And now we're four

Just in case you were wondering

2011-10-03T10:33:00.001+01:00

Yes, I know, huge gap from June to the beginning of October. I will try to fill that in later, since we did go all teh way to England for a wedding blessing at the very least.

Walking

2011-10-02T18:27:00.004+01:00

Elliot took his first unprompted steps today. We had goaded him into making a few steps a week ago, but today Elliot just got up and walked! I was of course downstairs cleaning up vomit.

Fortunately, he has the bug and now tries to stand up and walk everywhere. He is so excited and knows it too!

For the record Elliot took his first steps age 1 year, 2 weeks and 2 days on the 2nd October.

Should be video posted in the usual place within the hour :)

Give me caffine or give me death!

2011-06-27T20:32:00.000+01:00

The effort required to do anything at the end of a normal day is just staggering. Working life plus two young children is a constant whirlwind of mental activity that leaves me feeling like a zombie. Despite having a sedentary job, despite not having to actually run after the kids, I am drained by the time the children are in bed.

Up at 7, get Matilda up, breakfast, clean up, get M ready for barnehage, get me ready for work, take M to barnehage, go to work, work, return home, give attention to kids, eat dinner, give kids a little more attention, Elliot bed time, Matilda bed time, and it's between 20:00-21:00.

A couple hours at the end of the day. Something for ourselves, a little for each other. But not enough. Just nowhere near enough.

Injecting caffine into my eyes no longer sounds all that extreme. How do other parents do it?

Dadaddadada

2011-03-23T11:28:00.000+01:00

Elliot is on the right track. Now if he can just say 'Da Da' and look at me and MEAN IT, then we have that first word.

Oh, did I mention first tooth? Week ago. Yeah, I'm too slow.

We do have more pictures too. Just... not online yet.

Soon!!!

Ga-Ging!

2011-03-10T02:09:00.000+01:00

If Ga and Ging were words, we'd have language! It's just so cute hearing Elliot explore all his sounds.

All he wants...

2011-02-02T10:28:00.000+01:00

... is to stand. He's barely mobile, still can't do rolling over all that well, can only just about grip things and all he ever wants to do is stand up and dance.

By dance I mean... well, it's like holding a piece of string taught by holding just one end.

Elliot also had his first taste of real food. He slobbered all over mummy's pear. He looked like he enjoyed it. He might have even got swallowed some, though the state of his top and the pear suggest he basically dissolved it like a fly eats food. Yum.

Matilda is now taking asthma medication. I had really hoped the attack over Christmas was a one off, but it appears not to be the case. I can only guess that the cause is environmental; lots of people burn things for winter fuel here. Sometimes the air is thick with crap and we live nice and high up. I'd hate to think how bad she might be if we lived lower down towards the centre of town. I'm leaping to the conclusion that it is air pollution, but she has been referred to a specialist which might help us know more. That's all the way off in April though.

Everybody is happy. Everything is well. Life goes on.

Terror

2011-01-23T15:35:00.001+01:00

Matilda fell down the stairs. Top to bottom. All I heard was bump... bump... bump... bump... bump. I rushed to the stairs the moment I heard the first noise and arrived in time to see her summersault the last few stairs and fall into a heap at the bottom. Time stopped. Then she started crying.

I was terrified for one brief moment that she wouldn't move, wouldn't get up.

The extent of her injuries - a few bruises and a cut gum. I cannot believe how lucky Matilda is, how lucky we all are.

My hands are still shaking and I have a knot in my chest or throat, I'm not even sure right now. I want whiskey. We have coffee.

Shrinking

2011-01-19T13:41:00.000+01:00

Goodbye Uncle Rick. More family Matilda and Elliot will never meet :(

Giggle

2011-01-18T13:41:00.000+01:00

And there we have Elliot's first proper giggle. Wonderful sound.

Flip!

2011-01-17T13:00:00.000+01:00

Four months and one day and Elliot turns over from back to front all on his own. Absolutely on purpose.

Elliot is growing just fine. Actually I'm glad he's slowed down a bit otherwise he'd have outgrown everything again already. Apart from shifting sleeping patterns, which we had with Matilda and is probably common to every child, nothing wears on us. He's bright and cheerful most of the time and so very easy to make smile and almost giggle.

Elliot's favourite thing right now is to be pulled into a standing position. It's so much fun for him that it makes him squeal with delight. Sitting up and standing is basically all he wants to do unless one of us sings to him. I'd like to think my singing voice is coming along, but Matilda and Elliot are the only ones that appreciate it.

Matilda is just about to turn 4 years old. We have a party this weekend at her barnehage. I think it's likely the last year of ego free events for children. Even as young as five, kids seem to have their cliques and groups and weird rules of engagement. I hope we can avoid that for a few more years yet. I doubt we will.

She's looking forwards to the party as much as she did Christmas. Already mornings are getting earlier and earlier with excitement.

Snowgoons

2010-12-24T12:57:00.002+01:00

Snowgoons, originally uploaded by An Englishman abroad.

Merry Christmas and God Jul from all of us :)
(models made by Matilda and Daddy)

Its that time again

2010-12-12T18:29:00.000+01:00

A long overdue update...

Elliot has just had his first set of shots. This time Leni got to hold him. The accusing looks were all hers. I really don't envy her. I remember Matilda's looks when I had to hold her when she had her shots; how wretched and horrid I felt, holding my child while a stranger stabbed them.

One leg was a bit bruised, but otherwise he was just a bit teary at the time and whiney for the next day or so. Always a worry though.

Otherwise Elliot is growing just fine. He has doubled his birth weight and is almost 63 cm tall. He feels longer when you hold him. Both of us thought he had grown more since he appears to be outgrowing everything in that rage too.

He's been smiling a while now. I made a note of his first smile... seemed important at the time, less so now. And who knows if that first smile was just a grimace gone awry. Now his smiles light up his whole face.

Lots of cute noises too. He's very responsive to our presence and the sounds we make, even the faces we make. He's close on a few new things but we can save those for the next update.

Matilda is having fun with Christmas (Jul), especially the advent calendar. We have something up on our bedroom door which allows for a small gift for each day of advent (well, the December ones, up to Christmas). While the idea is nice, the excitement means that she's up early every day instead of just Christmas. It's worth it to see the joy on her face.

We both realise the need for a new outlet for Matilda's energy. Though not exactly cooped up at home, she favours being inside. This means that we get to entertain her for the most part when she's at home. Having to contend with all of her energy means we end up exhausted. The Drumming and Dancing classes are over now, though that really only got her out more than exhausted her. And while doing one thing a week is nice, that still leaves us a lot of her energy to use up. Maybe we can get her interested in some sporting activities a few times a week. I hope so.

