Wednesday, April 29, 2009

As threatened. In which I talk about Daniel Craig's Perfectly formed Arse and the Eger Equation. I am nothing if not a nerdy mama.

My birth story. I'm afraid it isn't as eloquent as Matt's over at Maybe Baby, but that's ok. After all their years of infertility, Matt and Constance get to be eloquent. And compared to Matt, I'm just a crap writer.

Friday afternoon: I go out to lunch with a friend and order risotto. That's significant because when I went into labour with Patrick my mum made me risotto and I then threw it all up in her car on the way to hospital, so it's become a running joke with mum and I.
: Mum is looking after Patrick, so MrT and I watch Quantum of Solace, which I later regret as it means I have had no afternoon nap for the first time in 4 weeks. This is a BAD decision, as it turns out, only slightly compensated for by Daniel Craig: there's no beach scene in this one. (Phwoar). That's when I start feeling niggly badness, somewhere pelvicward.
:2100hrs- the badness pelvicwards has turned into 6 minutely contractions
:2330- there is now Pain, and 5 minutely ctrx's
:0100- the pain is developing teeth. I run a deep bath and get an hour's relief.
:0200- fuggit. I need drugs
:0300- Am greeted by an "Oh He-llo" at the midwives' desk of delivery by my friend H who is doing an overnight shift there as the doctor on-call. We joke in between contractions as she puts in my drip. She uses local anaesthetic because otherwise I would kill her (so I say) but it still hurts. F-ing 18g. At least it was only 18g- at work the protocol is 16g
:0500- stable-ish. I'm curious as to what's going on. My midwifey does a VE and it's a whole 3cm with a huge bag of forewaters. "When that goes you'll go quicker".
I actually manage to sleep in between contractions and N2O. I'm heard to utter "Thank you Horace Wells".
:0830-ish. The obstetrician on duty comes in to see me, and I am going nowhere, still stuck at 3cm with the bulging waters. After a brief discussion we agree to an ARM. As SOON as the waters are broached- OMFG! THE PAIN!! THE PAIN!!! The obstetrician says that as soon as he did it he could feel the head come down "a long way". You don't say. Things speed up. A helluva lot. The N2O is doing freak all. I'm desperately trying to remember the Eger equation which tells you what factors influence the speed of onset of an inhaled anaesthetic (like nitrous) to see if there's anything I can voluntarily do to make it work faster. Normally, I can recall it perfectly :

But now, all I can get is this:
(This is the exact shade of purple I see when I'm sucking down the nitrous and the world starts s l o w i ng dooo o o o o o w w n n n n)

I call for an epidural. I feel like I'm about to burst apart. There is some delay in his arrival: I'm told later the on-call anaesthetist didn't ?want to come ?couldn't be contacted? something, so I get my friend and colleague S. Thank GOD. He taught me how to DO epidurals- I remember standing with him in PACU one evening when I was a very junior registrar stressing about my lack of experience and him saying "Doing an epidural with loss of resistance to saline is dead easy, jen. I reckon you could do it with your arse" and then him miming putting in an epidural by pushing sideways with his bum. "You'll be fiiiine". So I have every confidence. I'm only slightly concerned by the fact that I am standing half-naked (bottom half naked) with my arse pointing at the doorway, leaning into a bean bag on my bed, giving him a beautiful view of my posterior as the first thing he sees walking in. I worry for a split second about never being able to look him in the eye again. It is only a split second.

In retrospect I was in transition: I said some very odd things, apparently, none of them too embarassing, but I did beg S to fill in the gaps on the Eger equation for me. He laughed, but I was serious, in that very earnest way of women in transition.

He does a CSE, and the spinal drops my blood pressure to 50 systolic. The room is all hazy and far away, it's black and white and I feel like I'm about to pass out, but I couldn't care less, as the pain has gone. I am somewhat confused as to why S feels my wrist pulse and then moves on to my carotid, but it doesn't occur to me to feel at all concerned. Because the pain has Gone. He tells me he's going to give me something for my BP but I don't care because the Pain has Gone. I discover all this much later, and learn: as long as you don't feel vomity, being hypotensive isn't that bad a feeling. It's like falling asleep. And the pain's gone.

