A visit to the doctor

Things are never easy when visiting our NHS clinic. Erin and I were greeted by a very friendly doctor saying: 'So what seems to be the matter today?'

When Erin told him 'nothing' and that we were booked in for our pre-natal check-up with him he looked bemused and told us that he doesn't do that. He said he did post-natal but nothing before the birth.

We haven't seen our personal midwife, only temporary ones as ours has always been off. This mix up seems to have come from the temp, who not knowing our clinic, booked us in with the doctor who Erin last saw. Unfortunatley it doesn't work like this.

Anyway, Dr Castro - no relation - said he could take Erin's blood pressure and check what needed to be checked and would tell the doctor we should have seen the results 'to make sure he got everything right'.

So he did.

Erin's blood pressure is normal, the baby seems to be growing correctly - 25.2 cm for a 25 week pregnancy is normal, and we heard the traction engine heartbeat of the little one - 145 beats per minute. I shut my eyes and could imagine him stretching and kicking and generally showing off as he knew he was in the spotlight.

Erin's had a cold recently so we asked what she could take for it. The doctor was adamant she should only take paracetemol or herbal remedies. No strepsils or Hall's I'm afraid.

As she has had a bit (well, alot) of heartburn, Erin asked if the amount of Gaviscon she's taking is healthy. It is.

And she asked if she could fly in the next few weeks as she might need to take a trip home. He said the airline might need a letter but that letter would be easy to write as she's in perfect health.

At the end I went back to the heartburn issue. We've been told that as Erin has heartburn it's an indicator of the baby having either a lot of hair or red hair. I asked if he'd heard of this. He laughed: 'No I've never heard of this.' He went on to explain what heartburn was and ended by giggling 'come back and tell me if it is true, though'.

A policeman's helmet

We didn't go to the library this weekend as I mentioned we would. Erin and I were feeling a little groggy because of all the sneezing and blowing into tissues we were doing, so we had a lazy Saturday morning then went to Battersea Park for a walk.




I bought a Mother and Baby magazine and we devoured all its contents.

There was a great article on helping newborns sleep. I turned to it straight away as one of my worst fears in life is insomnia. And a major worry of parenthood is a persistantly crying baby at 1am. And 2am. all the way through to 3am. And further. Every night.

Despite being sponsored by a famous brand of nappies (or diapers), which in my mind slightly degrades it, the article was very informative.

Here are some hints it gave:

Make sure your baby is comfortable.
Put her in the cot when she's sleepy but awake.
Don't go back on the first whimper.
Music can help the baby drop off.
If she needs reassurance stay by the cot but don't make eye contact.
Don't let the baby fall sleep while feeding after 6 weeks.
And agree a strategy with your partner...and stick to it.

So we've got the baby asleep. Onto another issue.

While Erin, Simon, Sarah and myself were in Durham, a couple of weeks ago, it was brought up that it's stated in British law that pregnant women can use a policeman's helmet to relieve themselves in it if necessary.

But unfortunately that myth has been busted.

A journalist from Saturday's favourite read called the Metropolitan Police and their spokesperson said: 'Back in the 19th century this was a law, but fortunately,' for the police rather than mothers-to-be who are caught short, I suppose, 'it's not anymore.'

End of the road

This weekend we spent it in the company of mud, tents and loud music. Oh, and a great group of friends.

We went to the End Of the Road festival in Dorset. It's a boutique festival with only 5000 capacity. The bands included Mercury Rev, Calexico, Richard Hawley and my favourite, Bon Iver - here's one of his songs. There were a few great finds throughout the weekend too in The Young Republic, The Mountain Goats and Clare and the Reasons.

One highlight was when Clare (of Clare and the Reasons) apologised for eight years of George W Bush and started singing the tune of Somewhere Over The Rainbow with one word filling all the lyrics - Obama. On leaving the tent we saw a full rainbow arched over the festival. It sent shivers down our spines.

Everyone we were with who knows I write this blog kept asking me what I was going to write about regarding babies or impending fatherhood related to the festival.

Well, here are a few a few thoughts...

There were lots of families who attended the festival. It was great to see but it looked like hard work. The rain on Friday meant even those without children were trudging around. But to do this pushing a pram? It looked tough. The wheels got caked and it looked like no fun at all.

