Random musings of an 8 week old dad

I still find it hard to think of myself as a dad. It’s easier to accept that I’m a parent. I imagine that you don’t feel like a dad until you can interact with your child and somehow begin to guide them along their path.

It’s very easy to get lost in the day to day maintenance of changing nappies, winding and soothing and forget that the baby you are maintaining is your very own flesh and blood. Every now and again I stare at his beautiful face and remind myself that I had a hand in creating him.

Already I’m aware of just how much he’s changed not only physically but also mentally. He’s very alert now. He’ll quite happily watch you as you talk to him. A frown flickers across for a second and he tries to mimic your mouth movements. His attempts to talk back are limited to a string of ‘coos’ and ‘aaahs’ but he’s trying. He’ll watch you come into a room and walk past him. Those big brown eyes follow you everywhere. He’s already making preferences on his toys (loves ‘Mr Clip-clop’ and his cot mobile. Not sure about much else). His smile is used more and more each day. A session of ‘tickle the tummy’ usually elicits one along with a squeal of delight accompanied by a thumping of the legs. A few nights ago we caught him kicking his cot mobile toys as they swung past.

Just watching him develop is rewarding enough. One only has to look back a few weeks to when he was largely oblivious of the surrounding world and those that care for him.

We’re starting to get into a routine of sorts. It’s not perfect but I think we’re starting to get him to understand that night is for sleeping. He’s certainly more awake during the day, now. Nights are a little less of a battle thankfully. For the most part, he settles himself to sleep with only minimal intervention from one of us.

It’s hard to put into words the depth of feeling I have for my son. It’s almost flippant to just admit that I love him. The words certainly aren’t enough. There are many different kinds of love, but none as strong and pure as the love you have for your child. When I look at his little round face, I can’t help but to whisper him a thousand promises.

Each day is a challenge. Some we win, some we lose. It’s hard work and it can be very tense and tiring but there is certainly nothing in life as rewarding. I’m determined to enjoy every single second with Luke. Time passes too quickly and once this moment has passed all we have is the memory of it. I want every memory to be rich and vivid so I can revisit them with total clarity anytime I wish. As he lays sleeping in my arms, his peaceful face turned towards mine I vow that I could spend a hundred years like that and never tire.

He’s growing fast, as you can see.

5 weeks later

I can’t believe just how quickly the past five weeks have gone. Our little boy is five weeks (and one day!) old already and he’s changed so much in that time. He’s gone from tiny little wrinkled newborn to a tiny little boy who’s only just starting to interact with the world. He stares contentedly at his musical mobile. His eyes beaming with delight each time one of the colourful animals makes a pass before his eyes. Sitting in his chair, “Mr Chicken”, a brightly coloured plastic animal attached to the chair, catches his attention and with all the concentration he can muster, he attempts to swipe it with a fisted hand. It’s fascinating to watch this blank canvas start to take colour.

I think I finally feel like a parent. Once the visitors have stopped coming around, the congratulatory balloons have deflated and the celebratory flowers have withered and gone you realise that this is now your life. It is not a joyful but momentary interruption.

The first weeks were the hardest. It took me a while to really get into the swing of things and really bond with Luke; through no fault of his. I was very ill when he was born. Debbie didn’t want me really doing much for Luke until I was better. This was not only very altruistic but also protecting Luke from taking a tumble if I collapsed again. The result was that I felt that I wasn’t yet a parent but merely an observer. She was expertly changing nappies and dressing him and I stared at him knowing that I could do nothing for him. It wasn’t until the end of the week and I finally felt that I could take care of his basic needs. Then we stared at him a lot wondering what we were supposed to do.

Night times were a battle. His feeding was erratic and painful for Debbie and he wouldn’t settle on his own. He had to be held all the time. This is not actually a chore. I love holding him and feeling his warmth but there are occasions that you just need both of your arms to get things done.

Now, I feel that we’re making some progress. His feeding has settled down with only the odd fussing here and there. Night times are better now that he sleeps between us in his own little “Snuggle Nest” and will happily settle in the evenings in his rocker chair.