1030: I've gone from 3cm to 9cm in two hours; only an anterior lip of cervix remains. Did I mention the pain has gone?
1130: the obstetrician reappears. I remember now meeting this Obstetrician for the first time a few months prior- he started working in our hospital probably only 6 months ago. We were doing a late night Cesar, and I noted this young man standing in the corner of my theatre that I didn't know. So I approached him and said "Hi, I'm Jen the anaesthetist. Are you a medical student?" to which he replied "Ah, no, I'm (Joe Bloggs) the obstetrician". I'm pretty much sure I blushed and ran away, so not a good start to someone who now has his hand up my jaxie.
"There are some late dips on the CTG, so we had better give this baby a hand along. I'd like to do a Ventouse". Hey, you're the boss, dude. And I had two days earlier dug out my old copy of Beischer and Mackay and had refreshed my memory about early and late dips: late are bad.

1148: Two pushes is all it takes and I have a baby! A HUUUUGE baby! 2 stitches and we're done.

Hospital log
Day 0. Lunch, shower, upstairs to the maternity ward, nap. More nap. Mum and Patrick arrive. baby still asleep: actually hypothermic and hypoglycaemic. Oops. Express colostrum, visit O in SCNU. O is for observation overnight in the nursery, so we are sent to bed at 9.30 pm. I wake at 5 am feeling slightly guilty and confused, and pad down the corridor to the SCNU where O is now warm, normoglycaemic and ready to roll.

Day1. Ollie is a LOT more settled than P. On day 0 we could put this down to his hypos, but now it's ?nature ?nurture? Who knows- who CARES? Not us. He's not a screamer, and for that we are eternally grateful.
So far so good mood-wise. Feel much more connected with the baby. He's mine, I just 'know'.
P visits after a long day looking at steam trains.
Incidentally, the chicken craving - vanished! Whoof. Gone. All Gone.

Day 2. Started well. I was overwhelmed by the fullness in my heart for my two little boys and my little family. I miss Patrick, badly. Not much sleep overnight but I manage to have good naps during the day. However, the day sours as the nursery midwives tell me off for leaving my baby so as I could go outside and get some fresh air, and then in the evening, another midwife tells me off for leaving my room without having Ollie in his cot. Apparently it's hospital policy, but no-one told me. Hormones plummeting, tears arrive. Boobs become engorged and enormous. Tempted to request Enoxaparin since I'm apparently, it would seem, not allowed to leave my room.

Day 3. Surprisingly good night, slept 'til 7 from 2.30.
Boobs, boobs, boobs. Boobs bigger than belly for the first time in months. Huge dirigibles on my chest where my boobs once were. Boobs.
Mood much better; still in a daze at baby's calm. Lucky us!

Day 4. Much worse. Epic breastfeeding battle lasting 3 and a half hours. (Sounds like an episode of Iron Chef- "Breastmilk Battle- whose cuisine will reign supreme?") A conga line of suckholes each wake me up and then tell me that I should be napping when the baby naps. No DERRR. I finally manage to get to sleep at 1130 (up since 0330) and then woken for another feed at 1230 that goes until 1530. The staff were !wanting me to !go home this morning! Feck that! Have not yet been brave enough to wear sleep mask obscenity side out, but bloody well tempted. Can I say I liked my baby better when he was jaundiced and sleepy? I miss Patrick. I miss life. Because of my run-ins with the staff yesterday I also miss going outside for a walk.

Day 5. Homeward bound. I get up at the crack of dawn to de-stamen the lillies in between breastfeeds. MrT picks me up and we strap Ollie to his seat and head home. The future awaits. Actually, the bedroom and day/night confusion await.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

More photos

Day 11. We have up days and down days. Today is def an up day: Oliver slept well in between feeds and I feel like I have actually slept. I will have a sleep this arvo, but otherwise I feel like I know the difference between night and day, which is not an exaggeration.