Matilda does appear to be very interested in music. Christmas ought to begin to see if it's just a love of bashing things to make noise or something that can be encouraged and nurtured into something more.

She's also getting better and better with Elliot. Not that she was ever bad beyond that first little bit of jealousy, but she's trying to help and play with him lots more. Elliot obliges when he can. I think they get on rather well.

And yes, there will be more pictures. Life is VERY hectic right now. You'll just have to be patient.

Colic?

2010-10-20T17:17:00.000+01:00

I've heard of colic. Basically where a baby cries for hours a day, non stop, with little apparent cause and practially no way of stopping it. It generally lasts up until the child is 3 or 4 months and then just goes. Most experts blame an immature digestive system. I never appreciated what a parent goes through when their baby becomes colicky.

It started in the afternoon. Elliot felt flimsy in my arms and I thought he had a slight fever. Thermometer comfirmed it. What bothered me was how limp he was. Then something made him upset or was hurting him inside and the crying started. It would stop for a few minutes once in a while, but for the most part he was exhausted, his eyes were closed, his body limp and the crying fierce and constant.

A diagnosis helps. It doesn't always mean you can do anything, but its nice to try to either rule things out or pinpoint something. If nothing else it aids peace of mind at a time when you really need some. He had a fever. He had a stuffy nose since the previous day. I thought he had the beginnings of a cold. Everybody else tells me that he will have his mother's immunty. But what if she hasn't had that cold yet, or hasn't had it long enough to transfer her antibodies to him?

38.5C. We'd read before that anything over 40C you should see a Dr. We then discovered that Dr's don't like newborns (less than 6 weeks) getting a fever at all. By then it had begun to diminish. There are several things they like to check for in the case of a fever, but it would not go away if it were any of those. We felt safe again.

We were lucky. It was not the start of colic. Two six hour periods of uncontrollable crying and then it retreated with the fever. Barely any sleep, we were like zombies the following day. Happy Zombies now that Elliot was recovering.

My heart goes out to parents with a colicky child. We only suffered a day and night of crying, I dread to think how to cope with months of it.

14 Days Old

2010-09-30T17:26:00.000+01:00

Everything is normal. Everything is right. There is nothing wrong. It could be the most boring report ever but perhaps the most welcome of all. Elliot is simply fine; growing just fine, eating just fine, pooping, peeing, gulping up and sleeping just fine. There's not a lot more for him to do at this stage other than look cute when he's asleep, warble heart warmingly when he's awake, and entertain us with his extraordinary ability to pee and poop the moment his nappy is off.

Matilda is brilliant with Elliot. She loves being a big sister and having a little brother. In the first few days she was ablaze with excitement telling everybody at kindergarten about him. There has been a little jealousy and some attitude to go along with it, but nothing more than we expected. Lots of attention (and a few presents) from everybody around her helped her realise that despite the new addition to the family, she is still very much our Matilda.

Kindergarten goes well. A tiny hiccup with saying goodbye in the mornings due to some anxiety creeping in with Elliot's arrival. I think that has largely passed. She has a lot of fun there and is playing more and more with the other children rather than being with the adults. When I go to pick her up it's a joy to see her face light up and have her run to me and jump into my arms. At the same time, I was delighted to see her want to finish making chocolate cake (using sand in forms in the sandbox outside) rather than come straight home yesterday.

And now we are four

2010-09-16T21:06:00.006+01:00

September 16, 5am Leni wakes up with what she thinks are the beginnings of stronger contractions. She's not wrong.
10:40 Water breaks. Decide to phone the hospital for last minute advice.
10:55 False alarm. Was simply the slime plug. (If you know, you know, otherwise hmm)
12:10 We arrive at the hospital.
13:50 Just more contractions so far. We have a room just for us and just now they brought a huge bouncy ball for Leni to sit on. Bouncing around is supposed to help the baby settle lower if he's not completely fixed. Leni asks for acupuncture.
13:55 Acupuncturist arrives. Watching her put needles into Leni feels weird. I have never liked needles. The appear to hurt enough that I wonder what benefit they really give.
(Edit: Leni swears they worked and helped her relax)
13:57 Water breaks! At least we think so. Second time lucky. On a personal note, I feel pretty pointless right now. I'm a hand to hold. Still, who wants more involvement at a time like this?
14:05 Leni is trying to relax, alternating between the bed and the fun objects in the room.
15:00 Bath time. Contractions are clearly progressing.
16:14 Midwife checks Leni and causes her water to break. She explains the previous false alarm was probably just blood, muck and gore. Or something.
17:00 Back in the bath. Contractions are growing. Basically we are in labour.
18:24 We have a boy.

21:00 50cm long, 34cm around head, 3.190Kg.

I ought to mention that a male medical student was brought in towards the end to observe. The poor guy was the most nervous person there. There were a few comments on how calm I was, and how I wasn't asking loads of questions or talking over them. Basically, they need to hear each other and Leni, not me. If anything goes wrong, they are there. It's a situation in which I want to feel useless. Knowing that I am surrounded by qualified experts is what keeps me calm and collected.

A couple of hours after the birth a family room became available and we all stayed the night. Spawn II woke us a couple of times, mostly to gulp up more foster water. He'd slip back to sleep without a problem.

Matilda, Berit and Tom are coming soon. I am so curious to see Matilda's reaction. Otherwise, now that the birth is done, it's just the rest of his life to look forwards to. How strange, and normal, is that?

Waiting

2010-09-11T12:42:00.000+01:00

I think we are about as prepared as we can be. I mean that both physically and mentally. My own mind switched from 'still a week to go' to 'any day now really' yesterday. In another way, I think I am also done with waiting. I want to see what we have.

The house is clean and tidy. Matilda's furniture is all up to date and being used, giving us maximum space elsewhere for Spawn II. All of the clothing we can think of for Spawn II is in the drawers by our bed. The car seat is out of storage. Oh, the pram still needs to be converted back for use by a baby.

Matilda is all excited about being a big sister too. 'Lille bror' has been on her mind a lot. She has been getting used to the idea of there being another child in the family thanks to books and long chats and explanations. So many of the things that are going to be handed down to Spawn II and Matilda considered hers have been duly handed over. 'This is mine' on everything to 'This is mine...this is for the baby.' I don't think we could have asked for a better reaction. Of course that could all change, but right now everything feels right.

Barnehage/Kindergarten goes well. I can see her confidence growing in lots of areas. She scares me at times showing me the things she has learned, especially when she leaps down several stairs at once or does something equally as likely to cause pain if it goes wrong. I don't show the concern, just my admiration and support. She doesn't fall. She doesn't hurt herself. She has to do these things. That cotton wool has to stay off.

