Life begins

First (definite) smile

You gave me a beautiful smile and gurgled a giggle today. This was the first time I was absolutely sure it was not wind. Didn't get a great picture of it but what a beautiful development, son.

Five weeks in

I love being your dad. My routine at the moment involves waking at 7 and changing, feeding and rocking you to sleep before I go to work. When I return, I get to hold you and feed you again, normally. You are so gorgeous and all your little noises (including your tearless bawling) cause me smiles and laughs. I love this time with you and love the idea of being with you as you grow, son.

Ventricular septal defect

Son, there is a hole in your little heart. Blood leaks from one side to the other but the doctor has told us that it is a very small hole and may well close in time without intervention. It was found after we took you into A&E at the hospital where you were born. You had lost too much weight, son.


You are spending your third night in a row in hospital and I miss you and your mum, who is doing the hard work of caring for you while I go to college to teach.

Yesterday when I went in to see you before work, I was deeply affected by the tube going into your nose and the helplessness any parent would feel in seeing your care in the hands of others.

I left Imperial early to spend more time with you (though actually got some sleep after a restless night). They have been providing you with milk through a pump but your mum has now reintroduced the breast and we hope that your feeding will improve.

We are being told that the hole and your weight-loss & consequent dehydration are unrelated. I guess we hope that is the case. It is midnight in our lonely flat. I miss you, son.

Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow

You are with your mother in UCLH tonight, because you have lost 11.43% of your bodyweight since you were born, which is more than the "normal" amount of weight loss that many babies experience. When you were being examined, the doctor found a murmur in your heart. You were then X-rayed. Son, we are worried and I feel even worse for having left you and your mother there.

You have alternately disconcerted us by not seeming to poo enough, crying too much and having a smelly belly-button. First-time-parents suffer; it is as much their role as it is yours to shit, scream and not sleep at night. Today our anxiety feels justified: your mother called me just as I left my fourth day at Imperial College and I cycled to the A&E department and met you there. I did not expect to be cycling home alone, son.

Happy birthday!

Your mother went into hospital yesterday morning about 10am. She got a bed (and room) just after 12 and by four o'clock in the afternoon, a gel had been used to try to encourage labour. You were being induced because of a combination of the gestational diabetes that your mum had (and controlled so well) and the fact that at 42, giving birth can be less than perfect.

We had messages from your nan (my mum) and friends sent well wishes. A second dose of gel about half eleven led to your mother's waters breaking at about 1.15am (I went home an hour before that) and she had intense contractions all night and did not sleep well. (I did.) Your mum had a hormone drip inserted about 2pm today and took an epidural at 3.15. When the midwife - Mikala - came to check on you abour 5.30, she was surprised to see the top of your head.

Your mum pushed hard for half an hour but you wouldn't come out. Mikala decided on an episiotomy and then there you were - purple, lifeless, with the umbilical cord wrapped twice around your neck. Fear dried up the happy tears that had begun to roll down my cheeks. Mikala clamped and cut the cord and unwrapped it. When she moved you, life kicked in and you wailed. It was so beautiful. I am crying those missing tears now, knowing you are safe and well.

You lay on your mother for 15 minutes while they delivered the placenta. Then I held you for half an hour while they sewed up your mum. She worried about feeding you. She worried generally. She was so happy to get you back from me. You were reluctant to feed at first but after half past eight you began to suck and your little jaw moving below your downy skin was such a relief to your mum. By half past nine you were upstairs with mum in the birth centre and I was on the way home, relegated to writing to you and missing you already, son.

Nearly here

Well son, since I last wrote, we have crossed the world, stayed in Rotherhithe for a couple of months and ultimately moved back into our flat at Kings Cross, which is not far from the hospital in which you are to be born. We have been to antenatal classes and your mum is in a breast-feeding class as I write this entry. We have been given clothes by friends with babies, so most of the things you wear for the first 3 months at least will be cast-offs from Leo (Jade & Oliver) and Persephone (Helen & Matt), while Kung & Matt have given us Olan's cot, two prams and a car-seat and Ali & Grant have donated Elsie's moses basket and a rocker.

Your mum has made up a bag to take into UCLH with her when the contractions tell her it's time to go and we are both looking forward to that day. You aren't due for another 3 weeks but your mum has a feeling you will make your appearance next week. I am hoping so, for slightly selfish reasons, because I will be able to get time off the job I am doing now (Internexus, at Regent's College) but start a new one at the end of the month (in Imperial College) for which they have specified that no time-off is permitted. Of course your mum and your needs will be the priority but if I can have my cake and eat it, I will be even more delighted.