Jaundice clinic

Since Louise the midewife is concerned about my colour, I had to go back to Barnet hospital today to go to jaundice clinic. Mum & Zaida took me in whilst Dad went to find a parking spot. It took him half an hour - silly Dad, I was almost done by then! The nice people at the clinic said I look very healthy and incidentally that I'm a Very Cute Baby (I like them) but they took some blood anyway for testing.

Oh, and they weighed me and I'm now 7lb 1oz! I think I'll celebrate with a gourmet meal. Of milk.

Rival

I've just found out that I'm not the only boy from the NCT class. I thought I'd have all the girlies to myself... Well, I'll just have to impress them with my muscular, tanned body:


and work on getting even bigger to show them how good a catch I am. Mum, milk please - NOW!

Second date

We stayed the night in Croydon, which was fun. Auntie Jenny and Uncle Tim came over this morning. Don't know how she does it but she got me to poo again just by holding me... Dad got some dim sum for lunch but I thought I'd stick with milk for the time being.

Rushed back to Potters Bar afterwards though, because Dana came to visit. She brought her parents and I also saw Uncle Jeff & Auntie Rochelle:



I've been doing plenty of growing since I last saw Dana but so has she and she's still bigger than me. It hasn't put me off her though and I think that she likes me (she got me a present, which was the Mamas and Papas "Hungry Monkey" toy - what's she trying to say?)...

All around the world...

Wow, we've travelled a long way today. Probably around the world! I heard Mum & Dad say something about "the M25" but I don't know what that means. We got into the car and drove for so long that I wanted a feed at the end of it. Although I generally like to feed every half hour if I can...

We went to Croydon, which means "skanky town" in Old English (so Dad says.) Apparently I was here a while ago but I don't remember it.

Mum took me to see her Chinese herbalist, and I've now got a Chinese name. It means something like, "aim for the sky" or "flying high towards your goals" which is nice. But Dad doesn't know how to write the characters in the blog yet. I'm very lucky, being born in the 7th month and also being a Golden Pig. And the herbalist said I'm cute, so I like her very much.

Males and instruction leaflets

Great-Uncle-Howard-Who's-Plastered and Great Auntie Karen surprised all of us today as we found that they had ordered a Fisher Price Kick & Play (TM) Bouncer With 10 Entertaining Songs, 6 Sound Effects and Dancing Lights to Reward and Entertain Baby [Requires one "D" battery; three "AA" batteries (not included)]. Oooh. A delivery man from John Lewis had left the box outside.

Zaida and Dad attempted to assemble it but they couldn't understand the instructions. As they didn't ask me, I wasn't impressed and fell asleep.

Exclusive - My Miserable Face

Hi there.


I know you think I spend most of my time looking cute (I do: see illustration above), but I'll tell you a secret: I HATE having my nappy changed. No one asked me, but I like sleeping in my dirty nappy as it feels all warm and mushy. So when Mum and Dad change my nappy, I scream and scream and scream and holler at the top of my voice because it is SO unfair. For a start, it's a gross violation of my human rights and the biggest injustice in the world, and I'm going to take my parents all the way to the European courts.

This is the Miserable Face that I use in between crying. I think you'll agree it's rather good.

Explosive

Auntie Jenny came over again to keep Mum company today. She was wondering whether she has some strange laxative effect on small children, because as soon as she held me as I pulled my Purple Face and produced a whopper of a nappy, with the poo splatted everywhere.

Here's a good pic of me chillin' out with Auntie Jenny, looking relieved that the stuff's out rather than in.

Hangin' with the bears

Y'know, just hangin'.

Mama - where's my suncream?

Last Thursday, Louise-the-Can't-Be-Too-Careful-Midwife still insisted that I was jaundiced and said she'd book me in to the jaundice screening clinic at Barnet Hospital. Bleurgh. I hate Barnet as I had such a miserable time there last time. Anyway, I like my colour. It saves having to put on the fake tan to impress the girls.

This morning, though, Julia-the-Nice-Health-Visitor said that a bit of sunshine would probably get the jaundice shifting, so Mum got me sunbathing for a bit. Here I am with my P Diddy look. Mmmmm, Mama, where you put my suntan lotion, huh?

Big bruiser. Phwoar.

My first health visitor came this morning, to weigh me and to give Mum loads of leaflets.