Looking at these families made me have two related independent thoughts; our lives are going to be immensely different this time next year, but also that having a baby doesn't necessarily mean you have to forfeit things. The babies can come along to places with us, just put ear protectors on them when around loud music.

I also saw that our weekends are going to be a whole lot different. Parents were up very early taking their children to learn circus skills or make clay sculptures or watch kids' movies. This was all happening while we were having a lie in or chomping on bacon butties, chatting about the previous night's bands, and discussing who wants to see what. Our priorities are about to change somewhat.

One random chat while we were walking from one stage to another really brought home how much we didn't know about pregnancy when when first started this venture. Our friend Sarah mentioned the time when we announced that we were pregnant to her and Simon while we were in France. None of us were sure if Erin would have been able to go to the festival as she would be almost 6 months in. 'Do you remember?' Sarah giggled. 'We didn't even know if Erin would be able to walk by then.' Between the four of us we have more degrees than people, a few Masters' and post grad diplomas yet we knew nothing about pregnancy.  So much for higher education.

Anyway, Erin walked around a lot.  She was fine.

On another note about music...

Kimya Dawson Sang on the main stage on Sunday.  She's a serious artist, formerly of the Moldy Peaches, but has a children's album out called Alphabutt. She kicked off her performance with the Alphabutt song.  It's all about poo.

After this we commissioned our friends, Fred and Caroline, to sing and record some old and new nursery rhymes.  I'll let you know what they come up with.

Watch it

'Look, you can watch it now,' Erin has just this minute shrieked.

I hadn't got a clue what she was talking about. Then she pointed at her belly, and there it was, visible movement from her bump with little pushes here and there.

It's the first time we've seen this. We can't stop looking and giggling.

The first baby shower

Last Thursday Erin's work colleagues threw her and another girl in the office, who's preggers, a babyshower.

She sent me excited texts when we was coming home on the bus. They played games and she ended up bringing back a lot of cute stuff.

Including:

A toy multi coloured elephant made out of recycled yarn

Baby Gap socks

A wrap around hooded towel for bath time

3 beige onesies with bears and stripes

A cloth photo album for first photos

3 sleeveless bodysuits

3 white onesies

2 white bibs

1 pair of underwear with frogs on

A hat

A snowglobe

And my favourite - a Gardenbug Foot Finder and Wrist Rattle set with ladybirds (or ladybugs) and smiley bright coloured insects to fit on the baby's wrists.  Unfortunately they don't fit mine.

Thank you Samina, Liana, Sioban, Therese, Vanja, Gail, Karina, Samsam and one year old Zachy.                                               

And thanks goes to Erin's sister, Robyn, who sent a lovely little woolen suit, a newborn one piece on the same day. As well as a little toy and stretch mark cream and face cream specifically for the lovely, glowing mum-to-be.

The sign of things to come?

This morning, about half an hour before we were due to get up, Erin turned over to hold me. I didn't think much of it at first. I blinked at the alarm clock and tried to drift back off to sleep. Erin had already effortlessly done this. But I couldn't as two little jabs in my back later, then 3 blatant kicks I was mesmerized. It went on until the alarm should have gone off, had I set it. The feeling of slump and haziness at 3 this afternoon was worth the little show the bump put on this morning.

I should get used to early morning wake ups shouldn't I?

Nappy valley

We took a trip to Wandsworth this morning.  Well, to most people it's known as Wandsworth, to others it's known as Nappy Valley.  

If you're pregnant and ever need to know you're not alone all you need to do is walk down Wandsworth High Street.  There are all sorts of mums and dads pushing their kids in their brand new strollers or dragging them along in their wellies in and out of the children's shoe shops, clothes shops, toy shops, natty odds and ends shops, and cafes. 

Or there are simply the mums-to-be going in and out the maternity wear shops.

It's an area of London simply booming because of fertility.

We were supposed to be going to Wandsworth Common for a nice stroll but didn't get past Petit Bateau, JoJo Maman Bebe, Pretty Pregnant et al. We skipped One Small Step (a childrens' shoe shop).  

We got one or two things but the prize possession is below, so people will know to stand up for Erin while travelling to work on the tube. 

It was free. A massive surprise considering the cost of everything else in the those shops.