2010-07-08T19:22:00.002+01:00

One more day of barnehage left until their summer break. I wonder what Matilda will make not going there for a few weeks? She really enjoys it, although she equally enjoys mummy or daddy picking her up and taking her home.

Three weeks until it all starts again. I wonder what those three weeks will bring?

Everything's fine. Just fine.

2010-07-02T20:12:00.003+01:00

Everything is going well. Everything. Matilda seems extra cute and charming. Spawn II is developing just fine. Maybe I should find something to actually talk about, but right now everything is just fine.

Well, there are all the preparations. Sometimes we look around and realise that we have so much still to do to prepare for Spawn II. Just rearranging the lounge has given us a huge amount of extra floor space. That's one good thing taken care of. At some point we need to improve Matilda's storage options so that her toys aren't all over the place. Then there's actually putting up some long awaited artwork on the walls.

But, you know. Everything is just fine.

Take Two

2010-06-19T18:18:00.000+01:00

Barnehagen/Kindergarten/playschool is going well the second time around. There were the expected twinges of 'Where's mummy!' but those passed very quickly. Matilda is playing and having a great time. It sounds as though this is already benefiting her in every way we hoped. She already appears to be more confident (and bossy) around us. It ought to be interesting to see how she develops away from the smothering embrace of mummy and daddy. All in all a huge sigh of relief all round.

Misguided to Reguided

2010-03-20T10:36:00.001+01:00

For a while I became paranoid that the things I wrote here would come back to haunt Matilda, that something here might be used against her later in life; at school, by friends, enemies, or even worse, complete strangers. I had to question my motives in putting up personal information about all of us, especially about Matilda who at her age has no say in the majority of things we do.

And then I realised I had simply lost my way with this blog. It was never supposed to be an expose about Matilda or a blow by blow account of her physical and mental development. It is supposed to be a glimpse into our family. Certainly anything I feel the need to be private will become so, but for posterity, why should I deny Matilda and the next to come a glimpse into their childhood?

So return it does.

And yes, the next one to come. Due September.

Another long awaited update

2009-11-02T15:47:00.002+01:00

What behavioural difficulties we may have feared with the 'Terrible Two's' never really seemed to materialise. Now barely three months from her third birthday, we are still stuck with a very well adjusted, happy and gregarious little girl. She may watch a little too much TV, and surprise us at times with things that she has clearly learned from it (a finger in the air for quiet then, 'aha, I have an idea'- where did that come from?), she may dislike getting her hair washed during baths, and she may decide that clothes are simply not to be worn, but this is all absolutely normal for a child of her age.

Matilda's language and forms of self expression are surging ahead. A good level of both English and Norwegian spoken language, counting in both (we are up to 12 in English and 20 in Norwegian), complex sentence construction and the ability to use them in conversations not only with us but her toys as well. That was a surprise, the interaction with her toys. It also shows us that her sense of self is also coming on earlier than is usual. Regardless, it's also very cute watching Matilda read stories to and play with her dolls and stuffed toys (as well as phones), as well as taking their roles when participation is required.

She loves to draw and paint, sing, dance (beyond just running around in a circle with Daddy or Mummy), and probably most endearing of all right now she likes to play make-believe, mostly by taking the roles of various animals (horse, dog, cat, pig, cow and tiger). And, alas for our knees, sometimes she will insist on us being an animal too.

Matilda does test us a great deal with her boundaries, and certainly knows some things are right/good, while others are bad/wrong. She will say sorry if she thinks she has done something wrong. Conversely, if she feels something is unfair she used to cry, but now she tries not to, taking deep breaths to try to keep herself under control and generally yelling at whoever is closest to go away. While we both like the idea of her setting up her own boundaries and try to respect her wishes if the reason for her being upset is nothing too serious, much of the time it requires some reasoning with her to explain why what she was doing was wrong or not a particularly good idea (throwing rocks out of windows for example) or, failing that, some plain old stubborn 'No' if she's being too unreasonable. And then feel wretched and awful while we wait for her to finish sobbing and like us again.

And while we haven't managed to leave nappies behind yet, we are making good progress with potty training. The dummy though... the way she clings onto that I wonder if she will still have it when she is 18. A lot more work is required there.

Her sense of what goes on around her is going to give us her first real Christmas this year I think. While last year she was happy to get the toy pram and her other presents, she was not really aware of the occasion. Now she knows what birthdays are and gets very excited when 'new' things happen, so with two months for the concept of Christmas to sink in (as a fun family occasion, not the religious aspect) Christmas, this year in England, ought to prove to be very interesting. There's nothing quite like being around a child that can see and feel the magic of Christmas.

Pokes M and mutters, 'what next?'

2009-08-05T12:11:00.004+01:00

Lately, the big move forwards is her self-expression, especially all the faces and expressions she makes in reply to everything gong on around her. The Terrible Two's have calmed considerably, probably in relation to the improvements in language and communication. The only slight blight on our horizon is her continued and apparent increased dependance. That I hope we can address after Leni's weekend away.

Maybe I should add more pictures, since it's just a link away via Flickr. Another thing on my todo list. I take enough pictures and it might encourage/remind me to write more here. Matilda does enough to warrant it, I'm just... lazy isn't the right word. Where is my head? Answers on a mysterious postcard please.

Another first

2009-02-08T15:03:00.000+01:00

Matilda survived her first night without mummy being present (hen party). It took letting her stay up until almost 10pm and not finally falling asleep until nearly midnight, and then waking up at 5:30 with a whimper of ‘mummy boobs?’ There was no going back to sleep without mummy in the bed too so up we were. A long day, but it’s nice to see that Leni can stay out all night if she needs to.

Kindergarten II

2009-02-04T23:47:00.002+01:00

I am glad I used the words ‘should’ and ‘ought’ a lot when previously talking and writing about Kindergarden. The first couple of days we, one of us at least, were to remain there with her so that she could grow accustomed to a new place away from home with the security of mummy or daddy. After that the kindergarten staff advised us to remove ourselves for a half hour to begin with and then longer, and then just leave her there of the morning and go. All children cry the first few times when they are separated from their parents, the staff told us. I expected tears.

Leni took her on the first day, and I on the second. I discovered to my shock that Matilda barely stopped crying the whole time I was away that first time. It was to be expected I was told. What I wasn’t expecting was the ferocity of her crying and shrieking. Nor the vomiting.

It can be argued that Matilda did not have the ideal start, having a cough from somewhere and potentially teething at the same time. That was in our minds enough to assume that things might be more difficult since being ill tends to make a person more fragile than normal. After the first day, I was restored to Matilda’s side and everything went well. The next day I remained away longer. I returned to find that Matilda was still crying and trembling, and had puked again. During the time I was away Matilda refused to do anything with any of the others, especially the staff. If the staff tried to do anything with her she would start crying hysterically.