Last Thursday Louise-the-Can't-Be-Too-Careful-Midwife had predicted that I would weigh just over 6 lb by after the weekend. And Roz, the antenatal teacher, had said that by my due date I'd be 6 lbs 1 oz or maybe 6 lbs 2.

So I surprised everyone this morning by weighing in at 2.92 kg - that's 6 lbs 7 oz!

Everyone's glowing with pride, but I'm not telling them that the only reason I'm packing in the protein is that Mum and Dad have fixed up to meet with loads of new parents from their NCT class on 4th August (Dad's birthday). And... all the babies born so far have been girls! There's Dana, of course, but I haven't yet met Gracie, Isla, Chloe or Emily Ann yet. They'll all be gorgeous and fluffy and dressed in pink. I desperately don't want to be the weediest one there if I'm the only boy!

At the zoo

I just thought I'd mention, whilst I'm here, the animal names I have been called since Coming Out (of the womb, silly):

• Spatchcock - because with my jaundice and the way I folded up my legs, I have been looking like a corn-fed chicken
• Froggy - again, the legs, plus when I hiccup I go "wibbit!" in a high-pitched, squeaky sort of way
• Leech - not very nice, but tends to be used in conjunction with Guillotine Jaws, when I suck for dear life even if I've got wind and I'm twisting around trying to get comfortable
  
• Little Bear - Mum calls me this because I'm cute and always hungry
  

Finally met the lot...

I saw Uncle Mike today with his girlfriend Katie, so now I've met all of my (actual) aunties and uncles. Uncle Mike was really nice to me and even washed his hands before holding me! I was very impressed. He was quite scared of holding me but Mum & Dad bullied him into it and then he was really happy about it.

Uncle Mike and Katie got me a cool toy drum to play with. Mum says I can't have it until I'm 18 months old, which is probably sometime after my next nappy change so I'm well miffed about that. Might need to pull a Miserable Face.

Mum & Dad were playing on the drum to see what it did and it made lots of nice loud noises. I think I'll have fun on that when I get the chance.

Porking out

Midwife finally came round to weigh me today - 2.66 kg (5 lbs 13 3/4 oz)! My cheeks and bottom are filling out nicely.

Where's Dad gone?

Mum says that from now on I won't see much of Dad during the daytime because he's "gone back to work". I still don't understand what "daytime" is, but I'm beginning to gather that it's when I should get most of my sleep. As opposed to "nighttime" when I should be entertaining Mum & Dad with crying, possetting and long wide-awake periods.

I know what Dad does all day, so his work must look something like this:

My friend Dana

Today I met a new friend, Dana. My parents met her parents at NCT classes, they said. Dana should be about a month older than me but because I came out so early and she's a week late, I'm officially the bigger one. Except I'm not. I thought maybe she could be my first girlfriend but actually I'm a little scared of her...

Here we are causing mayhem for our parents. Good fun.

More fans!

Auntie Jenny came over to see me in Potters Bar today. She helped Mum to choose some new glasses. Dad pretended to help but I don't think Mum regards his fashion sense very highly. Auntie Jenny put my photo on her phone (the one in my profile) and showed it to the opticians. Everyone said I was really cute. Can't wait until I can go out with Mum and meet all these people so they can fuss over me in person.

Getting things going.

Dad has set up a blog so that everyone can keep track of what's going on in my life. Cool.

Currently Mum & Dad are putting together all of the photos from the last week and they'll have an album together shortly. Details will follow. For the while, the one on this page is a great one of me:

Little bundle

I am still the centre of attention. Rabbi Colin came round to say hello, as did Auntie Roz of chicken soup fame (Mum and Dad's antenatal teacher) and her husband Uncle Steve. Italian Auntie Karen (not to be confused with Great Auntie Karen, of course) also came round to look at me and to cut Mum's and Zaida's hair. Mum said that she started feeling a bit more human after the haircut.

Dad took the first in a series of photos to chart my progress. Here I am with my pals 'Usky and Leone.

Oy Vay!

I'm one week old today. Mum is quite amazed how the memory of the pain of the birth is so rapidly vanishing. She keeps whispering to me that it's because I'm so cute. Huh - I could have told her that.

I did spend most of yesterday and today sleeping. I think I needed to catch up on sleep after the dreadful Barnet Hospital ordeal.