I wake each day and look forward to what it may bring. I know we have many more challenges to beat along the way but I finally feel like a dad.

The Birth Story

I was going to write a verbose version of the birth story, but Debbie captured it perfectly here, so I won’t repeat it.

Needless to say that almost everything in the lead up to the birth went wrong and we had to deal with my illness, Debbie’s contractions and the local maternity hospital closing all in the same day.

Witnessing the birth was nothing short of fantastic. It was such a beautiful experience. There was only one midwife in the room and she dimmed the lights down very low. She was one side of Debbie and I was the other. I coached Debbie when to push and was so vocal that the midwife stopped saying when to push and left it up to me! I watched with fascination as a tiny part of the back of Luke’s head appeared and disappeared with each contraction until after one big push his whole head was out. The cord was around his neck and he passed meconium in the womb which meant that I couldn’t cut the cord and the paediatrician doctor had to be paged urgently in case he needed resuscitation. Thankfully he didn’t. One more push completed his birth.

All things considered, it was a very calm experience. Debbie was absolutely amazing too. No swearing, no screaming and no drama. Perfect.

Luke is here!

I will post a more elaborate entry at some point in the near future when I have more than a few moments of free time. There’s a lot to post. The labour was full of drama. I passed out with the flu the morning that our son was to be born. We were told that our local maternity unit was closed for the first time in its history sending us on a 30 mile detour while Debbie’s contractions were coming every two minutes and her waters had gone.

Thankfully, I witnessed the perfect birth of our son and the most important thing of all went very well. It was a relatively calm experience with just the one midwife in a nice delivery room with the lights dimmed down low. The memory will live with me forever.

Luke Kian Matthew Mecham
Born at 3:53 on 13th March weighing 6lb 11oz.

Here are some photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=22081&l=66dcc&id=516237797

Five Frantic Days Left

We both hear “Not long now!” quite a lot.

And they’re not wrong. We are only five days from our estimated due date. Five days. Our baby can come at any time and Debbie is showing a few signs that it may be sooner than later.

As the arrival of our little bundle of joy could be imminent we’re both a little cautious when making plans or even when leaving one another alone. Debbie has done very well to keep her independence but even she, at 39 weeks, has decided that it’s not wise to drive and less wise to go out for hours on her own.

It’s funny how quickly you become used to being pregnant. At first it felt like a major change in our lives and then it became normal. Now we’re facing the shift from pregnancy to owning a brand new baby which will be another huge life change. In time, though, it will become normal.

The fact that this chapter of my life is almost over is driving me with a ferocity that I didn’t expect. I’ve been a keen exerciser for many years. Recently this has gone into over-drive. I’ve thrown myself into it. I’m running 5km in the morning and working out for 30-45 minutes during my lunch hour.

I’m also incredibly focused on my work, which makes a pleasant change. Suddenly I have an overwhelming urge to get as much done as I can, while I can.

It’s not so much that I am trying to hang onto this old life. It’s more than I’m determined to go out on a high.

It may be a while before our routine allows for full concentration on work and time to exercise, but it will eventually. Until then, I’m cramming in as much as I can.

It blows my mind to think that no matter what happens, we’ll be parents in a little over two weeks at the latest.

The nursery is complete!

Finally. It’s complete.

We ordered the furniture from Kiddicare back in very early December and were told to expect a 6-8 week wait. What a long 6-8 weeks that was!

We ordered the ‘Susannah’ range from ‘KidsMill’ who are based in Holland. They come over and assemble it for you, which is an added plus. My rudimentary D.I.Y skills can stretch to assembling flat-pack furniture but I’d rather leave my child’s safety to the professionals. Plus, if they break anything, then it’s their fault and Debbie can glare at them and not me.