Kick off

It's been a big weekend of sport.  The Olympics continued with Britain doing better than expected and the English Football Premier League started. Erin went up to Scotland to visit our friends Sarah and Robin and my mate JB came to London. 

John and I did the ridiculously boyish thing of setting the alarm clock for Rebecca Addlington's second gold medal chance, aimed to stay up and watch Paula Radcliffe in the marathon which started just after midnight on Saturday, and set the alarm again in the middle of the night to watch Michael Phelps' 8th gold medal race.  We let Paula down by giving up and falling asleep in the marathon but saw the live swimming.

Erin, up in Scotland, seemed to have a great time and kept texting me as such throughout.  On the way back one took me by surprise: 'I wish you could feel what I'm feeling and when I come home, maybe you will.'

When she did get home we caught up and chatted and laughed about what we'd got up to and then when it was time to relax a little she told me to do what I'd got excited but forgotten about doing earlier.

'Did you feel it?'

'No.'

'Move your hand down a little?.'

'There? And again.'

'Yes, and yes.'

I closed my eyes to imagine what was going.  A kick? Or punch? Or a stretch? Who knows? It was just incredible to think what is going on in there.  A growth of life.  Is this where the verb to describe feelings, moving, comes from? 

It was even better than the strike scored against Sunderland for Liverpool to secure their first win of the season.

A rockin' and a rollin'

'Jay, Jay, come here and calm the baby down.' This was Erin's call to me from the bedroom as she wasn't feeling too good yesterday morning and went for a little extra sleep in the morning. 

'It's a rockin' and a rollin' in there,' she said looking at me mischievously. 

She told me to talk to it so I started by saying that it shouldn't try to be Michael Phelps or Rebecca Adlington just yet and rubbed Erin's belly with soothing cream. She said that the fluttery feelings have now turned into waves of movement. We are sure we could see where her head was. I gave an extra gentle rub.

I think she's about to pop and show a lot more soon.

The little one in there just wants more space.

A wobble

If Erin hadn't gone into her chosen profession I think she could have been in the FBI - remember she is American - or just been a plain and simple spy.  She's ridiculously intelligent, calm under pressure, good at learning languages and is very discrete. For me on the other hand it's a different story.  Being a bit thick and freaking out at tiny things are just two reasons why not. So it came as a surprise to me when Erin had a slight wobble on Sunday night, which caused more than a tremor of a wobble in our place.  

I could see something happening when she was on the phone with her dad.  Erin's mum wasn't in when she made the weekly phone call home but her dad was.  They talked together about a few things then she asked how quickly it took for the kids to appear after the waters broke - conversations like these are popping up all over the place at the moment. 

She wanted to hear about the first born but he told a story about the third instead. He said: 'Originally when we got to the hospital with Robyn, we were told we would be waiting a while, adding it could even be up to 2 days when she would enter the world.  You're mum was told that she wasn't ready yet.'  

That information wasn't quite correct, however.  10 minutes later the third of the De Vos clan was all cuddled up and making her presence know.

(We haven't got her mum's account to verify this yet but as soon as we do I'll let you know.)

We don't have a car and our baby could be born on Christmas Day, Boxing Day or New Year's Eve or Day. And we've been told by a paediatrician friend that you should listen to your parents' stories as they are the closest you are going to get to retrospective advice.  Erin put these two thoughts together and quietly started the panic machine ticking.  Later, after obviously mulling it over while we were watching The Tudors, we started talking.

The following questions and statements were then asked by the both of us, not sure by who though for most of them:

What if the baby's born on Christmas day? 

What will we do?

What if there are no taxis?  

Could we take an ambulance? 

It could be born in the ambulance! 

Or worse, taxi! 

'I may have to deliver it!', I definitely said this, not Erin.

I continued, 'I'll have to take a class on how to deliver babies!'

We don't have any friends with cars here to help us! 

What are we going to do? 

We're not ready! 

We haven't planned enough!  

We haven't done anything! 

There was more and it took a lot shorter for us to say it all than you took reading it.

We eventually calmed down and Erin said: 'Up until now it's been easy, now it's just going to get more difficult. I'm about to get a lot bigger and this fluttery feeling I keep having is going to start kicking and moving.  (It really is.) But we'll be all right.'

We breathed and hugged.

It was a major reality check for us.  We are planning and will be ready. But sometimes doubts rise to the surface.   