However in the afternoon I got descended upon by The Relatives, and other visitors. Here's me with Great Auntie Natalie:



...with Great Auntie Karen and Great-Uncle-Howard-Who's-Plastered (he tore his Achilles tendon whilst playing tennis):



...and with Auntie Justine:



I slept through the lot, more or less. When you're as young and as cute as me, you can get away with it.

Return to Treasure Island

Mum, Dad & I felt great after a night spent together with no burning lights around and lots of hugging. We went to the hospital again in late morning but they didn't get around to seeing me until lunchtime.

Mum read the hospital notes whilst we were waiting, and the doctors have been rather inventive with their description of what happened - amongst other things they said that Mum refused to be with me when what actually happened was that she was dragged away in tears, by the elbow. They also claimed that we'd simply disappeared last night without telling anyone - even though Mum had had that argument with the ward sister, and then we'd actually waited for them to weigh me after we'd told them that we were off. She's going to write a nasty letter about it after it's all over.

Another new doctor saw me, who told Mum & Dad that although she understood why we'd left the hospital, the treatment was definitely the right thing to do and that I'd probably need more time under the lamps before I was safe. She tried to blind them with science until she found out that they're both scientists. But then when the tests came back she had to tell them that my bilirubin levels had dropped again overnight, and they basically never rise after that happens, so I'm in the clear! Hooray!

Mum & Dad are really happy, as are Boobie & Zaida. It's been an exciting couple of days but I think I'll try to keep things a bit quieter from now on...

The Great Escape

Phew, what a day!

I used up so much energy in the night that I fell asleep and didn't make a commotion for most of the day. But I did manage to do a huge, really smelly, sticky pile of poo all over the sheet and sides of the crib. It needed a big clean and complete change. The smell whiffed all around the ward. Mum & Dad kept whispering to me that I was a very good boy for doing that.

Mum was really cheered up when Boobie and Zaida arrived with a huge bouquet of flowers that Dad's group at work got for us. They didn't bring them into the ward but Mum said they were huge and very expensive looking, with lots of real herbs and stuff. They're going to try to find a vase big enough for them back in Potters Bar.



When the nurses checked my bilirubin levels at lunchtime, they'd dropped well below the "safe" threshold, so the nurses took one of the lamps off me for a few hours. They tested me again at about 6pm but the level had risen. It was still safe but only just. They wanted to put the second light on again and keep me in for at least another 12 hours. Mum & Dad were Not Happy about this. Me neither - I was starting to feel sunburnt and my skin felt quite red and dry. I think the nurses were going to try sticking a tube down my nose to put formula milk straight into my stomach for this. Yuck.

Mum & Dad wanted to talk to the senior doctor about me. They thought that I was suffering from too much stress and my delicate skin wasn't up to the UV treatment. I think they were also quite stressed. There was another emergency (when isn't there one?) and no-one came even after 3 hours. Mum & Dad had kept me away from the lamps all that time (which made me feel much better - thanks!) and we ended up deciding to do a runner.

Boobie & Zaida arrived as Mum told the nurses that we were leaving. The senior nurse told us that we couldn't. Mum works in the NHS though and knew all about my rights, so she told them that we could and we would. The nurses weighed me before I left - now 2.2kg so I've put some weight on despite being in hospital. Then Zaida drove us all home and we relaxed a lot.

Dad was a bit anxious for me though, and had to have a large whisky and a long walk with Zaida to make him feel a bit better. Mum was much happier for winning the row with the nurses and being able to cuddle me properly again.

We made Shabbat (although my head's a bit too small for a kippah) and Auntie Roz had brought round some proper Jewish chicken soup, which Mum & Dad really enjoyed. The doctor did phone us and Boobie was really great - she had a long talk to the doctor about why we'd left and how we all felt about my treatment. Boobie pointed out to the senior doctor that during the whole time we had been in hospital, no one had even thought to ask Mum how she was feeling or whether she was OK, not even offering a bath or anything despite her being still terribly sore from the stitches. That was a bit of a revelation to the doctor - the fact that Mum was just four days after giving birth hadn't occurred to any of the clinical staff. Anyway, Boobie promised that we'd come back in the morning for another bilirubin test on me. I feel like a pincushion. I don't know how much blood I have left in my heels, nor how much skin is left for pricking, given the number of times it's been taken. But I'll do it if Mum & Dad ask me to.

Get me out of here!