Because MrT hates having his photo on the interwebs I'm restricted in what I can put up here, but here's a few more photos and a v. cute video.

This is the hoodie I knitted for Patrick in those 'waiting' days. It turned out pretty well, IMHO. I was going to make it a zippered one, but the toggles are cute.
And here is Patrick in it (before toggles) Mmmmm, snuggly. The yarn is an interesting mix of alpaca, merino, linen and polyamide.
Finally, brotherly love. Actually Patrick screaming "MY TURN! MY TURN! MINE HOLD BABY OLLIVERRRRRRRR!"

Actually, no, that's patrick walking around in my daggy slippers. Sorry it's a bit dark.

This is what I meant to share:

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Day 8

It's hard to believe that Oliver was born only 8 days ago. And it's also hard to believe it has been a whole 8 days since he was born. I'm wandering around in that sleep-deprived/distorted state that can only come with either demand breastfeeding or prolonged on-call (1:1) as a surgeon at a busy metropolitan hospital. I am managing to get rest when Oliver does, mostly, although this afternoon is the first time I have felt awake enough to catch up on some correspondance and stuff. I'm still working up to posting my hospital log, so don't run away screaming just yet: much more to come.

I am only now realising what I missed out on with Patrick's early days: with Oliver I have made that instant bond- the equating the baby that was within me to the baby in my arms. Only rarely do I miss the full belly feeling of pregnancy (mostly in the early morning when he *still* won't stop feeding). With Patrick I would have quite freely have given away my newborn- with Oliver i am already a protective mama bear. I am marvelling at every inch of his fuzzy head and warm, soft body. Even his poo is marvellous (just not at 4 am- for the fifth time that night). I had dreaded the first 6 months of Oliver's life, expecting it to be as bad as Patrick's seemed, but not so. Oh blessed relief!

At the same time I really miss my big boy- miss being able to spend time with him unfettered. I also feel awful knowing that all this love I feel for Oliver I didn't feel for Patrick, but am comforted by the fact that that wasn't at all my choice- it was the PND that robbed me of it, and, oh boy, do I ever wish I had been able to choose to NOT have PND! I wish that I could have Patrick's time as a newborn over to compensate, but as that's not possible, I'll concentrate on having the best time I can with Oliver to honour its existence now.

I did get the baby blues pretty bad a few days ago. I forced them to let me stay in hospital another day- funking private hospitals! I also let fly with some choice expletives at our cranky old fart neighbor two doors down who decided to leaf blow our garden as I was trying to get the only sleep I had in 24 hours. And he really is a cranky old fart- he complains that he has to clean up the leaves from our tree every morning from his driveway, and he's 73, and he cleans up half a bucket of our leaves every day, because, like, it's autumn, and, like, leaves fall off trees, yeah? Actually, dude, you choose to leaf blow every morning- there's no law about it. To really illustrate this old fart's eccentricities, his front and rear lawns are so meticulously trimmed, he has my mother convinced it's astroturf. And our other neighbors (the nice ones next door) told me they saw him- get this- vacuuming his front lawn yesterday. That's right, ANZAC day. He's out there at the crack of dawn dustbustering his lawn. Crank.

Anyway, the small one is awake, and my boobies are full. Better go get milked. More fotos coming as soon as I get my act together.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Oliver. Big baby, little man

I'm home, and desperately trying to catch up on things in between napping when Ollie naps. I have kept a bit of a hospital journal which I will bore you all with when I can.

I'm mostly ok, haven't fallen into the pit of despair... yet, but feeling much more connected than when Patrick was born. But at least now when I wonder "Is it all worth it?" I look at Patrick jumping up and down with joy and think- hell YES.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Hello gorgeous- patrick's 4.37 kg brother born 6 hours ago. That's 9 pound 10.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Hmmmm, there's something going on

... that feels like regular crampy pain, that hasn't gone away for the last three hours.

I have just bought three things off etsy- do you think they would give me a refund if I said I was in labour?