I now have a list of taxi firms at hand and a list of questions - including can we call an ambulance if we think the arrival is imminent? - for the midwife when we see her next week.

Should I stop?

I went for a run this afternoon. On the north bank of the Thames near Embankment I saw a couple pushing a Bugaboo Bee pram. We're interested in getting one of these and there are a few on ebay at the moment so I stopped and asked them what they thought of it. Half way through my question I lost my breath and had to repeat the question. I must have come across as a stalker. They were very nice though, saying it's the best investment they had made and that the pram is very light and great for the city. They added that they are much lighter than Cameleons. Great, it's always good to get real life opinions, not just on-line reviews. But should I stop people like that or stop stopping people like that?

The green dinosaurs

Our friends, James and Claire, stayed over at our house last night.  They went to a wedding celebration in the afternoon then came to ours in the evening.  James was parking up when Claire came in.  She gave Erin a huge hug, then it was my turn, but she rubbed my belly too saying 'this is what we should do isn't it?' I was confused, and slightly self conscious - actually, very self conscious and know that pregnant women must feel ten times worse.  Then James came in with his own usual fanfare and the hugs were given with the following belly rub; once could have been a mistake, twice was an obvious ploy.  

I looked at them both and they said: 'We know the rules. We shouldn't rub Erin's belly, we know, we've been reading the blog on the way down here. So we thought we'd treat you.'  

Thanks guys.

James had printed the whole thing out and read it to Claire in the car.  Poor Claire.  And throughout the evening I heard my words quoted back to me about Angry Pregnant, conditions, and of course, belly rubbing.

The conversation stayed with babies for a while as the celebration they had come from was, apparently, teaming with little tykes.  James had been playing with a few of the toddlers and ended halfway up a chimney 'in the search for dinosaurs'.  So did he see any? 'No, I can't, silly, we adults can't see them but the kids tell me they are green.'  

Wow.

They've just recently had the arrival of their niece, Maia.  We were shown the photos from their Facebook page and on James' phone.  She was gorgeous.  I don't know what has happened to me since finding out about our pregnancy.  (I used to think they all looked like a very tired, beaten up, Winston Churchill, but now they seem to be adorable.  I'm obviously losing it.)  James gave us an insight into the first two weeks of a baby's life: 'They don't react to you, no smiles, they are just crying and shitting machines.'

As the weekend progressed I'd love to say the conversation did too. But aside from a little Olympics, Russia/Georgia issue and general catch up, with them living very near to their god daughters, we had lots of lively debates about how to bring up children.  It was great, but it's these conversations I'm only just getting used to joining in with. It was unchartered territory until only a few months ago. 

Half way point

When I was training for my marathon, halfway through my runs, a very welcome little voice appeared in my Ipod saying half way point after which the young lady counted down the miles then meters to the end.

Well this is where we're at with Erin's pregnancy. We've had the warm up, muscles are now getting used to the exercise and Erin is in full swing, ready for the tougher more energy sapping part heading to the finish line.

She's now almost 20 weeks in and according to our emails from gurgle.com she's about to get more fluttering sensations, which Erin is talking about getting a little at the moment. These feel a little weird but worse aches and pains are apparently going to begin soon (Oh no, but this really does sound like marathon training).

The baby should now have a cream film over it called vernix. It protects him from becoming waterlogged by the amniotic fluid. Premature babies have this over them when they come out but if our little one arrives at the right time the film will have gone. The arms and legs should be in the correct proportion and he's developing a layer of fat to keep him warm. If he's a girl she is now carrying half her eggs, which will help her, eventually, make Erin a grandma - not too soon though, hopefully.

From now on we are going to shoot a video each week of Erin - reluctantly might I add - walking around to show her state of pregnancy. Some weeks I'll put it up on the blog, others I won't. At the end though, I'll thread it together and we'll have a film of Erin walking through London, different parts of England and bits of Europe, but more importantly through her pregnancy. It's got a working title of Not Quite A Walk In The Park. Here's the first...

A distant chance of naming the baby after a distant relative

Erin's dad, Bud, has just sent us an email with two name ideas for boys.

His family has a distant connection to England in the baby's great-great-grandfather who was called Orville. So he's put this name up for proposal, as well as his last name, Tyler.