I screamed and screamed but they left me under the horrid UV lights. Mum couldn't bear to see me so unhappy so the nurses literally pulled her away from the ward in tears and put her in a parent room with Dad. She calmed down a bit when Boobie and Zaida came with food and other nice things, and she got to feed me. I loved that - they took me out from under the lights and I got to cuddle Mum whilst I fed. Then I got put back under.

Throughout the night I've tried to keep the other kids awake with my screaming, which at least has given me something to do. Every now and then I get to feed and hug Mum, which is what keeps me going.

They took another blood test and my levels are dropping but they're still too high.

Horrid day

Bleurgh. Midwife came round again this morning and said that I was looking jaundiced down to my thighs. She pricked my heel and took a blood sample, and explained to Mum and Dad that she was going to have to get the bilirubin level (the toxin that causes jaundice) checked out at Barnet Hospital.

Boobie said it was nothing to worry about as Dad had jaundice for fifteen weeks when he was a baby. But when Louise the midwife rang Mum from Barnet Hospital to say that the jaundice levels were very high and I would have to be admitted for an overnight stay to get treatment, Mum got very upset. She didn't want to go into hospital again so soon.

Eventually we dawdled in to Barnet Hospital. Louise-the-Can't-Be-Too-Careful-Midwife had told us to go to A&E as they were expecting us. However when we got there, no one knew about us, from the dear in the floral blouse on A&E reception to anyone in Pediatrics. A nice-but-terribly-daft young Jewish doctor called Adam tried to make small talk with Mum about whether she'd had a caesarean birth. She replied rather curtly, "It's all in the notes," as she was getting really annoyed that no one actually seemed to be expecting us after all, and the birth didn't seem like a good topic to make small talk about. Then Adam said that they often ask rather than read the notes as it was friendlier and it was nicer if she could just be co-operative; to which Mum promptly bit his head off by telling him not to patronise her. Oooh, he was a bit more careful after that!

He checked me over and took another blood sample. Although the level was lower I still had to stay for treatment. Adam explained it to Mum & Dad and said that it was really simple and I might be out by tomorrow night. We had to wait ages to go up to the ward though because there was some sort of emergency going on with another child.

They got us up there eventually though, and I'm in Treasure Island ward along with a girl who's had her appendix out and is looking really ill as well as a few other children I haven't met yet. The nurse is being very nice to me but she keeps talking to Mum & Dad in the same squeaky ditsy way that she speaks to the children. And she calls them "Mum" and "Dad", which they find a little weird. She put me a see-through plastic crib which I hate and put a big orange plastic case over my head, which apparently protects my eyes. Then the nurses put two large UV lamps over me to break down the bilirubin.

I hate the crib. I hate the case. I hate the lights. I am Officially Unhappy and screaming my head off in case it gets me out of here.

Four generations

This afternoon, Zaida, Boobie, Dad and Mum took me round to meet Alter-Boobie, my great grandmother, who's 92. She lives in Potters Bar as well so it was only a 5 minute drive in the car, but even then I fell asleep in the car seat.

Great-Boobie was very pleased to meet me. She tried to remember this traditional Yiddish custom of giving the new baby some money and then saying some sort of blessing, but she couldn't remember what the words were so she just gave me 50p instead. My first pocket money! - I grabbed it and didn't let go - and immediately stopped pulling my Slightly Miserable Face.



Here's four generations of the family then: the bloodline with Dad, Boobie, Great-Boobie and me!

In utero

Here are a couple of interesting pics. When Mum was pregnant with me, the GP and midwives had told her that I was head down, but she couldn't figure out how the rest of me was laid out inside her womb.



Voilà: Here's how! I always had my bottom on Mum's right (sort of underneath the liver: only place to stick your bottom really); and then I would kick out on Mum's left side.

Meet the (Mid)wife

This was my first day "at home". Boobie and Zaida are being brilliant at helping Mum and Dad out, but they do fuss over me. The place is starting to be inundated with congratulatory cards and flowers. Pity I can't see them yet as I'm still short-sighted and everything's out of focus.

Dad's been going camera happy.



The midwife Louise came and checked Mum, then weighed me. I weigh 2.18 kg, so I have pooed out approx 160g of meconium - wow. (They seem to expect that, as long as the weight loss is less than 10%. Cor - imagine 10% of yourself being poo.)