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

10 in 10

In the last few weeks that I was working, I became obsessed with creating the perfect nutritional dinner that could be made in 10 minutes by a harried, rather pregnant professional woman who had a wailing toddler attatched to her leg screaming out "Dinner! Dinner!!". Of course that wouldn't be me, because I am an oasis of calm and preparedness in an otherwise chaotic world.

But anyway, I have been road testing various ideas, and here are the top 10. Just FYI. And, yes, they do make heavy use of veggie products, but if you're a purist, you're going to be slow roasting your tofu, so, well, bite me. Most of them are lifted from various magazines and shit I've seen at work and gone "Hey, that looks quick" so therefore a veggie versions of meaty dishes. Still, bite me. I'm biteable. Oh, and we always have in stock plenty of coles smart buy tomato and garlic pasta sauce. It's pretty crap as a pasta sauce, but works well as a tomato-ish base, and is very cheap.

1. Pasta primavera-ish. Boil water and put pasta on to cook. Steam (microwave) sectioned green beans, broccoli florets, frozen peas or any other green vegetable in the fridge. Drain pasta and combine with cooked vegies, a squeeze of garlic, oregano, parsely lime or lemon juice, black pepper and parmesan shavings. Soy fillets ('chicken style') chopped into cubes up the protein content for added nutriments.

2. Pasta "summer". Boil water and put pasta on to cook. Whilst cooking, chop up spme sundried tomatoes (or fresh tomatoes). Drain pasta and toss with sundrieds, sliced black olives, basil leaves (roughly torn), black pepper and shaved or grated mozzarella or provolone cheese. Again, some chopped vegie sausages will up the protein content.

3. 5 egg omlette and 'sausage salsa'. NB this looks like it takes a while, but I can get it done in 10 minutes. Seriously.
Whisk 5 eggs (6 is too thick, 4 aint enough) in a bowl and add chopped herbs (whatever your toddler brings you from the garden) and cook in a frypan with pre-heated olive oil (NB if you use the left-over oil from sundried tomatoes this makes it very yummy). Whilst this is cooking over a low/moderate heat, steam broccoli florets in the microwave, and chop up veggie sausages into cm-long lengths (about 4 sausages for 2 adults or 5 for 2 adults and a toddler) and make some thinnish cheese slices (about 3-4mm). When omlette has almost cooked through, place on strips of cheese and fold over. Cook for a further ~2 minutes to get the cheese runny :). Section off about a third and place in the fridge/freezer to cool down for the toddler. In the left over half of the pan, slosh in some cheap pasta sauce and heat through the sliced sausages. Serve with broccoli florets.

4. Felafels- you need to buy pre-made felafel balls, some flat bread, sour cream, hoummus and lettuce. Microwave the felafels for 2 minutes to warm them through and serve up. Adults can make up their own, serve toddlers felafel balls, flat bread spread with hoummus and bits of lettuce .
This reminds me of a famous piece of graffiti that was once on a wall in Darlinghurst "God hates homos" to which someone had addended "But does he like tabouli?"

5. Toasted cheese sandwiches and baked beans. Now, in all seriousness, baked beans on wholegrain toast is actually a very nutritionally sound meal. Even rake-thin dieticians agree with me! If you serve this up with toasties, the cheese just makes it more filling. "good" people will forego cheese as having too much fat content, but they can roll over and stfu.

6. Spinach, Fetta and Olive Pasta.
Put the pasta on to boil. Chop up a largish brown onion finely and saute in a pan with olive oil. Add some crushed garlic, a tin of chopped tomatoes, and about 500g of washed spinach leaves (NB Spinach is SPINACH- it is NOT SILVER BEET which tastes like CRAP!) and cook until the spinach is all wilty. Throw in some sliced black olives, basil leaves, black pepper, and cubed fetta and then stir in the drained pasta. We LOVE this one. Use nice fetta.