Erin's brother's middle name is Tyler so we would have to ask uncle Seth if he wouldn't mind, which incidently, Erin and I have considered.  

As for Orville, who Bud did follow up saying that he should be a pilot or at least design planes. I have my concerns.  British people will know exactly what I mean when I sing - altogether now:

I wish I could fly

right upto the sky

but I can't

You can

I can't

Orville was a ventriloquist's puppet duck from a dubious comic in the 1980s. Actually, here's the song.

Tyler, maybe. But no to Orville for our child, I'm afraid.

But, I ask Bud, what about if she's a girl? 

Junior kick start*

Erin an I were in bed last night chatting about Seth's wedding when she said: 'I think I just felt the baby kick.' With a slight pause, probably to reduce my imminent over-excitement, she followed up with 'but it was probably just wind'.

She said it felt like a tiny little bubbly-air-push in the lower area of her belly. Hopefully it was a kick, maybe it was a little sucker punch. As Erin's going into her 19th week she's dues to feel something. We were only talking earlier, with a hint of worry, that she hadn't felt anything and that the pregnancy magazines and books all mention it could possibly start in week 18.

To get the baby kicking it's apparently a good idea to down a glass of cold water. We were going to do that before Erin felt it independently. I'm glad I forgot to put the water in the fridge.

*Note.  Junior kick Start was a TV favourite of young boys in the early 80s in the UK featuring a motorbike competition with lots of mud during summer holidays.

Girly time...with me too

On Saturday night after we'd had a feast of food, too many laughs - you may think you can never have too many but after Indian food, believe me, you can - and played a game, things were settling down when Alison said to Erin that she should go with her and Kirsty.

Alison was born to be a mother.  She also loves to pass on advice and anything else, if she can. In this instance it was maternity clothes.  She'd mentioned that Erin could have a few clothes, which Erin was very grateful for, so off they went upstairs.

I went up a few minutes later to see what was going on and they were just finishing with the first large sackful of clothes. Alison had stored  her clothes as well as some from a few other friends. There were maternity PJs, skirts, trousers - the elasticated ones which would be great for any fat person - jeans, fleeces, tight tops, loose tops, classy-dressy-dresses and loungey-softy-comfy-joggers.  The lot.

I was also told to try on the baby carrier.  It took three women, manhandling me like I've never been before, for a good few minutes, to get it on but once it was on and a teddy bear was stuffed in it I walked around almost as proud as I will be when I'm walking around London with my little one.

After this, most people left and we were on our way too but not before we got a lesson in nappies (or diapers).  Alison and Railton use the reusable ones which are good for the environment. We'd like to too and so got Alison to give us the lowdown.  We left feeling a little more knowledgeable. And for those days when you just need to use disposable ones, apparently the discount supermarket Lidl does a large pack for a fiver. 

Boy talk

I work with a lot of women and most of my London male friends, and female friends for that matter, don't have children. So on Saturday night when we went to see a group of our friends, some with young children, I spied that it was my chance to see what men think about pregnancy and impending fatherhood.

I'm not sure I was ready for the conversation we were about to have though.

We were in the garden passing a football around (for those in the US we were kicking a round ball).  After we stopped the sport  - both doing and talking about it, and we'd made sure everyone's jobs were as mundane as everyone else's, I asked what it was like to have a little one around 24/7. 

Railton said it's something you just know you have to get used to, do get used to and end up not being able to live without. Simon agreed.  They both talked about it being the best thing they've ever done. 

They asked if we were going find out the sex of the baby, which we're not. They didn't want to either but Railton and Alison were told at their second scan.  It was because of potential difficulties but they weren't told in a very nice way. Something like you do know it's a boy don't you.

Simon then spoke about, in his words, the worst thing about the whole thing - childbirth. 

But you weren't the one who had to go through it, I thought.  I said, 'Why was this then, mate?'

He then took a deep breath and started. 'When Kirsty's waters broke I called the hospital and told them, they said we should wait for regular contractions. And here's my first bit of advice,' he said and paused, 'Wait as long as you physically think is possible to go to the hospital.  You can be relaxed at home.  When you're at the hospital you just want it over and done with.

'We waited quite a while and eventually went to hospital. Everything was going really well until right at the very end and the little one got stuck. The doctor and midwife were taking their time, being very patient, no one was panicking but I was getting very worried.  They eventually said that they were going to have to operate and that I should get some scrubs on.

