I thought I’d put forward my side before we move on from tales of Evan’s arrival.
Last Friday was a strange day emotionally. I wasn’t particularly nervous when we got to the hospital but I knew there were a lot of things to happen before we knew the baby would be on his way. I didn’t want to start thinking Evan will be here that day as there was a strong chance it would take more than that. However, it was strange to see the hospital cot in the delivery suite and think “our baby could be in that very soonâ€.
I’m not going to do details as there are plenty of people who would rather I didn’t. Suffice to say, they started me off in the morning but nothing particularly happened until they broke my waters at 5pm. It then wasn’t until sometime after 8 before I started to wonder how I was going to do this (and how much longer would it take) and sent Dan for the midwife.
I’m not sure if the gas and air helped but it gave me something to concentrate on. When the midwife checked how I was doing at 8.45pm, I was quite disappointed to find out that I was 4cm and therefore likely to have quite a few hours ahead of me. Next thing I knew she was starting to get everything ready and I couldn’t understand why. Then she said it was nearly time and before I knew it he was here. With hindsight, I was really lucky to only end up with under 2 hours of grief, although I wouldn’t have agreed at the time.
Since then everything has seemed much more straightforward than it was with Amy, purely because we are a lot more confident this time. However I do have a list of things to learn again. It’s only been 3 years but I have forgotten more than I have remembered.
Amy seems really huge since we brought Evan home. It was when she (gently) put her hand on Evan’s head and it seemed so massive that it struck home. I know it’s all relative but she seems to have gone from being our little girl to our big girl in one instant.
She’s also taken to saying that Evan is “my preciousâ€. This obviously amuses her geeky parents although it’s just her chosen term of endearment. According to her, Amy is Daddy’s sweetheart and Daddy is Mummy’s darling etc but I am now hoping this is the only Gollum trait to make an appearance.
The delivery suite has pretty tight security. Every time you want to come in or go out you have to be buzzed through by a midwife. This is to prevent anyone just wandering in and helping themselves to a baby or two.
I had to leave the ward now and again to get something to drink, send a text message, or just stretch my legs. I also wasn’t allowed to use the toilet attached to Kerry’s room for some reason, and so had to go through the security doors every time I wanted a pee (and people who know me will tell you I pee a lot). Each time I left I had to press a doorbell and talk through an intercom to be let back in.
I had just finished phoning my mother to tell her it looked like things were starting to move. I had bought a bottle of diet coke at the hospital shop and, not wanting to clutter up Kerry’s room with rubbish, quickly finished it off before I pressed the intercom button. After a short wait I heard the crackly voice of the midwife at the other end:
“Who is it please?â€
“It’s… BUUURRPP†I replied with a bone shattering belch as the carbonated water forced its way out of my stomach.
There then came a stunned silence from the intercom. Now the microphones on those things are pretty primitive; but I’m sure I heard the rustle of papers of the midwife reaching for the social services child protection forms.
Kerry was incredible throughout the whole labour. It was a lot more difficult than Amy’s delivery but she was exceptionally brave and got through it magnificently.
And now we have a son.
There is so much to say about the labour and the birth and how overwhelmed and ecstatic we are about welcoming our baby into the world; but all that will wait until another day. For now I have only this: Evan Hughes was born on the 20/10/06 at 21:47 weighing 8lb 10oz. Mother and baby are both doing well, and a new joy has entered our lives.
We’re off to the hospital. Wish us luck.
I’ve had lots of lots of phone calls and texts over the past 2 days, wishing us luck for tomorrow, which has been really nice. It hasn’t felt real to me yet, more like when you are preparing to go on holiday. You’re so busy finishing off your last minute list of things to do and it only sinks in when you’re at the airport.
I’ve just repacked my hospital bags as it’s an early start in the morning. Reality did start making an appearance when I was looking at the tiny nappies and thinking – I am going to have a baby very soon. Yes, I know I’ve had long enough for this to sink in, but it somehow doesn’t.
I don’t know if I’ll get much sleep tonight, however I’d best go give it a try. Hopefully I’ll be busy tomorrow, although Dan’s still convinced we’ll be waiting for this baby to arrive next week….
My job can get a little intense at times so I generally need an hour or so once I’ve got home to unwind. Unfortunately, because I do thirteen hour shifts and I finish at around 11pm, it can mean I get to bed pretty late sometimes.
I generally potter around on the computer: surf the net, look for updates on other people’s blogs, and obsessively check my site for new comments. Occasionally I even get to eat into Greg and Deb’s precious family time by chatting with them on the webcam.
Usually Kerry is asleep during this whole process, but tonight I went upstairs to go to the loo and saw the bedroom light was on. When I investigated I found her sitting up in bed reading Number Ten by Sue Townsend.
There are two books in this world which have earth shattering significance for me. One is Quite Ugly One Morning by Christopher Brookmyre. This is a book that I was given by a friend on the same day that I met Kerry for the first time. We will quietly gloss over the fact that she chose to date my friend Craig on that particular night rather than myself, but I would like to state for the record that she has since told me she thought I was out of her league because I appeared too intelligent. All lies of course, but I appreciate the gesture.
The second book that is burned across my consciousness is Number Ten by Sue Townsend. This is the book that I read through Kerry’s labour with Amy. I must point out before I get stoned to death that I was reading it during the early stages, when it wasn’t hurting too much. During the latter stages of labour I had a pregnant woman supporting herself by hanging off my neck, so give me a break. Still; that book will always be associated in my mind with that day. When it was all over and they eventually kicked me out of the hospital I went home to my empty house and then was immediately witness to a car crash directly in front of our front door. For some reason that just made things even more… poignant I suppose.