7. Veggie burgers- again, use pre-made veggie burgers, and get burger buns from the shop. Microwave the burgers for about 2 minutes. Slice the burger buns in half and throw in two slices of cheese and microwave for about a minute (for 4 buns), throw the warm burger on top, throw in some dead horse and some lettuce leaves. Yummo.

8.Sausage and Beans
Cook veggie sausages in a fry pan. Remove and add some crushed garlic to the pan along with some olive oil, a tin of drained bean mix, chopped tomatoes (or a tin of diced ones), a splash of balsamic vinegar and basil and cook for a bit.

9. Pasta pronto. this one cheats a bit: you need a tin of concentrated pumpkin soup and some filled pasta. Boil water and cook pasta. Whilst this is cooking, fry up some chopped up 'not bacon', garlic and sage leaves. Then chuck in the can of pumpkin soup, and some cracked pepper, and reduce. Stir through the drained pasta and some shaved parmesan.

10. Quick rice. This one also cheats with pre-cooked rice.
Fry up pre-cooked rice, chopped onions, "bacon", carrot and mushrooms, crushed garlic, beaten eggs and soy sauce.

The following is a bit cheaty, as it uses frozen vegies which i would ordinarily call an anathema, but, hey, meh, newborn looming, screaming toddler, cat that claims not to have been fed for several years etc etc:
*Vegetable pasta- microwave a good size portion of frozen, chopped veggies (I used a 500g bag for 3 adults and a toddler). Boil pasta. Pan fry the microwaved vegies with a jar of coles best buy pasta sauce, stir through the drained pasta and top with parmesan shavings.

The next few take a little longer than 10 mins, but are relatively easy still:
*Quick mex- Put a tin of drained and washed red kidney beans, some 'casserole mince', grated cheese, coriander, cumin and some pasta sauce in a big bowl and mix up. Place a good slop onto soft tortillas or mountain bread and fold up into parcels, fry in a pan with a little oil and serve with extra salsa.

* Spuds and sausage
microwave spuds for 10 minutes after cutting them down the middle and with some lateral cuts too (think like the laces on a football but right out to the sides of the spud). Whilst they are cooking, prepare some steamed veggies (broccoli, carrots etc). When the spuds are done, splay them out and dump sour cream/butter and chives in the centre. Cook up the veggies and microwave some veggie sausages.

* Sausage stodge. Heat oil in a fry pan, cook chopped sausage pieces for 1-2 mins until brown and set aside. Cook 'not bacon' and one chopped onion in the same pan for 5 minutes on medium heat until onion is soft. Add chopped garlic, a tin of diced tomatoes and chicken-style stock and bring to the boil, then reduce. Add 3 cups of frozen, mixed vegetables and simmer until cooked and stir in the sausages and add some chopped parsely (or whatever herbs your toddler brings you back from the garden)

Yeah, still bollox

My obstetrician told me "Ahh, maternal instinct: of the women who think they know when they're going to have their baby, 95% think it will be early"

Sounds more and more like wishful thinking.

Today is the magical 40 weeks, and still nothing.

I'll keep ya posted.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Why 'Maternal Instinct' is bollox

I had a sure feeling this baby was going to be early. So sure, I rang my mum and asked her to come up a whole 10 days earlier to look after Patrick whilst I was 'laying in'.

I'm now 39+4 and nothing is happening. Patrick was born at 39+4 (I went into labour at 39+3). I have been trying raspberry tea, jumping up and down, making appointments, organising things to do for the next few days, swimming lots... and nothing is working. (Having a husband on night shift and my own mum in the house makes the other 'bring on labour' strategy a bit difficult). I have made new bed sheets for Patrick, knitted him a hoodie, commenced work on two zip bags to store pram spare tyres in (our Phil and Teds had three flat tyres in two days- the tube was faulty, but there's nothing like trying to push a stroller on the rims when you've got a struggling toddler in there and you're very pregnant), lined up a menu for what to cook for the next week, and made truffles.

And still nothing.