However the midwife said I looked jaundiced and wanted to join the worldwide conspiracy of people wishing to shove extra formula down my throat. I had actually puked up most of the hospital formula but they didn't understand that when I said, "waaaaaaaahhhh" and pulled my Miserable Face.

Out into the world

Mum decided she'd had enough of the hospital, although they wanted to keep her in as her blood iron levels were pretty low, and they'd been making noises about giving her a blood transfusion! We managed to discharge after Mum promised that she would take iron tablets instead.

We dropped by Mum and Dad's flat in Croydon. It was hailing and the thunder and lightning were going at full pelt. I met my parents' downstairs neighbours, Simon-Who-Smokes-Pot-and-Has-Just-Bought-Mega-Loud-Speakers, and John-Who-Looks-Like-Howard-from-the-Halifax's-Younger-Brother.

Mum showed me round the flat. In fact she hardly recognised it herself. You see, Dad had spent the day arranging for our new cleaner, Annette-Who-Looks-Like-Aggie-from-the-Telly, to give the place a total spring clean.

After the storm there was a marvellous double rainbow over the whole south Croydon valley. Aahhh.

Mum and Dad drove me up to Potters Bar to stay with Boobie and Zaida for the while.

Freak out

Auntie Jenny (Mum's older sister) spent most of the day with Mum. She's been freaking Mum out by saying I look like Uncle-Mike-Who-Doesn't-Wash - although less today than on Sunday when I was born. They reckon that squeezing through the birth canal flattened my features.



Mum thinks I've got her eyes and mouth, but Dad's wavy darkish hair, hairline, and jawline. I've also got Dad's long scrawny legs (Mum is always uneasy about Dad wearing shorts). My own personal feature is my wrinkly bottom (Nora Batty buttocks). I don't apparently get that from either parent.

Sucker

Today I have been sleeping and learning how to breastfeed. There's not much coming out from Mum at the moment, but I'm told that what there is, is good for me. Mind you, the breastfeeding counsellor who came round spent the whole time glugging formula down my throat, because I'm apparently low birth weight so I need the supplementation.

However I did measure 48 cm in length, which is practically on the newborn average of 51 cm. So I am long and skinny, like Dad.

Mum's been spending the time cleaning meconium from my crinkly bottom. Meconium is the world's stickiest dark green tar-like poo designed to terrify new parents, so I thought, Oooh, better make lots of it then.

Recovering

Mum recovered her blood pressure pretty quickly after the nice Italian doctor put the IV drip into her.

We were taken into the postnatal ward.

Zaida took the first family pictures:

Meeting the family...

My Boobie and Zaida (Yiddish for Grandma and Grandpa) arrived to meet me. Boobie had wanted to be there when I came out but I decided to come so quickly that Dad didn't have time to phone anyone.

They've taken the first pictures of me, ever. Here's one:



Mummy tried to get up as the hospital staff wanted to get us out of the labour ward and into the postnatal ward. Unfortunately she had lost a lot of blood and fainted. A doctor came round and put a drip into her so she managed to doze for a bit after that.

Auntie Jenny and Uncle Tim came over a bit later.

Silly Mum

The midwife said that Mum had very bad internal tearing and needed stitches so Mum is being sutured now.

The other midwife was filling in my details on the hospital paperwork. She asked Mum and Dad whether they had checked whether I was a boy or a girl, as she was about to fill out the "M/F" box. Mum had just assumed that I was a boy, as both sonographers on my ultrasound scans at 20 and 30 weeks had been completely confident. So Mum said very sleepily, "Of course he's a boy - he's got a boy's face, look!" To which the midwife replied, "No darlinn', ees nod da face you wanna look at!" So Mum and Dad unwrapped me from my towel and confirmed that, yes, my crown jewels were all present and correct.

Score!

Mum is high on pethidine too so she's pretty zonked. But Dad is yakking away to me. He cut my umbilical cord.



The midwives gave me Apgar scores of 9 and then 10 (out of 10) - score! I have been certified as normal, but probably never again.

Hello!

I have just emerged into the world, at 4:02am.

I am a bit high on pethidine as I forced my way through the birth canal when the doctors told Mum she could sleep through the contractions. That's because I am going to be a problem child.

I weigh 2.34kg, which is 5lb 3oz in old money.

Actually, my parents weren't expecting me this weekend. My due date was the 26th July, so I am 3 1/2 weeks early.