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.

B-Day

Well that's decided then.

Yesterday we visited our Consultant for a 33 week discussion and scan and the matter of the delivery was discussed in detail. High on the agenda were the fibroids which had caused such a big problem in week 23. At that time, my wife had two fibroids, one so large that the Anomaly Scan had to be abandoned as the Sonographer could not see anything. In the ensuing few days, my wife suffered very severe pains which induced early contractions which were not Braxton-Hicks ones and as a consequence I rushed her to the Delivery Suite at Watford General where she spent a few days on muscle relaxants, including Progesterone which acts in this way also. A few days later, amid excruciating pain, the main fibroid outgrew its blood supply, known as Red Degeneration, and began to die off. The second fibroid remained.

On the scan yesterday, the second fibroid had changed and was now positioned directly above the baby's neck. The consultant was not sure if this would complicate the delivery. I have pointed this out ad nauseum - we have been trying for years for a baby and we are both no longer spring chickens and so the delivery of a healthy baby was utmost on our minds. Without hesitation we elected to go for a cesarian section and our consultant said, 'You have made the right decision'. It was a huge relief to know things would be taken care of and nothing will be left to chance - particularly in the presence of a second fibroid which was showing signs of change, as well as my wife's lingering issues surrounding endometriosis and the scar tissue left after several operations to attempt to curb or cure it.

Quick as a flash, our consultant called the Delivery Suite and he booked us in for a cesarian which he will perform himself on the NHS, and my wife will recuperate in the Knutsford Suite at Watford General (see earlier blog). The B-Day (not some french contraption to wash your nether regions but Birth Day) is set for 17 February and the only thing he didn't tell us was what time so that I could have breakfast or lunch or make sure there wasn't a golf game on - how inconsiderate!

We went away with real excitement. Having bought so much stuff over the weekend, my wife had spent Monday morning clearing space in the 'Nursery' and converting a section of my wardrobe into the baby's - I came home to find all my shirts moved and replaced by baby clothes hung neatly up and I had a lump in my throat. Now we have a stake in the ground in terms of the date and method of delivery even if it was not the preferred way. The fact is we are now galvanised around that date - I can book the time off with my client from almost to the hour. Where my shirts are, I have no idea.

The overnight bag is all prepared just in case, and last night the baby was turning cartwheels, having blinked and then poked its tongue out at us during the scan. Even though one of our dogs burnt her paw pads on the rough, icy ground yesterday morning and we had to take her for bandaging, even they sensed something was about to change forever.

We are going to have a baby, and we know exactly when and how.

One final note, as the consultant scanned the body of our little one, he alighted on the business area to show the gender. Quickly moving on, he asked us if we wanted to know. Having kept ambivalent on that point, I think we both agreed instantly that we would, if only to be able to take all the clothes back on exchange if need be. He scanned back and showed us all we needed to know.

Of course that will be our own little secret for now.

In The Posh End

We had decided long ago that if we were blessed enough to have a child then my wife would be housed in a private room - may as well make the most of the whole thing, but there is nothing like a bit of privacy when you are in pain.

Watford General have a very swish section amid the mass of nondescript concrete buildings that forms the old hospital. The Maternity Wing is at the main entrance and hidden on the second floor, accessed only via Katherine Ward and a fair wait at the security point, is the the closest you get to a 'jewel in the crown' - if any part of Watford, let alone the hospital, can be described as such.

Here lies the hidden treasure of the Knutsford Suite (write that very carefully, chaps). It's a six room small wing which is the private section of the maternity wing at Watford. It isn't cheap, but it's bijou, vaguely private (it's corridor forms a link between Katherine Ward and the Delivery Suite so a good proportion of visitors have to walk through the ward), very clean, quiet and doesn't look or smell like other parts of the hospital. It is well decorated although you have the tell-tale cheap wooden doors with meshed glass to each room - thick with layers of paint from over the years.

We made an appointment and met with mid-wife Margaret Rennick who was an absolute diamond. My wife is very teary about most things right now so even just asking questions about the impending birth started her off - Margaret was superb. She was very understanding and comforting and soon all our questions were answered. We got to see the comfy beds, leather chairs for visitors, the flat screen TV, nice pictures on the wall, ensuite bathroom with nice khazi, bidet and walk-in shower - there were even some complimentary toiletries. I looked for a mini-bar but could not find one, nor the advertised hairdryer. The decor was not bad but the room was hot - I assume that's the way they like it for new-borns.

I booked up the 4 night stay for room-only which you prepay at a cost of £1,600. We are not having a private birth per se and if you want you can opt for packages which include private natural birth or cesarean section at extra cost. Naturally, as there are only six rooms, there has to be a priority system which they are pretty open about, and full private patients get top pick, then come private patients with insurance cover paying for their stay, then come nose-picking class like us who are room-only. They claim only about once a year that the demand gets too high and if that happens, the lowest priority gets bumped into the NHS wards and the money is fully refunded. That was said as if that was some sort of favour, so there are still some remains of the public sector there.