Well, I have had three nights now where I have been woken up with strong pelvic cramps that were semi-regular, but they all went away in half an hour or so. I was particularly disappointed that 9/4/9 went by with no action (that's 4/9/9 for you in the US of A): both me and MrT have kind of palindromic birthdates- mine is like 27/2/72 (it's not, it's something like it, but) and MrT is something like 23/3/73 so I was kinda hoping 9/4/9 was to be it: that was actually one of the days I was woken up with the pain so I was all keen to go.

So, bollox to that. That and the fact that I had assumed that my mum was a far better mother than me, and since she's been here, I've noted we have remarkably similar parenting styles. Spookily, in fact. That's shouldn't surprise me- we are, after all, scarily similar. At Easter Mass this morning (mum dragged me along- gave me the catholic guilts) we both mispronounced the same word in a hymn to amuse ourselves (I can't remember exactly what it was, but like in 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' "...Late in time behold him come, Offspring of a virgin's wumb...") and we both giggled like schoolgirls. So much for me being inadequete!

Now: baby news and photos-
The baby is sitting very low: my tummy is poking straight out the front, and my belly button is almost popping- about as popped as a fat girl can hope for :)

So here's some belly shots- this is what I see when I try to look at the floor when sitting down. Note absence of feet!From the side
I feel like one of those old cats that have that "flap"-like belly that swings from side to side as they run: like feline tuckshop lady arms. I have absolutely no doubt that post-delivery this tummy will hang straight down, and I'll not only be able to hold a pencil under there but the whole crayola caddy.

Having the time of his life at the regional agricultural show, where he also wanted to hold a snake:
He looks awkward, but he was just holding absolutely still. As soon as the man took the snake off he said "More?"
Eating birthday cake. Umm nummm.
Bucket head. MrT also has a bucket on his head, but as per his request, I can't show his face on the interblags. They were running around the house together. It was v cute.

Now, I'm pretty sure I'm breaking several laws for this, but, man, is he too cute?
In the bath:

At the dog excercise beach

He did start of fully clothed, but the shoes came off first (fair enough, too) then his hoodie (it was warm), then he wandered into the water and his pants got wet- so off they came, fair enough as well, then he decided he didn't want his nappy on so he ripped it off, and finally, he fell into the water and his t-shirt got soaked. I got several tut-tuts from a few old ladies, but, seriously, he's two. And adorable.

Finally, a little video.

The background to this is that MrT has been working in Intensive Care again, and occasionally does 'retrieval' shifts. A medical retrieval is where a team (well, a doctor and nurse and a whole crapload of equipment) get dispatched from our ICU to a smaller, regional hospital to bring back a critically unwell patient who needs ICU or tertiary level care. For example, if you have a cardiac arrest in, let's say, Boggabri, you'll end up sedated and ventilated in a larger, metroploitan hospital's ICU because Boggabri simply hasn't got the equipment, staff or expertise. If it's close enough, they go by ambulance (up to about an hour away), but often go by helicopter, and rarely, by air ambulance.

Now, travelling in a helicopter to rescue really unwell people sounds glamorous, but it's really not. The chopper is hot, noisy and smelly, not to mention cramped, and if your patient starts vomiting, you can bet everyone else on board will, too. But Patrick LOVES helicopters, so I convinced MrT to get some footage on his phone the next time he went out. And here is Patrick after not being allowed to touch daddy's phone (what is it with men and their phones?):

don't you just love the pouty lip? He gets that off me, and I know why my mum used to tell me "you'll trip over that lip if you're not careful" and laugh.

The weirdest thing is, though, that he now loves that video and demands to see "sad baby, sad baby!" all the time. And laughs at himself

Finally, he loves to see himself on camera, especially when it is associated with me making an ass of myself, because he can see me on the screen on the other side of the camera.

Right-oh, gotta go swimming and hopefully the next you'll hear is that Avagadro is here!

Sunday, April 05, 2009

39 weeks. Not that I'm counting...

Eh. So totally OVER it.