At home Matilda’s behaviour suddenly changed. She has always been a happy child, and suddenly there was crying, puking and everything was a struggle. The ‘terrible twos’ were also upon us and we did not really know how much of her change in behaviour could be attributed to simply growing up and finding herself, but clearly something is wrong when you child begins to become afraid of getting dressed, going outside, and will no longer even let you out of her sight without crying and screaming.

The real last straw was the day I took her and the staff urged me to just leave her with them and go, so that the goodbye was not drawn out. I had to peel my child, screaming and sobbing off of my leg and then from my arm where she tried to hold onto me so tightly. Believing that the staff were correct in their assumption that a short goodbye would be better, I turned and walked away with Matilda’s choking sobs in my ears.

I was assured that they would ring me to tell me how things were going after the first half an hour, and then we would see what to do next. They told us that she had eventually stopped crying and formed an attachment with one of the female staff. Later when they went back inside, Matilda refused to get changed, refused everything and cried, sobbed and screamed until I returned after an hour.

Back at home, her behaviour was terrible. From other parents and forums, we heard that it would take time. One looked at Matilda and it was clear that this wasn’t just a case of ‘missing’ us. If we kept this up I wondered if it might not even end up changing her in ways that we would regret. It suddenly seemed stupid and trivial, our sending her to Kindergarten when I was still working from hom and available to take care of her and take her into town to see other kids and go to one of the open kindergartens there.

The words here really do not convey our anxiety over this whole mess. We wanted what was best for our daughter and had hoped, perhaps assumed too easily, that she would take to kindergarten. What we were getting was a nightmare.

The weekend came and there was a joint birthday party held at the kindergarten premises. Walking to the gate with Matilda, she did not want to enter. At the very door, she began to cry. Once inside she broke down in hysterical tears and had to be carried around. It took half an hour and the arrival of Lisa, one of our friends’ children to coax her out of my arms and back down to the ground.

The next week I wanted to start again, to see that Matilda was at least comfortable with going to Kindergarten with me (or Leni) there. I just needed to see that she actually liked it. Matilda hated going there now, even with me going along. It was a struggle for me to get her to change clothes, eat, anything. She did try to mix with the other children, but at that age children seem to play next to each other rather than with her. Matilda on the other hand actually enjoys interaction with other people, including children. Matilda was certainly able to have fun, especially when some of the other kids wanted to join her in playing. It might have been more fun to pay with the bigger kids, but they were simply a little too large and too boisterous for her. But beyond that I realised that there was little there for her that we couldn’t find anywhere else. As good as the staff are, they are still spread out between a lot of children. The children themselves seem a little lost there. Each one in their own world until a member of staff plays mother or father to them. It wasn’t the place I thought Matilda needed to spend her days in.

While we persevered for another couple of days, the weekend was when our decision was made. We want a happy child. There is simply no need for us to put her in a place where she is so desperately unhappy. We clouded the issue by assuming it was for us to, and it could have been, but for now at least, we are in a position where we can still put Matilda first and have her around us.

It has been a week since Matilda’s last visit to Kindergarten. We have a much, much happier child again. And so are we.

Two years old

2009-01-23T21:51:00.000+01:00

Two years old already. As I look through some of the older pictures of my daughter, I am reminded that she is no longer a baby. There really is nothing left of the baby she was except for the final fading patch of red from her birth mark. I look at her and I see a small person. And as always, each and every day, every time I look at her, I am amazed.

Iggle Piggle came to join Upsy Daisy, this time complete with sound effects and his own song (when his belly is squeezed). To those of you not in the habit of paying attention to children’s television and current trends, they are characters from In The Night Garden, a delightful distraction for young children (and far superior to Teletubbies) voiced, in the English version at least, by Derek Jacobi. Other presents were gratefully received, including a pair of cuddly cats (stuffed), clothes (lots), and other things that I can not recall at the time of writing. Matilda enjoyed herself. We all did.

Kindergarten

2009-01-20T22:07:00.000+01:00

Ever since Matilda was born the subject of when she should start Kindergarten was something we thought about and discussed often. In Norway, because mothers tend to return to work after their maternity leave is over, Kindergarten’s accept children from a very young age. We were always in agreement that Matilda should be able to communicate to some degree, so that whoever might have to look after her, and so that she can tell us too, Matilda would be able to communicate her needs. At two years old she can do that remarkably well, when she wants to.

Waiting lists are huge so we put her name down for kindergarten, not expecting to hear anything back for months and months. I believe we both had in mind a starting age of somewhere between 2 and a half to three years old. Imagine our surprise when we received a phone call out of the blue offering us a place at one of the local kindergartens, starting just before her second Birthday.

Suddenly all my protective feelings wanted to keep her with us. What could she learn from other people that she couldn’t learn from us? The ridiculous mood passed almost as quickly as it came and we both talked about it and agreed that it would, hopefully, be a good thing for Matilda. From our friends we mostly heard only good things, revolving around how their children liked it so much it was hard to drag them away. Matilda had enjoyed her visits to open Kindergarten, so perhaps this was the right thing to do and at the right time. Meeting other children, getting to play and have fun away from mummy and daddy. It ought to be great for all of us.

The flip side is knowing the joy of every disease that the kids get for the next few years. I wonder how adults immune systems cope with it?

Christmas

2008-12-28T21:49:00.000+01:00

Christmas felt like it snuck up on us and no sooner had it arrived, it left. I wish the impact on my waistline would pass so quickly. I wonder what Matilda makes of it all at the moment. The lights and decorations, the fussing over by the adults and the hectic rush around to get everything done in time.

To merely say she opened her presents misses the delight evident from both Matilda and the spectators as she ripped open gift after gift. Well, once we were past the first gift that is. The first was the largest box and contained the baby pram (vogn). In bits. There’s nothing more likely to dent the enthusiasm of a child than a toy that requires assembly. Matilda actually demonstrated remarkable understanding and patience as Tom put the pram together, albeit under the firm gaze and instruction of Matilda and Dukke. Once assembled everything else was forgotten. It was completely wonderful watching Matilda tear around the Christmas tree and chase the dog with her new pram.

Eventually the rest of the gifts were devoured. Matilda spent the next two days looking under the tree in case more presents appeared. Each time she would check she came away a little disappointed. Christmas was over.

Chicken Pox

2008-11-24T16:07:00.001+01:00

It looks like Matilda has come down with Chicken Pox. As we ring around and talk to other parents to find out if it is going around to help confirm our own diagnosis, a strange thing happens; mothers consider inviting us over so that their children catch it too. I thought this was something humorous from the minds of the South Park creators, but no. Parents really do want their children to get it early and over and done with. Having had it later in life, I can quite understand wanting it out of the way.

