepy one - proud as punch one minute and a teary wreck the next. As we approach the end of the first week of our son's life I think I will have many more like these.

Bring it on.

Blurry Eyes

It's been a blur.

Mum and baby arrived home on Friday and the first night was troublesome so neither of us slept well as we were on tenterhooks. Baby has found feeding on Mum's colostrum difficult, which is the vital early milk produced for the few days after birth that is rich in crucial ingredients for baby's development. It is rich, quite thick and is produced in small amounts - making it tough for baby to draw down. Mum noticed on the second night that baby was distressed at feeding and decided to supplement with a bottle of SMA formula despite protests from the mid-wives. She has also taken to expressing extra colostrum to ease pains in her breasts but to produce more for the baby at feeding times with less difficulty.

At this point, you have to understand my wife is committed to breast feeding but she also knows you have to trust your motherly instincts. If baby needs more - give it. What he clearly needed was more volume and, specifically, fluids. Due to that early trouble feeding he developed mild jaundice, but now, in a combination of breast and bottle feeding, he has had his 6 day check up where it is typical for a newborn to lose 10% of body weight and he has lost just one ounce. That's a small victory for common sense over dogma and my simple advice to would-be parents is to use your own judgement as the NHS is so fixated on 100% breast feeding it is actually putting children's health at risk - or at least that's my opinion.

The other thing we learned early on is that 'skin to skin' is both awesome and really helpful at feeding times. Part of it is the shock of coolness on the skin from the air but most of it is the touch of the mum and it really helps in breast feeding. Another thing we learnt is that mid-wives are no experts - they have great experience but there is a huge volume of differing opinions and no actual right line. You have to take advice and trust your own judgement.

The first few days at home have been a huge learning curve amidst lack of sleep. I am exhausted so just imagine what mum feels like while baby is thriving - at the least the priorities are right. We found ourselves to be more prepared than we thought we were - the cot is ace, the moses basket excellent and the tons of outfits and nappies all went down well. Then came the overwhelming and incredible generosity of others - family and friends. Neighbours decorated the porch, sister-in-laws brought us box loads of hand-me-downs, the flowers were copious and then there were the gifts.

Tons of clothes - tons of clothes - some disguised at flowers in bouquets, shawls of vintage wool, toys of all sizes with a rat or mouse playing a lullaby if you tug its tail, a Welsh pillow with a sheep on it (well he has to grow up in the right environment), a silver spoon, books, DVDs shoes, mittens, socks, outfits - it is endless. We have a had a constant stream of visitors with neighbours walking across the courtyard to family arriving from Wales for just a few hours. The emotions have run high, the tea has flowed and the cakes have been vital. It's been a roller coaster of feelings and we still have to catch our breath when we look upon our little miracle and think how long we have waited for these moments and realise it was well worth the wait.

We've had a few wailing fits, plenty of soiled nappies, a few baths, baby weeing on himself when you are fumbling for a clean nappy, little bits of vomiting though not much, a couple of feeding issues but no real hassles, but nothing really prepared us for the 'Gestapo' or the initial visit of the mid-wives. Like 'dementors' from Harry Potter they arrive unannounced, creep around you and quickly suck the euphoria from you as they assume that you are bad parents and you have to prove them otherwise. Their line of questioning was to challenge my wife's decision to supplement breast with bottle asking for justifications. I was seconds away from asking whether I had missed something and that non-breast feeding had been outlawed in statute. Fortunately my wife had more patience. Another mid-wife arrived today when I was at the dentist and she was excellent, applauding the supplementary bottles and my wife's attention to the baby ahead of all else, echoing the Paediatrician's views in the hospital. A victory for common sense.

The feeling of tiredness is debilitating but you just take one look into his face and you get all the adrenalin you need.

24 Hours

Meet Scott Edward at less than 24 hours old. He's a handsome little fellow who we all agree has his father's nose and his mum's toes. These may not be things he thanks us for as a start in life but at least we will be able to pick him out in a crowd.

How can I describe our feelings at the moment? Exhaustion springs to mind. Mum had about one hour's sleep on the first night, I found it difficult to nod off and so had a stiff Scotch then fell into a deep slumber and overslept. So we were both not at our best for baby.

The problem of the day was that he had difficulty in feeding - he fed at 4.30am and then slept a good deal and had the most enormous ejection of meconium which I had to deal with and is a 'first baby thing' to remember, believe me. But baby decided that feeding was passe and so slept on the boob until he finally decided to latch on and feed at 5pm and then did not feed again until 10pm. By that time he was way crotchety and despite the best advice from the mid-wives he had studiously avoided slurping.