10 Things I will NOT miss about pregnancy:
1. Having only two pairs of shoes that reliably fit, and one of those is clogs and the other pair smell baaad
2. Mental health toenails
3. *Burp*. Reflux.
4. Snoring
5. Breathlessness
6. Waddling
7. Having the steering wheel hit your tummy.
8. Inability to move gracefully, at all, in any circumstance.
9. Not being able to cuddle or hug
10. Not being able to turn over in sleep witout waking up

10 Things I WILL miss about pregnancy
1. Baby kicks and belly rolls
2. Feeling of fertility and oneness with creation. And mothers everywhere.
3. Not having to bother about whether something makes you look fat. Everything is stretch and that doesn't matter and people tell you that you look glorious anyway.
4. Maternity leave prior to the birth. (Last weeks of freedom)
5. Thick, lustrous hair.
6. Long, strong fingernails
7. An excuse for a nanna nap every day
8. Meh-ness. Didn't get something done? Meh. It can wait. I'm ready for a nap
9. No period :)
10. Round, strokeable tummy. Secret dialogue with baby inside.

At the obstetrician's this morning we had an estimated fetal weight scan. My obstetrician skillfully avoided the "So, what's the magic number?" question by saying "Well, often it's position that determines how easy the birth will be, and that baby's in a good position right now, so keep up the letting your belly hanging free to encourage it not to go posterior (blah blah blah) Anything else you want to ask?".

"Yes. what was the estimated weight."

"Well often second babies are bigger than the first, and it's only a rough guide anyway. But I'm sure this one will just fly out. Have I talked to you about group B Strep prophylaxis?"

On our way out the door, I sneaked a quick look at my chart. Now, my obstetrician is a gentle, lovely man, and a good clinician and surgeon. But he has appalling handwriting. (I can assure you that it is no longer just accepted that all doctors have poor handwriting). But I managed to see something scrawled after "EFW" that started with a 4, followed by three other, scrawled numerals.

Over. FOUR. Kilos.*

Putting that in perspective, when the very same obstetrician did Patrick's estimated fetal weight, the number he came up with was 3220g. And Patrick's birth weight was... 3220g.

HMOG. JMJ. ROTFS(obbing)

Better start those pelvic floor excercises again.

Patrick news
Patrick has invented a new system of maths. Apparently any items that are of a multiple, but not very many of that multiple is "two". For example, two, three or four dogs are equivalent to two dogs. A larger amount is "four". An enormity is sedden (often mistaken for 'seven'). This makes counting easier: to go from any amount from one to very large, all you have to do is count "One, Too, Four, Sedden!" . In the wake of the GFC, I expect this may mark a revolution in economics. How much does the bank owe us? Oh, I expect it's a very large number. Maybe even Sedden dollars.

His new system of classification of arthropods I also expect to catch on. Very small creatures are ants. Larger creatures are ladybirds. Creatures on walls that don't move are spiders. Creatures that skitter around the room are ockroaches. Small flying insects are mozzies. Larger ones are either dragonflies or buff-lies depending on their prettiness.

Still other new classifications apply to vehicles. Small vehicles are cars. Larger vehicles are trucks. Agrarian vehicles are track-taas, and any vehicle sporting a top light is a NEE-NAH! Thus, a taxi is a car, but also a NEE-NAH! There are also NEE-NAH! Track-taas, and NEE-NAH! Trucks.

He's not afraid to tell us that anything he wants is "patrick's" including my chair, dinner or laptop. But anything he doesn't want is definitely mummy's. My mum has come up to help us out over the perinatal period (and to hold the fort if I go into labour whilst MrT is at work) and he is loving having Granma around; a captive audience.

Right-oh. Have to pee again.

I promise to try and update from my hospital bed if anything happens, so you will hear about it, don't worry. I'm also more well-educated in that I know I can actually leave the building to go out for a walk and leave the neonate at the nurses' station this time (strange how that got glossed over in the orientation to the ward, eh?).

So far: lots of tightening, and the last three nights I have been awoken by crampy pelvic pain not unlike period pain (!) but that went away after half an hour or so...

*That's at least 8.8 pounds. Patrick was 7.1