Poor Matilda, only a little under the weather right now, but a sight for sure as red patches and spots pop up by the hour all over her.

Let the scratching begin.

America

2008-11-20T15:02:00.000+01:00

America went very well. Matilda had no problems at all with the travel, was not ill the entire time and was as cheery and happy as we have ever seen her. Most amazing of all was watching her grow and develop during the month we were away. Her language skills have shot forwards and she seems to be learning and refining several words a day words, often learning a word after being told it a single time. As well as her increased grasp of language, her mannerisms, facial expressions and body language all combine to make her both understandable and communicative in a way that was simply not there five weeks ago.

To watch her blossom is a privilege. As fast as she is learning though, I wonder if we shouldn’t be doing more?

The art of noise

2008-09-11T17:20:00.001+01:00

Communication is the real issue here. Matilda is at that stage where she wants, even demands, to be understood. Her vocabulary is expanding every day and the words she understands sometimes surprise us. When speaking to us though, it is still an uphill struggle with many ‘words’ whose pronunciation is more than a little confusing. Our confusion leads to her irritation, which in turn, at its worst, leads to frustration and ultimately a wonderful tantrum (if we haven’t guessed or headed things off with a distraction).

Understanding her body language is a step in the right direction, although it would help a whole lot if Matilda would remember to point at things more too. Strange considering she used to point at everything she wanted before speech came to her. It was almost easier then. Now, in the way that people do, she wants to be understood, to be correct in the things that she does and without an ounce of compromise. Don’t point, she might be thinking, because they must understand me! Once desire and demand become frustration it is a slippery slope from there as we try to guess what she wants in the face of the howling, lashing winds of hurricane Matilda.

Sometimes it is easy. She pumps her hands in the air and nods vigorously. It must be AC/DC. Of course it is. What a great kid.

Arghhh

2008-08-25T21:36:00.001+01:00

The illness has gone, meaning sleep patterns are back to normal, but the new level of tantrums seems to be here to stay. Wonderful.

Where's my baby gone?

2008-08-16T18:17:00.000+01:00

Matilda is only eighteen months old but stands there defiantly, yelling and acting the same as any toddler might do. Sometimes she will take a stand, other times she will run away or lay face down on the floor. Increasingly she will arch backwards and go as stiff as a board to show her displeasure. Sometimes she is the sweet, cute, adorable child who wants to cuddle and play show off her new words and skills and make mummy and daddy feel wonderful and proud. But Matilda is no longer a baby.

To say I do not miss the baby she once was is to misunderstand my nostalgia. I do miss Matilda the baby. Sometimes because of the opportunities she allowed us when she was less mobile and boisterous (that foolishly we did not capitalise upon), but mostly because she was the new light in our lives; bright, pure and the kind of wonder that only new parents can see. That newness is part of our past now. It is present in pictures, a calendar, some cards and our memories. What replaced Matilda the baby is the wonder of development and the joy of watching a person grow.

The power of speech crawls forward word by word. The other day she pointed at a picture of a lamb and said 'lam'. It was another brand new word for me to hear from her. There are quite a few now. Sometimes she will cycle through the words she knows, either directly from memory or with the aid of one of her words and pictures books. Her vocabulary is growing at a startling rate. Most of her words are Norwegian, though her English is actually not too far behind. And then there are those other words that still mean the same as when she was a baby and could only pronounce the sounds they made. This mostly means 'ahhh' (sometimes including lip smacking) for thirsty/drink, and the poor dog (or hund in Norwegian) may forever be called Wuvwuv. She is however more distinguishing between other animals now. Birds are not yet so lucky, with the exception of the duck which is now duck or gakkgakk. All other birds are beepbeep.

It is hard to know what Matilda understands until she responds to it. Her ability to understand the same meaning for more than one word is evident from her knowing what both 'thirsty' and 'torst' mean. Add to that words she can both understand and say and the list grows and grows; ash (yuk), uff (hot), hiya( phone), ball/bal, up, down, out/ut, mat (food), is (ice-cream), biscuit/kjecks (nummynum), cup/kopp, eple (apple), jus (juice), nose, mouth, eyes, ears, foot, hand and so on. Suddenly you realise that she understands rather a lot.

While Matilda can turn the charm on at any time in her waking moments, another element of extreme cuteness comes from when she is asleep and, one assumes, is dreaming. She says things, often with an air of utmost urgency. While the first time was 'mummy, mummy' mummy', on later occasions we were treated to 'beepbeep, beepbeep, beepbeep', 'is, is, is', and so on. I think it is always nice things. I hope so.

The outdoors, once a source of terrifying paralysis, is now the playground of wonder and illusion. The mere opening of a door or the sight of some shoes sends her into a fit of 'Go ut… go ut…' Worse still, once out there's almost no dragging her back inside without a tantrum or at least tears, barring, of course, a fistful of distracting biscuits.

Thinking of food, meal times are generally much easier as she prefers to feed herself now. She is still liable to spill a great deal, though that depends as much on the consistency of her food as Matilda’s manual dexterity. It is difficult to say if she is really a fussy eater as there are still so many things we can try, but the transition from jars of baby food to solids was easy enough, and now it is a matter of expanding the range of foods she eats.

Mimicking us is the latest thing. While I am sure Matilda has always had an eye on what we do, lately she takes to doing things at the same time as we do them in exactly the same way. Funniest of all was her trying to copy Leni in she shower as she washed her hair. It runs a close second to watching Matilda try to copy several gymnasts that she was riveted watching while we had the Olympics on the television.

It feels odd now, rereading this before I post it. As I began writing I couldn’t think of anything that was suitably ‘milestone’ like to write about but when I read all the above I am reminded of how fast she is growing and developing on a day by day basis. The baby may be gone but the little girl is surely here.

Every Step You Take

2008-05-16T19:52:00.001+01:00

We knew that M could get onto her own two feet and take a few steps and that full scale walking was a matter of confidence. Perhaps, like her father, it was also a matter of desire. Why walk on your own when mummy and daddy will help? The yesterday, after being out at LM’s, she just got up, held her balance and walked across to her toys.

Since that moment she’s been on her feet almost non stop. The speed with which she has gone from tottering steps to confident walking around, turning around and picking things up off the floor, at first squatting but then bending over from the waist, is dizzying. It feels like M was just waiting until everything was ready, as near perfect as possible before dazzling us with her new ability.