Kerry and I were looking through some photos from our old digital camera today. We found the first photograph ever taken of Amy. I was in two minds whether to post it here or not; I don’t want any grandparents seeing it and having a heart attack because they think we’ve had the baby and we forgot to tell them. Eventually I decided I would post the photo, mainly because my parents don’t read this blog so it would only be in-laws I’d be loosing.
I look at that photo and then think of the wonderful time we’ve had watching that baby turn into the beautiful girl we have now; and just revel in how lucky I am to be on the verge of going through all that again.
Ready when you are Evan. We’re looking forward to meeting you
Dan and I have been to the hospital clinic this morning to find out what’s happening with the baby. The test results from Tuesday show that I’m not diabetic, which was both good and bad news, especially as she said that meant they wouldn’t induce me.
This is what we’d been expecting but not what I really wanted to happen. I know induction is not ideal but I’m already worried about the baby getting even bigger. Then everything changed 5 minutes later, when the doctor came back from speaking to the consultant. He decided that as the sugar was showing up and the baby is term now anyway, they might as well start me off.
The consultant examined me (I’ll spare you the details) and it appears that my body is getting ready of its own accord. However if nothing happens over the next week, I’m booked into the hospital for induction on Friday 20th October…
At least I hope so. I am 39 weeks tomorrow so however you look at it the baby is going to be here soon. I was feeling quite calm about the impending labour until last Wednesday, when I found out that the baby’s ‘large for dates’.
It’s convenient how they work it out, your bump is measured in centimetres and it basically corresponds with the number of weeks you are. For example, last week I was 38 weeks and the bump should have been 38cm, give or take. However, when my midwife measured me for the 4th time, I knew something was up! I am showing 4cms bigger than I should be, so she referred me to the hospital clinic last week. The doctor confirmed the midwife’s suspicions and I’ve been back today to be tested for diabetes, as this may be a reason why the baby is getting big.
All in all, I’ve been trying not to worry for the past few days, but not doing very well. If I’m showing signs of diabetes, they’ll be starting me off this week, which is fine. What I’m more worried about is if they plan to leave me to it. I mean, he’s big now and surely only going to get bigger… I will know more on Thursday when I’m back at the antenatal clinic so I am trying not to think about it until then.
Apart from that, everything else is going reasonably well. Not getting much sleep, but that’s nothing new. We’ve started to get everything together in the nursery and I’ve nearly packed my bags for hospital (well, I know it’s all in the house and I assume I’ll have some warning!).
Dan and I are at the point where we just want to meet him now (and make sure he’s a ‘him’) and Amy’s definitely getting giddy about her little brother coming. She’s already corrected me when I said she can help me change his nappies. I was told that she would be changing his nappies and I can help her.
Nora Ephron
In childhood there are three types of time. There is the regular type - 60 seconds in every minute, 60 minutes in every hour. Then there is the super speedy variety; greatly compressed to around 30 seconds for each minute. This is the sort that you experience on those blissful summer days playing Robin Hood in the woods. Just as you’ve just found the perfect bent stick with which to fashion a bow then your mum is calling you in for tea. The final variety occurs during particularly boring maths lessons and also between the point that your mum says “just wait ‘till your father comes home†and the moment he actually arrives. It is slow to the point of torture, and should probably be banned under the Geneva Convention.
It is this last form of time that I seem to be experiencing now. The first 38 weeks of Kerry’s pregnancy seemed to fly by. Now each day crawls past at a snails pace. It probably doesn’t help that I’m finding work a particular pain in the arse at the moment, so the baby’s arrival will welcome a much appreciated excuse not to go in. Yes, yes, I’m aware that this attitude is both selfish and short sighted, but I am unapologetic. I’m going to have at least 18 years of being responsible for this child; the least it could do is give me a day off work.
Kerry, Amy and I went on the Stork Walk this afternoon. This is basically a guided tour around the maternity unit of the local hospital in order to familiarise yourself with the location and facilities and suchlike. The tour commenced in fine NHS fashion with the midwife opening the doors to the delivery suit and exclaiming “Oh dear, there seems to have been a power cut in here for some reasonâ€. A current of alarmed concern shot through the room of heavily pregnant ladies, each no doubt imagining giving birth in the dead of night with their partners frantically striking match after match in order to give the doctors enough light to see what they are doing. Of course that is pure fantasy. None of them will probably even catch a smell of a doctor while they are there.
It transpired that the emergency generators were being tested that day, hence the brief power outages. The rest of the tour went alright, and everything seemed pretty much in order. I now know where the ward is and what to do about parking and all the kind of stuff that I really don’t want to have to be worrying about if we end up having to make a panicked dash to the hospital in the middle of the night.
Amy was very well behaved throughout the whole affair. She spent nearly an hour of being led from room to room without a single complaint. She was particularly impressed by the pneumatic beds, and also took great delight in telling all the staff on the ward that she had got some brand new shoes.
After the stork walk we went to a third birthday party. I was chatting to one of the other dads there who has recently had another child. He confirmed that our current lackadaisical attitude to the imminent approach of our second child was not unusual.
“I insisted on finishing cooking and eating my dinner before we went to the hospital.†He confided. “I was bloody starving all the way through the birth last time, I didn’t want that happening again.â€
He also told me that he forget to bring the maternity bags with him and had to go back home to fetch them: “She was already calling me a stupid bastard and she hadn’t even gone into labour yetâ€.
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