'When I was ready I went to the operating theatre but they wouldn't let me in.  This was the worst period of time in my life. Ever. I don't know how long it took but it felt longer than forever. When I got in, all I saw was a huge mess and blood around Kirsty.  The little one was dragged out with a  vacuum extractor - it's pretty much a medical plunger. It was terrifying. When she had been born the next thing I saw was a big middle eastern looking doctor around Kirsty giving her stitches. I shudder at the memory.  

'The midwife and nurses were great and calmed me down by offering me a beef sandwich. Kirsty hardly remembers a thing.

'So I would advise Erin to get any and all the painkillers they are offering.  For all that pain, apart from the baby, there's no other reward.  I wouldn't be a hero.'

He then breathed again.  I don't know if he always tells that story or has been storing it up for a while but it was uttered with high octane energy.

I went in the house a bit later to order some food.  I told Erin she might not want to talk to Kirsty about her childbirth.  She said: 'I know, I've already heard.'

North-south divide

We've been up north this weekend vitising friends and family. On Saturday afternoon we went for a walk around two reservoirs. It was great to see lots of young families out and about. Erin and my dad had me playing the name-the-buggy game. As opposed to London's many Bugaboo Cameleons there were an awful lot of Silver Cross and Maclaren pushchairs. I don't think we even saw one Quinny until we went to church on Sunday.

What's in a name?

In our search of names we've scoured lists and books, and our imaginations to think of something perfect for our little boy or girl.  We're still not going to tell you any of our choices, especially after our first lesson in pregnancy - scroll down to the bit about Erin's mum.  But here is a bit of inspiration to our eventually answer.

Top ten baby names in UK in 2007:

1 Jack      

2 Thomas

3 Oliver

4 Joshua

5 Harry

6 Charlie

7 Daniel

8 William

9 James

10 Alfie

1 Grace

2 Ruby

3 Olivia

4 Emily

5 Jessica

6 Sophie

7 Chloe

8 Lily

9 Ella

10 Amilia

Boring. Or our friends and family have snagged them already.

And in the US:

1 Jacob 

2 Michael

3 Joshua

4 Ethan

5 Matthew

6 Daniel

7 Christopher 

8 Andrew

9 Anthony

10 William 

1 Emily

2 Emma

3 Madison

4 Isabella

5 Ava

6 Abigail

7 Olivia

8 Hannah

9 Sophia

10 Samantha

As bad.

If you want to check out when names have been popular, click on this. It's very entertaining. Hours, if not more than a century, of fun, in fact. 

Here's something else from the same author, she also wrote this.  Can you think of any more names that would be great if they weren't words already?  I have a theory - and this is not for the faint of heart - that some STIs and diseases would make great posh English names if they weren't STIs or diseases.  Try shouting Clamydia or Diarrhea in a British home counties accent. It works perfectly.  And they could be shortened to Clammy and Dee, or possibly Rea.

You can also find out the meaning of names to help with inspiration.  

I'm getting carried away, I was just about to write our top ten list of names.  But Erin says no. So I won't.

Made in China

Technically the baby wasn't made in China but like most goods these days it might as well contain the country's kite mark.

For those who don't know, Erin and I met in the middle kingdom and it has had quite an effect on our relationship and friendships.

One of these friendships we hold dear to us is with Joy (Zhang Jun) our Chinese language teacher in Cardiff.  Our lessons would usually turn from getting the correct stroke order of the characters to discussions about life (mainly in English), and since we left we've kept in touch as much as we can.  

When we called Joy to tell her that we're pregnant she said she would think of a Chinese name for the child.

She must have been excited about our news as when she got off the phone she put all her attention into the task.  When we visited her the other weekend she gave us a piece of paper with a few ideas on it.  She put our Chinese names together and came up with... Ai Jie. 

It means love and understanding. Erin's part is the love and mine the understanding.  I actually didn't know my name meant understanding, which doesn't bode well does it?  That said, we love it.  It's also gender neutral.  Pity we can't find a western name.

Erin throws a few out every now and again.  But we still haven't found a solid favourite.  So we might be using the Chinese one for the first few months.  Thank you, Chinese Godmother, Joy.