Her walking does give us some rest at long last. No more need for us to lead her around by the hands when she now has better balance (and will only get better) walking on her own. So until she finds the next new thing to scare the hell out of us and demand all our attention on a second by second basis, we have a quantum of freedom to sit, read a paper and drink some coffee. It almost feels like life again.

To V or not to V

2008-05-12T22:11:00.002+01:00

We were warned when we took M for her MMR vaccine that she may develop a rash and mild fever around a week after the injection. Six days later and there is a rash across the top of her chest, back and slightly down one side, coupled with a slight increase in temperature. For all our doubts about the combined MMR vaccine it strikes me that in the end we meekly subjected our daughter to this procedure without knowing what exactly it was they were going to put into her. In the end we put our trust in the system and its statistics.

While I am not so paranoid or pessimistic to fear the worst (an allergic reaction to one or more constituents of the vaccine which would have happened within 20 minutes of the jab) I do suddenly feel negligent for not finding out what was in the vaccine to be able to answer the questions I must ask; why should she have any reaction at all to this vaccine, and what is she reacting to?

We trust the medical establishment and more so we trust the various vaccination programs. And yet every few years a particular vaccine is taken out of circulation or changed in order to remove an element that was suddenly deemed unsafe. A little research on the origins of vaccines is enough to turn the stomach, and it is still mind boggling to learn of some of the ingredients that make it into the injections today. You wonder what you allowed to be injected into your child. You begin to doubt.

The choice: To vaccinate or not. The mind works thus: If everybody else has the vaccine then there is nobody to catch the disease from - you are unique. Delusion can be a very dangerous thing. An infection might be lessened, weakened, or symptoms avoided altogether in those vaccinated. And to those unvaccinated?

Every once in a while you read a small story hidden away on a slow news day about a common disease in a far away country and how it kills, maims and disables. Every now and then you we are shocked by a local story about a unique little child but a stones throw away, killed, maimed or disabled by a common playground disease. And we are reminded why we vaccinate.

MMR

2008-05-09T21:16:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was the day of reckoning with the MMR vaccine which in the end turned out to be a storm in a tea-cup. A few tears as the plunger was depressed, a little sitting still with the comfort of mummy and then all was well. The usual period of making me the bad guy for holding her down was also shorter, probably thanks to their only being the one injection this time. No immediate allergic reaction, and according to the nurse, only the possibility of a rash (one can only assume they use a live virus for one of the vaccines) in a week or so time.

Given the amount of hand wringing over the decision whether or not to have the vaccine, I am glad we have this out of the way. That the previous study that claimed a link between autism and the MMR vaccine has been debunked does not entirely chase away the butterflies in the stomach.

Everything to do with Matilda’s progression and growth is absolutely fine. We’ve been told that things should slow down a bit now, which might mean less than a complete wardrobe change every other month. All other areas are improving as can be expected too; speech is fine, though her long conversations are still mostly alien to us, and she can understand certain words and phrases, especially 'no'. Her skills with objects gets better and better, so much so that there’s little she cannot get into.

Still no walking beyond what Matilda does once in a while to show off. So we know she can walk, she just chooses not to.

Easy as 1,2,3

2008-04-25T21:01:00.001+01:00

Matilda has taken her first unaided steps, three of them to be exact. The trick for her was to forget that she had both hands occupied and wanted to be elsewhere. If only the pile of toys was not in her way who knows how many more steps it could have been.

Taken on exactly her fifteenth month the steps felt a long time in coming but thinking back to when she had her tummy bug and fever she had lost a lot of confidence and had, for a time, stopped trying. She can walk when she wants to, that we are sure of. Holding both hands she shows no fear, but take but one away and she is as careful as someone defusing a bomb. Crucially, Matilda also realises the accomplishment of walking without holding onto anything that can support her, as was evident from the massive smile across her face and the giggling and almost hysterical laughter coming from her during and afterwards. A little more confidence and time is all that is needed.

Matilda grows at what appears to be a phenomenal rate. While she doesn’t outgrow her clothes on a week by week basis, there are other measurements that help us to realise how quickly she grows; the kitchen table and worktop, the windows in the bedroom (when balancing on the bed), the window sills in the lounge and the computer desk in the spare room. All places that were, until recently, safe from her wandering hands. Other than the highest reaches that are almost safe from us as well, there is now hardly anywhere in our place that we can leave things safe and out of reach. The idea of baby proofing is now nonsense; Matilda can not only get everywhere, but she can figure everything out.

Somewhere in Matilda’s head a switch flicked and her fingers and brain suddenly were coordinated in ways far more than ever before. If that was not enough, another switch close by must also have been brushed and so now she can open and get into just about everything. The only answer is constant vigilance. And so far the only things that have happened have been when we have looked away. It is frightening what can happen in a single second.

So Matilda develops and grows, becoming more of a person every day. Still we see days when there are leaps, behaviour previously unseen suddenly sprung upon us. What happens automatically is augmented by development that comes from being around other children. At least we hope. Watching her watch other children who can walk I am certain I can see longing and awe. However, all things in their own time. Nobody is in any rush.

Language comes along. While we speak a lot of English around her she is also learning some Norwegian too. Some of the sounds she makes when launching into her monologues sounds like English words, the rest are actual words. There still aren’t that many, and her language is still more body oriented along with sounds (that are sometimes words). We definitely have mumma/mummy, daddy/dada, although there seem to be a few other words that are similar to dad, including duh/duk (duck, but can also mean any bird). ‘Up’ is a new one, and the old ones are all still there, though their meaning seems to migrate here and there; wuvwuv (dog although may be applied to any animal except a bird), baby (often another baby, a reflection of herself, or a picture of something), had det (Norwegian for goodbye), hello (mostly said into a phone, copying her Daddy when he’s being silly) and so on.

We probably ought to be a little more serious in teaching her some words, pointing things out and so on. Matilda will be at a slight disadvantage in the beginning of her school, so we understand from sources that talk about bilingual households., so the relaxed and fun way we are doing things at the moment may have to change, at least a little. Well, it still HAS to be fun.

When Matilda is awake we really have a small person on our hands, complex, demanding, and wonderful. The baby vanishes and Matilda ages before our eyes. It is only when she is asleep that the baby she was can be seen. It is wonderful thing to see her grow, but to see her grow so fast… Sometimes you wish you could keep them forever. And then you gaze at your child and wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Happy Birthday Matilda

2008-02-02T13:59:00.000+01:00

I should have written this on her birthday but with all things recently… you get the picture. It’s that time of year where everything is dark and cold and you don’t want to get out of bed let alone do anything. Only a few days late with the birthday, but ever so bad with everything else.