Around 5pm on the 11th of February we had a knock at the door. We knew who it was because we’d spent nearly 15 minutes watching two men re-arrange half their (massive) lorry to extract our furniture. Two very nice Dutch men were at the door. They were wearing clogs. No, I’m being serious. They were fancy leather ‘business shoe’ looking; but definitely clogs. I offered to help them in with the boxes and they nervously glanced at each other before telling me in quite good English that I may. They helpfully picked out the lightest boxes for me. I did debate whether I should tell them that my exercise regime incorporates weight lifting and that I was more than capable but decided against it. I’m sure Dutch health and safety laws are no more lax than our own.

Having two Europeans in our house caused an interesting reaction within me. Suddenly I felt as if I was an Ambassador for England. Despite the fact that they probably travel all over Europe assembling furniture and have been over in the UK many times before, I couldn’t help but feel that I should put on a jolly good show for old Blighty.

I offered them a drink. Which was a mistake because all we had was builder’s tea, green tea, instant coffee and water. That’s not much of a selection for two sophisticated Dutch men. They’re probably used to the finest coffees in Europe. How embarrassing! I felt I should apologise when I fulfilled their request for two coffees. “I’m sorry it’s only instant. We do have some good coffee shops in this country, it’s just that we’re not much for coffee in this house. Please accept my apologies. Honestly, we’re not uncultured pigs”.

Naturally, I never said that. That would have made me look crazy when I was doing so well keeping it a secret. I’m almost sure that these two men probably live in their truck when they’re over here and drink service station coffee all the time. That’s what I convinced myself of, in any case.

Nearly three hours later, the nursery was complete. Farewells bid, we rushed back upstairs to marvel at our finished nursery.

We’re really having a baby. Here are some pictures of Flump’s room.

We’re engaged!

No, not Debbie and I. We’ve been engaged for a while. Our little baby has finally got his or her head firmly wedged into Debbie’s pelvis.

It was our midwife appointment today which is something we both look forward to. We have a nice friendly midwife who’s very pleasant if not a little scatty.

She wasn’t there today and we both groaned. The first midwife we saw for a routine appointment months ago wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t overly warm either. Brisk and business-like is possible the most polite way of putting it. Since we’ve ‘found’ Jo, we’ve not wanted anyone else.

We were surprised to note that our midwife-de-jour was actually very nice. This wasn’t apparent just from looking at her. Her stocky frame squeezed into her blue scrubs with a battle-worn matronly cardigan pulled tightly over her torso. Her greying brown hair pulled back into a tight and short pony tail. Her experience weathered face finished the ensemble, giving the appearance of a strict headmistress more used to dealing out corporal punishment than catching babies.

Thankfully, we weren’t there for either today. She took Debbie’s blood pressure, joking that the cuff was ‘nicely warmed up now’. We had a brief discussion about fetal movements as Debbie mentioned she hadn’t felt any, which was Flump’s cue to start wriggling before Debbie was asked to clamber onto the bed.

After the fundal measurement was taken, she had a good feel for the head and after consulting with our notes announced that Flump was now 1/5th engaged. This was something we’d waited, well, 35 weeks to hear. Our unborn was getting into position to be welcomed into the world. This sent a wave of euphoria through me. We’re almost there. It really won’t be long, now.

Prodding concluded, the sonic probe squelched  before revealing our little baby’s beating heart. Before I heard the rhythmic beating, a strange creeping thought flickered for a second; there is no baby. There never was. It disappeared a second before the room filled with sound. She had the probe very low down almost under the bump. She explained that she was hearing the heartbeat through his or her shoulder and noted how low the probe was to give us a better understanding of just how low our little one is now. She also showed us which direction Flump was laying; bum to the right, limbs to the left. I started intently at Debbie’s exposed abdomen and summoned up a vision of an imaginary baby laying there all curled up. Another wave of euphoria. There’s really a  baby in there.

We’re considered full term in just over a week. What a journey it’s been already and what a journey life will be.

Random Thoughts This Week

I’ll be thirty two soon. We’re nearly thirty five weeks pregnant. Where did that time go? I’ll have a child when I’m thirty three. Is that too old? I guess not these days. How old was my dad when he had me? Twenty two… twenty three?