The trick, we have found so far, is to make sure he is wide awake and then to get 'skin to skin'. There is a lot of 'faddy' research on this but I cannot recommend it enough as a) it works and b) it's such a feeling for mum and dad alike - I am getting choked up just writing that as it is so special to have your new baby actually sleeping naked (bar a nappy) on your own bare skin. You see, the problem was not wanting his mum's boob - he was using it as a comfort - but to stimulate the action of feeding. By cooling him down, upping the lights and tickling his feet, he really got stuck in and his last feed before I left was a big one and he was much, much more settled. Mum was hoping to get at least a little sleep as she was far more tired than me. Having said that, I got to sleep just after 1am and was up again at 6.00am and I can tell you I am shattered with blood red eyes.

But that's a minor issue. The actual joy of being around this little bundle of delight is amazing. And we are just so chuffed at not only how many people have contacted us from far and wide but how touching all the thoughts are. It seems that not only we were trying hard to have this baby all this while, many of our friends and family were praying equally hard. That's a great start in life for the boy - no pressure then.

Talking of that - I had this from my brother, who has just gone potty over his new nephew. "I had a dream last night. There was Scott stood on top of Mt. Everest wearing his Emeritus cap and gown as Professor of Nuclear Physics from Cambridge University holding the Ashes urn in his hand. You'll have to have a harsh word with him as I don't want under-achievers in the family." No pressure at all then.

We are hoping that everyone can return home today. The doctors are happy with mum's progress and baby is looking fine, passing his early hearing test with flying colours and he looks good. So I lectured the dogs again last night and got them to sniff the baby's dirty clothes I brought home. Both seemed very excited but I have seen that sort of activity at Christmas time when they think each gift is for them and so they unwrap them. We shall see how jealous they get later - plus no jumping on mum's tummy.

I got home late last night and the neighbours (I am not sure which ones, but I have my suspicions, Lindsay) have decorated the archway outside our porch. It brought a huge smile to my exhausted face - and a second one in the dead of night when I awoke with a start and realised I had not put the recycling boxes out as it was bin day today. How stupid was that as I was up long before they arrived anyway - so be prepared for addled brains as part of the fatigue.

One of my sisters has indicated she would like to travel up from Wales for a short visit on Sunday and lots of friends and relatives will descend on us over the weekend. It augments my view that lots of people are rooting for this boy.

No pressure at all, really.

The Hand of God

At 3.07pm today, weighing in at 6lb 7ozs, our son was born by Cesarean Section. His name is Scott Edward and he came with a decent head of hair and fed almost the instant he was born.

Nine months zipped by in a flash. Reality never really set in and even this morning I did not really believe that we were at the end of an incredible journey. It was hard to believe I would return home a father.

Nothing prepared me for this moment. You could read a thousand books, see a million films, listen to a billion people - nothing prepares you for that first moment of new life, that you have created. I cannot find the words to describe the moment he was born.

The day had started early - we called the Delivery Suite at Watford General and they told us to get our backsides there fast. We were late on their requested time, but we needn't have rushed as our Consultant, Yunus Tayob was there but no midwives were. He told us that we would be on at midday and to go away and relax. We went down to the Knutsford Suite, really just to drop off our bags, but they opened our room and we sat there and relaxed until 11.00am when we went back to the Delivery Suite. We waited for over two and a half hours before we were summoned. Even then it took time. We changed and went for the prepping. A rather nervous lady anaesthetist tried to administer an epidural on my long-suffering wife and failed. Enter the Consultant anaesthetist who did in around two minutes - we were good to go then.

The procedure is brisk and after cutting, sluicing, prising and tugging, the baby's head appeared and Mr. Tayob told me to get round the front of the screen to take pictures. That view, that moment will live in my mind until I gasp my last breath. There was our son poking out of his mum's middle. Deftly, he was hauled out and held up for my camera like a fisherman displaying a prize catch.

Lots go on all around you and it's hard to take it all in. The boy blurted out a cry almost immediately then he was whisked away for cleaning by the mid-wife who also did a series of checks to confirm he was in rude health. Mum was stitched up all the while but before long she got to hold the baby first and was ecstatic. I was snapping away at whatever I could between tears and got my turn to hold our son.

Eventually we were taken to the recovery room where the baby took to the boob like a natural and fed for the best part of two hungry hours. Mum was sore but so happy while I was calling every relative and friend I could while texting loads more. I could hardly talk to my wife's mum while I choked up talking to her sister, her brothers and then my family. Everyone was so choked up we hardly actually said a word. The texted replies came cascading in from people as far as Australia and we choked up reading the warm messages and good wishes. In fact, we just choked up generally.

The NHS gets maligned for a lot of things (not least the £12 per day parking fees - how idiotic is that?) but the staff at Watford General were fantastic. The delivery team were superb, Mr. Tayob made having a C-Section like listening to your dad tell a story while he washes the dishes. The mid-wives were fantastic - professional and they lightened up the moment and helped us on all the things we had no clue about. Our assigned mid-wife for the receiving of our baby and the recovery was Nikki Glover - not only was she fantastic and attentive, she was drop dead gorgeous and great fun. She knew all that was needed to know, helped in so many ways, offered advice, and showed us what to do as if she had done this for 40 years. It was when she told us it was her mum's 50th birthday on the weekend that I realised that the NHS at least was giving great training.