Let’s start with Matilda’s birthday. Of course Matilda doesn’t know the day itself to be anything special but she certainly loved all the extra attention. Friends and family visited throughout the day bringing gifts, mostly ignored for the want of wrapping paper and boxes, provided constant excitement. Plenty of toys and clothes. The toys are soon going to present a problem with regards to space. Already our place looks like a crèche.

While eating on we heard the chink of enamel as the long awaited top front tooth signalled its entrance into the world. It’s one we’ve been waiting for and that has been giving Matilda a lot more discomfort than the others. Now it’s through, barring a little post expulsion trauma and the huge bulge of the tooth beside it, bed time ought to be a lot easier. That was tooth number four.

Since we are on the subject of teeth, the second bottom tooth arrived not too long after the first (November 10 entry), and then while we were waiting for one of the top ones that have been looking like they wanted to explode out at any moment for nearly six weeks, another tooth appeared along the bottom. That made birthday tooth was number four, and a few days ago the accompanying front tooth just began to peek through. Nights are a lot easier, so they were obviously a great source of discomfort at times. We tackled them as best as possible with a lot of attention, the odd painkiller and some magic liquid that we try to rub on her gums but usually has her just sucking and licking madly at our fingers. So five teeth all in all right now and the way Matilda’s chewing on her dummy there’s probably another one due along the bottom any time.

While the birthday was a nice occasion, it does bring a shock all of its own. Matilda is a year old. A whole year since she came into the world. The time has been filled with a constant stream of wonderful memories, but still all of a sudden it has been a year. Even now, looking back at pictures only a few months past she seems so different; so grown-up.

When we are in her presence the changes are more noticeable. Only the other day I said the word ‘clap’ in relation to something else and Matilda clapped. She had learned to clap along with another song and will now clap on command. The understanding and thoughts that are obviously going on behind her eyes had really gone over my head until that point. The realisation hit me that Matilda isn’t just a baby but a person. At that moment she changed from the baby that we did everything either for or with and became once again so much more. It also makes me wonder how much more I may be taking for granted.

So much has changed. The way she looks at us and the way she regards everything in her environment. She makes herself known through some small amount of language both verbal and visual; mostly shaking her head for no and pointing (with ever increasing degrees of agitation and ‘Tss’ing and ‘Htt’ing and even trembling) at things she wants or places she wishes to visit. Then there are the ways she expresses herself when she is happy, excited, sad, angry, and every state in between. The excited squeals when mummy or daddy come back into a room (and are expected to play) are the best of all.

The way she moves has changed drastically too. Before Christmas she was still getting to grips with crawling, progressing from a slither to a soldiers crawl to a fully fledged crawl on hands and knees. Christmas Eve Matilda decided enough was enough and decided to bring everything a further few inches within her reach by pulling herself into a standing position. She is smart enough to practice standing without holding onto anything on our bed and also smart enough only to make a game of it where she can fall onto something soft. Now she can stand unsupported (in the safety of a nice secure location) for over 10 seconds and walk along while supporting herself on objects. Our fears for both our possessions and Matilda’s delicate bones grow daily as she extends her reach into our world. The way she works at the gate latch at the top of the stairs I wonder if even the child safety measures we have will be enough. Draws present no problem, doors will be next. I doubt that anywhere below her head height plus 10 inches will be sacred anymore.

Finally I should say something about her love of music. Ever since the first musical mobile that we hung over her bed, Matilda has had a love of all things musical. Not necessarily all music, but certainly enough things that make noise. As she grows older she has progressed to liking music more and more. We indulge her, initially with classical in the hope of relaxing her, but then also onto cheesy pop music and euro-pop rubbish that has a thump-thump-thump or simple repetitive tone. Matilda already appears to be outgrowing that. While the likes of Kylie and Scooter are still able to catch her attention, now her current favourites are Girl from Ipanema, Crucified, Turning Japanese, and Seven Nation Army. What a girl!

At long last

2007-11-16T15:35:00.000+01:00

A tooth finally arrived with much less a fanfare of wailing and crying as a ‘chink’ as it was discovered during dinner. Bottom front, just poking through. We should probably start brushing already. With the amount of drool – THE sign that a tooth is on the way, hah - that was coming from Matilda we expected one six months ago and every day since.

(For the record the tooth was discovered on Saturday 10 November)

While Matilda is still not crawling she is able to get up on her hands and knees, otherwise thanks to shimmying, rolling, wriggling, turning and spinning she is just as mobile. She hasn’t managed to get herself into any trouble yet and her ever vigilant parents are constantly watching out for anything that shouldn’t be within reach or is likely to cause an accident. So far our reactions are up to it.

Her ever increasing mobility is not confined to her floor antics. Bedtime too is more fun because of it. We put her to bed, we hear nothing and then suddenly we can see M peeking at us from the bottom of her bed. Of an evening we can find her in almost any conceivable position in her cot now, sometimes she’ll be so tired and exhausted after pulling and pushing her way around that we find her asleep in the most mind boggling positions. Forget the old worry about babies sleeping on their stomachs, M tries sleeping on her head.

Mealtimes are easy enough although Matilda’s attention can wander at the drop of a hat, or the flicker of a screen, which is more likely as the main PC is badly situation for mealtimes. Banana is a firm favourite and when mashed and mixed with a little cinnamon it’s her drug of choice.

Her speech… noise-making then, is as cute as ever, with additional gargling sounds, including the brilliant ‘lagglelagglelaggle’, and the fabulous ‘gigglegagglegigglegaggle’. No real words yet, but she can wave goodbye, or hello. Well, she’ll wave back at you whatever the reason. Her facial expressions have improved and now include the ‘mischief’ look, and she can roll her eyes at us! Cute and a half.

And as autumn winds down and slowly pulls on its winter coat, M also begins to see the world in a different way. The snow of the last few days was quite amazing, and no doubt we’ll have more to look forwards to in the coming months. Christmas and all its preparations are already looming. While we know Matilda won’t really remember what goes on it’s going to be special for us because of her. So our preparations begin early and our expectations rise accordingly. Are we setting ourselves up for a fall? Never, Christmas would be perfect with just M and a ball of scrunched up wrapping paper and Bing Crosby in the background and a rousing verse of ‘gigglegagglegigglegaggle’. What more do you need?

Bababadadadada

2007-09-07T19:19:00.000+01:00

Still no teeth. The last few nights have been a little disturbed but that could be to do with the new bed rather than the ever elusive first tooth. Feeding is continuing nicely, with carrot and banana both still firm favourites.

M can move though she is not exactly crawling yet. The difference between crawling and not crawling is likely to be measured with a thud and a scream. Currently her movement comes from both turning over, spinning herself around and a weird kind of body shuffling that is reminiscent of a maggot. Maybe she just waits until our attention is elsewhere before she legs it to her new position. Still, however she is doing it, she is moving.