It was about lunchtime and the meals were being served and they looked vaguely edible and at least served on a nice warm trolley with a state-of-the-art light on it to give it a luxurious feel. Some kind of added bonus is that the partner can stay on a room-only basis too which includes two meals. At £160 per night it's blinking expensive, given the rooms are already painfully small and they have to wheel in some sort of trestle table to sleep on. While it is nice and cosy to be close to mum and newborn, I live only 15 mins away and it may actually be cheaper to stay at the Grove Hotel anyway! Actually, I exaggerate as I think the cheapest room there is around £270 but at least you overlook a golf course as opposed to a grimy block across an access street. Besides, I would have to take out a mortgage to afford the parking at Watford General.

As my wife has had fibroid complications at around 23 weeks which caused an onslaught of early contractions (not Braxton-Hicks) as well as excruciating pain, there is now a possibility that she may have to a Cesarean due to medical reasons. Margaret told us to contact our private medical insurers as if a cesarean is required on medical grounds, and not just as an emergency procedure, then they may cover it. I had not even thought of contacting them for any reason, to be honest, except to add the newborn to the policy when he/she arrives. So I called my firm today - they are health-on-line and they are underwritten by Axa PPP. They were incredibly helpful and referred me to the claims desk at PPP. I went through the history and they set up a claim pending the judgement of our consultant who we see tomorrow.

However, it is well worth checking in advance on these things. Firstly, they did not recognise our consultant as being one on their private list as he does most of his work on the NHS, as he would do for us. Secondly, Watford General did not have a contract with Axa PPP and so there would be no way we could have any private stuff covered, even the the room part even if the consultant acted on the NHS. It seems daft as this would mean we would have to be referred to a full private facility in either Harpenden or Bushey and get the whole thing done by a fully private consultant and team - which would dramatically increase the value of the claim.

It also sort of forced our decision. Even if we are recommended to have a cesarean on medical grounds, we will stay with our consultant, Yunus Tayob, who we both admire greatly and has a massive reputation in his field. That means we will stay at Watford General's Knutsford Suite and stump up the cost ourselves even if we could have claimed the whole lot somehwere else. Our view is that this whole experience has been a long journey and specific people have gone out of their way to be of greater help than others which has made the difference for us. Yunus Tayob is one of those and we feel safe in his hands.

On the way back, we called off at Bushey Arches and visited Mothercare. Chalk and cheese compared to Mamas & Papas but they had a good range of nursing and maternity bras plus nightwear which has been deemed, by my wife, to be essential. They also have really practical things there like electric socket protectors, door and drawer catches and a vast array of all types of prams that none of the staff knew much about without referring to a computer, let alone be able to adequately demonstrate them. More baby clothes were bought, plus odds and sods. The big thing I noticed, call me a snob, was that the quality was a lot less, in my unprofessional opinion on the subject, than Mamas & Papas. Also, in some of the areas, the choice was pitiful, as in cots and the like, of which there was just one. It was both expensive and shabby looking. The Early Learning Centre attached to the shop though, was great.

In total, we forked out over £3,000 in a short weekend on kit and private rooms. We haven't started on decorating yet. However, the level excitement, anticipation and trepidation has risen in proportion.

Roll on 25 February!

Mama and Papa

Yesterday was a big day. It was the day when real excitement and adrenalin kicked. No it was not because of the First Round proper of the FA Cup, men - we went to the shops and we.........bought stuff.

Until now, after so many disappointments in the past, we had put off buying essential things for the impending birth. Part of this had been because we were trying to play down the relevance (a reverse psychology strategy to avoid major downers should we lose this baby) of this pregnancy but also partly due to daft superstitions people have mentioned. As each week has passed since the 24th week, we know that the likelihood of having a healthy new born has increased and so, in reality, preparations need to be made in haste.

So yesterday we joined the New Year sales queues and went to Mamas & Papas in Watford which was a fight in itself as it shares an entrance with a 24 hour Tescos with a Krispy Kreme franchise and petrol station. The little off shoot road takes you up to the defunct Borders and M&P. We almost turned back, it was that full, but after 45 minutes of queuing for a car park, we were in.

Now, we had received advice from recent parents that there is an excellent baby superstore in Peterborough which has an amazing website - it's called Kiddicare and I can heartily recommend it. However, one of the most important aspects of the whole experience is a) the excitement of choosing what to have for your baby live and in person and b) you will need good advice and demonstrations of equipment by well-trained shop assistants. We chose well to go to Mamas & Papas and we were chaperoned for a good hour by the excellent Saaema (I think that's how you spell her name) who talked us through everything from bath items, to cots, to prams to bottles to mattresses and never once said, 'Don't you read anything, you numskulls?' We ended up buying half the shop.