We finally got back to our room in the Knutsford Suite at 7.30pm to be greeted by my wife's parents who were just delighted with their latest grandchild. Soon, my sister-in-law and her hubby arrived and we all took turns with the baby and took endless photos. I had got to put his first nappy on, dressed him in his first vest and outfit with cap, and wrapped him in his first blanket. I also got to change his first soiled nappy, clean his first dirty bum and administer his first wet wipe, and then put on his second nappy. It has been one hell of a day.

Young Scott shares a name with his Uncle who was chuffed to bits to have a nephew named after him. But it's been a day of chuffed people - my brother pointed out that there has not been a new son in the family to bear our name for 50 years - our Mum and Dad will be smiling down from heaven tonight, proud as punch for us.

It's difficult to write while trying not to cry - it's been that sort of day. Now I am back home, being greeted by two wary and put-out dogs, I realise life will never be the same again. The car seat in the car on the way back said it all. The Moses basket by the bed, the cot, the pram - our new way of life is all ahead of us.

While waiting for our new son to finish his third feed of the day before I came home, I leafed through a copy of New Scientist. It was going off about quantum communication between photons or something like it. I have a sort of scientific and questioning mind that looks at questions like creation with some degree of scepticism. I can reason to myself that life is but a random outcome of the amalgamation of a set of circumstantial events that happened to cause life - when you study it, life is just chemicals having an amazing party.

Then you watch your baby's head emerge from its mother's womb after nine months of gestation and take its first breath and instinctively fall in love with its parents and reach for a nipple.

At that moment, all logic flies out of the window - science is trivial, mathematics means nothing, quantum schmantum - at that moment you just know this cannot happen without some God, somewhere.

B-Day!

Nine months have flashed by and today is the big day - the day our baby will be born.

It's hard to believe and the whole nine months has seemed slightly surreal, with all the excitement crammed packed into not just the last month but it seems the last few days. Maybe it's because I am an old fellah, maybe it's because I thought my time had passed, maybe because I had become used to my life but the whole process of gestation has seemed to be just another nine months until the last few days.

It has suddenly dawned on me - I am not working, I am on 'Paternity Leave', or the equivalent for a father who does not get paid when he takes time off. When I typed out my email 'Out of Office' it seemed very strange putting that down. The phone was very busy yesterday with lots of texts and calls from well-wishers and friends and this has been one thing that both my wife and I have been bowled over by - the sincere hopeful wishes of all our friends and family who have been brilliant over the last 6 to 9 months.

In the past few days, I have constructed the cot (without too many expletives), erected the Moses basket, cleaned the baby's room, washed the curtains, constructed the pram, attached the isofix base to the car, put in the child seat, taken all the packaging to the tip and started an electronic scrapbook of the baby's life - codenamed for now, of course. Ah names. There has never been a problem on girl's names - there are so many beautiful ones - but boy names have been a source of frustration. It doesn't help that I offer daft ones - recently I pointed out that Dracula as a name gets a bad press and this year Osama seems popular. We still have not found the right one - and if it's a boy we will have to see what name suits him when he arrives.

My wife has been getting nervous and went into 'high nesting' mode in the last few days. She was a bundle of energy followed by a floppy heap, knackered out by her efforts. Yesterday, after repacking her bag(s) for the hospital several times, she started shredding a pile of documents for no particular reason other than 'they were there'. We did try and relax so we went to lunch in St Albans with her sister and two of her boys. There was a mixture of tears and laughter - it was just what was needed. Last night, we charged up all the cameras and I got all the makings of sandwiches ready to make this morning as it seems dads don't get fed. I checked with the hospital and all is set for today.

We have to call at 7.00am for instructions but we believe that our consultant, Yunus Tayob, has arranged for the C-Section this afternoon some time so there may be a chance of a breakfast - if not it is fasting for my wife for the day. I will make sandwiches and take cakes for her later as I have no idea what the arrangements are. I haven't researched some simple things like 'Registering the Birth' but I hope that will be easy. I am also hoping that my father-in-law can pitch in with the dogs as I will be away for the best part of 3 days - the dogs will have forgotten me by the time I return.

My wife is booked in at the Knutsford Suite private wing of Waford General Hospital - they offered to put me up at £161 per night but I could stay at Claridge's for less - besides, if it's not match day, then it's only 10 minutes away. If it is match day, then it's five - ha, ha a joke at the expense of Watford FC supporter(s).

It's not long to go now and bodies are stirring in the house. I will let you know what happens next! Damn, knew I had forgotten something - choosing the music for the delivery.