I can’t let Debbie see how emotional that SMA advert made me, or I’ll never live it down.

I wonder what our baby looks like now. I’d love another 4D scan. I know it’s too late though. We’ll get to meet him or her for real soon.

I think it’s a boy. We’ll buy blue clothes and I’ll teach him how to ride his bike.

I love her bump. It looks best in her pajamas. It still takes me by surprise when she walks into a room. I helped create that.

I wish I could bottle how I feel right now and keep it forever.

Her eyes are so blue when she cries. I hope her pain eases soon. I hope our baby has her eyes. They’re beautiful.

I think it’s a girl. We’ll buy her pink clothes and I’ll teach her how to ride her bike.

I wish I could feel more kicks. Flump seems to hide from me. She loves playing that game. I can’t wait to read her stories.

I hope I don’t pass out in the delivery suite.

I hope she knows just how proud I am of her.

Next time I go to the dentist, I’ll be a dad.

Am I idealising parenthood? Am I making it out to be bigger than it is? Or more attractive than it is? Or more dramatic than it is? I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Look at those tiny sleep-suits. Our baby will be in one of those soon.

I hope I have the strength and fortitude to be the father I want to be. I’m terrified of failing my new family.

I can’t wait. We could have a baby in less than a month. I can’t even comprehend that.

Are you ready?

During a post Christmas visit, our friend who became a father for the first time almost a year ago asked “Are you all ready, then?”

It’s a simple enough question, glibly presented in expectation of a quick reply. I pondered for a moment and replied with “Is anyone every really ready?”. I thought I was being smart but this exchange of words echoed in my mind long after our goodbyes were said.

Is anyone ever really ready for their first child? How can you prepare? I’ve read a stack of books on pregnancy, birth and fatherhood. They are very useful but I get the nagging feeling it’s like planning for a trip to the moon.

But that’s just learning how to care for a baby. All that takes is a little patience and a lot of practise.

Am I ready to have my life changed forever? That’s the bigger question.

Am I ready to have my daily reading replaced with implausible tales chronicling unrealistic relationships between farmyard animals. Am I ready to have my DVD collection replaced with bright primary colours and repetitive songs about odd looking creatures living in daily fantasy. Am I ready to have my life turned upside forever?

Yes. Not only am I ready, but I can’t wait for it to happen. My future is in being a father. Everything previous seems so far away and so empty.

Our 4D Scan

We finally got to see what our little baby looks like. Although it was more of a special preview of what’s to come in March, it took my breath away.

It’s one thing to see one’s child wriggling on a 2D ultrasound, but it’s another to see them with such clarity as they smile, suck their fingers and yawn. For the first time we were able to determine how our genes have been cooked. We deduced that Flump has Debbie’s nose (much to her relief!) and my lips. It’s a strange thing to see body parts that you’re intimate with transposed onto your child.

The entire session lasted for little over half an hour. Flump was behaving for the most part although she took to hiding behind her hands and a foot at one point. The sonographer asked Debbie to push her fingers into her abdomen to keep Flump’s hands down. It was quite unique to see the effect that direct external stimuli has.

The geek in me found the technology very interesting. Not only was she able to rotate the image on the X and Y axis but she was able to rotate it around the Z axis too. In simple terms, she could rotate a frontal shot to make it a profile shot with a deft combination of the trackball. Not content with just that, she was also able to remove some of the placenta from an image that was obscuring part of her face before rotating it back to make a perfect image.

It is very hard to connect what we were seeing on screen with that fact that our child is growing inside Debbie’s abdomen. It’s hard to marry the fact with the absolute reality of it. We weren’t seeing a baby on the screen. We were seeing our baby. Our baby. That we made.

Suddenly it’s getting real. The end of the pregnancy is very much insight and I don’t think it’s really sunk in that at some point during March we’ll have a baby.

Our baby. Our beautiful baby.

Here’s a gallery of the images and a copy of the entire DVD.