It should be said that there is a sale on at M&P but it ends today allegedly and it isn't fantastically generous, with 10 or 20% being the norm but there are the occasional 3 for 2 and 30% discounts or even the odd half price. But rest assured, on the main purchase items like beds and prams, the discounts are low. That said, it did save us a good deal of money. If you really know what you want, having seen and touched it elsewhere, then Kiddicare is a good bet as they have a sale on too and some of the discounts on big items like prams are superb. But you really have to know what you want.

With little real selling but lots of good advice. M&P guided us through everything. For men, the only real area we think we know something about is the pram and so I burbled a great deal about the obvious merits of Quinny and Maxi Cosi items but in the end I shut up as the lady demonstrated the ease and quality of the Pliko Switch Pramette kit (up to £150 off at the moment if you by the full combo) which in my mind was the 'Fords' of prams but we were both easily sold on its excellent usability and weight. It comes in handy 'sets' and so you can buy the pram, child seat (Primo Viaggio), iso fix kit and pram seat as a discounted kit which also had an offer. The assistant even checked the iso fix attachments in my car and showed me how to set it up. I could have taken all that information and gone into umpteen shops, as I would to buy a car, and compared what we saw to get the best but, frankly, the service was superb and we were delighted with what we bought. The 'switch' bit actually refers to the fact that you can easily just have the child pointing toward or away from you by simply turning the seat around. It's a 4 wheeler and snaps together very easily so it can be stored with minimal fuss.

The cot was the longest deliberation. The wood types, sturdiness and side panels were hard enough to consider but the biggest debate and difference on price was between cots and cot-beds - the latter lasting up to 5 years. We decided as we are going for more children after and in order to avoid being picked on by his/her peers for being still being in a cot-bed at 5, that we would get the Sherwood oakwood cot, with a top which straddles the rails so that you can change the child, and we will choose separate draws. The mattress and bedding took a while but I left that to my wife who had the 'gingerbread man' pattern in mind although I had read a fabulous book by Jasper Fforde in which the fictional kiddy book character was a serial killer. Great read.

The 'Moses' basket was a dilemma too. In fact, all the baskets were the same but the patterns of the innards were different causing pause for thought. In the end we decided on the 'gingerbread man' theme and bought extra linen and a good mattress plus a 'snug' stand in case the dogs brush by on a ball chase - the rocking types looked a bit flimsy. For bath time, we went for the aqua plastic thing which stands in your normal bath and the baby lies on it rather than the separate bath. If nothing else, storage is becoming a big issue around this baby and there may be no room left for my golf clubs at this rate - anyway, this item looks great.

With the larger items all decided upon, it was the accessories and further smaller paraphernalia which really ratcheted up the cost and minimised the space in the car on the way home (the pram and cot were being delivered separately!). Bedding, linen, mattresses, blankets, bibs, romper suits, vests, gloves, hats, socks all contributed. We even called at Boots and got Pampers, Tommy Tippee bottles with steriliser kits, baby bum creme, nipple protectors, sanitary towels etc etc.

By the way - there are tons of newborn and baby sites to register at for information and possibly discount offers. In subsequent posts I will try and collate the ones I have found but I try to add them as I go along.

In the end we parted with around £1,450 in M&P alone and a further much smaller wedge in Boots. The result is that we will have the ceremonial packing of the 'Overnight Bag' to do today, constituting the fabled and mysterious 'Layette' my wife refers to which in my limited mind is simply clothes and whatnot, which has to be wheelie based according to my wife. This will contain enough kit for mum and baby for around 4 days - personally, in my mind, a toothbrush, nightie and the rest as pampers would suffice but apparently you have to dress the mite too, hence the vast quantities of baby romper suits and an outfit for every colour of vomit as well as time of day, as far as I can see.

Today, we are visiting the private suites of Watford General Hospital, called the Knutsford Suite which I saw when my wife had a recent stay in the Delivery Suite in October. I thought it looked very swanky but not quite the Four Seasons but a small oasis of homeliness amid the blandness of a hospital. Private rooms are the key and even partners can stay if you fancy blowing £160 per night which seems a bit excessive and would buy you a very nice suite at a posh hotel in most places. The cost for the mum is a bit nasty too and you have to pay £1,600 upfront for up to 4 nights, you get money back for early release. Some medical insurances cover the cost if you have to have a Cesarean for medical purposes and it is worth checking out. I will give a fuller report later.

As for the early weeks in our impending baby's new life, well it is all sorted out in a gingery sort of way. I just hope he or she likes it.