The speech has progressed to ‘babababababa’ and ‘dadadadadada’ and a form of raspberry blowing. While I can kid myself that sometimes she is saying ‘Dada’, it is just vocalisation and not words yet. Another thing she has recently taken to doing is a hybrid laugh, cough and raspberry, especially when she is excited and standing. While it is cute, it mostly just soaks the front of whatever she is wearing with drool.

And finally, still no passport. Mutter, mutter, grumble.

Aren’t we forgetting someone?

2007-09-06T14:26:00.000+01:00

Since M, even before she was born, our lives have no longer been just about us. In all the change and turmoil, somewhere along the way we seem to have forgotten about the pairing that began all this; us.

Everything about M is brilliant and wonderful, but when we take a step back it is obvious that we are both so focused on her and then on clawing back a little of ourselves that we have neglected ‘us’. Of course we have to consider M in all things but it is about time that we remembered each other too.

Our current lifestyles make this even more important for us. Our days blend into one another, Tuesday no different from Saturday. There are no days of the week to look forward to, no beginning or end for us to neither relish nor despise. Our seven day week is as meaningless as a one or one hundred day week. For us days are reduced to a series of labels that are as redundant as the days themselves.

The plan ; Of a weekend…

we may decide what the other wears,
we must do one thing the other asks, even if that thing is to decline the other’s suggestion,
we give each other a gift

It might sound like a thinly veiled sex game but it is what you make it and in our case that is to poke, prod and make us think about each other a bit more.

Why the plan? Why can’t we just do this? Why does it need to ‘become’ anything? Because our best friends ought not to be procrastination and apathy but each other.

Our 78th worst nightmare

2007-09-04T17:22:00.000+01:00

While it is a long way down the list of worst possible (and likely) things that can go wrong, our both getting fairly nasty colds heralded the prospect of M’s first illness. So far the worst she has suffered is a bloated tummy. When we came down with this season’s first big cold, complete with fever, runny nose, cough and sore throat, we dreaded the moment when M would start exhibiting symptoms. The misery we had already suffered would visit M and return to us a hundredfold. We waited. And waited. And for a change of pace waited some more. Nothing.

The miracle of breast milk. Horray for boobies!

Apple, Banana, and Carrot

2007-08-19T18:50:00.000+01:00

Feeding Matilda improved immensely when we added carrot and then banana into the menu. The grimacing we saw with the plain porridge vanished and at first she seemed to be instantly addicted to these new foods. Then reality bit back and slowly but surely she got used to these new tastes. While they still received a better response than the plain porridge, the wide mouthed eager babe had been replaced with a hesitant, picky babe who had to be cajoled into eating the food. She does eat and without complaint but the initial interest is no longer anywhere near as strong.

This is normal.

An interesting side effect of this development is that Matilda has learned to smile with her mouth closed. Yes, we used to try to trick her at times into smiling her big wide mouthed grin so that we could get that extra spoon or two in. Clever girl is learning all our tricks.

Today we tried apple. Curiosity allowed her to soak her entire front with drool before deciding that it was too sour for her tastes.

Food, glorious food

2007-08-09T10:59:00.000+01:00

The food goes down at last. Well it has for some days now. We are still on just one ice cube of porridge a day, for her 7pm feed, but we will be adding another one as she can now eat the whole thing. Usually.

We returned to the original porridge after just one attempt at the smoother corn flour porridge. I like to think that Matilda prefers the texture of the original oats so we stopped mashing it through a strainer. Then we thickened it up a little. For some reason we thought it would be easier to feed her if it was runnier, but it was only easier to leak out of her mouth. So thicker, less mashed and flavoured with breast milk. And she likes it.

Ok, ok. She only grimaces when the first spoon goes in.

The actual process of eating is still a little odd for M. The food goes into her mouth, she chews it, though I’m not entirely sure why, perhaps she’s just mimicking what we do when things go in our mouths. If that’s the case we hope we are helping her by providing chewing demonstrations while we are feeding her. If nothing else our demonstrations seem to make meal time more fun because she smiles a lot; big, food filled, wide mouthed, gummy smiles. Anyway, she chews and chews and then swallows. We think that this is still a reflex, the same as when you are at the dentist and when there’s too much saliva at the back of your throat and the dentist hasn’t siphoned it away you can’t help but swallow. So the connection between chewing and swallowing doesn’t seem to be there just yet, but it happens and that’s good enough for now.

Rollover

2007-08-09T10:55:00.000+01:00

She turns! From back-to-front at least. There was a front-to-back but Leni is convinced that was ‘an accident’ because today she only managed back-to-front so far, though I’m convinced she’s done both directions deliberately. Since neither was a fluke this means that we now have a slightly more mobile baby on our hands. True not very mobile, but we have to double the attention to all the things that might be in her reach, although she’s never left alone long enough for her to roll more than a couple of times. Where she might get to in that time is anybodies guess though, and all I can think of is whenever you drop something on the floor and you look for it and it turns out to have travelled half way across the room.

In other words, the moment we drop our guard she’ll be across the room. Be that at the top of the stairs, about to pull the table contents on top of her via the tablecloth, or just trying to pull herself up on a still unsecured bookshelf, it will be in the worst possible place and the one we hadn’t expected and prepared for. The terror begins to seep in. The baby catalogue comes out. The pen is considered.

First foods

2007-07-27T12:29:00.000+01:00

Matilda's first attempt at real food was a bit of a miss. I say real, but thin porridge sludge doesn't suggest real food to me. Anyway, she does not really like it right now. She's still being breast fed of course, so this is just extra to get her used to the idea of other foods. She is fine with the spoon, hell she loves sticking things in her mouth, but the food? Not a chance. She'll stick all kinds of odd things in her mouth without a flicker, but put food in her mouth and YUK, and out it comes. We’ve tried two different types of porridge so far and wow are they bland and tasteless. While we are making them with some breast milk we think that more may be the answer when you consider that BM is quite sweet. We don’t want to be stuffing things with sugar at this stage but there’s nothing wrong with flavouring her food with more breast milk.

Since she hasn't actually swallowed any of it we can't really say she's starting eating it yet. So no marking down of any dates just yet.

We also tried a starter cup too, but she hasn’t got the hang of that either. She’ll stick it in her mouth and chew on it, but she won’t suck and it’s one of those that will only release fluids if you suck on it. Oh well, give it time.

Kristiansund

2007-07-24T16:03:00.000+01:00

Kristiansund. Not Kristiansand. Easy mistake to make. Thought we were going to the deep south of Norway but we ended up in a fishing town an hour’s flight above Bergen.

Made up of four smaller islands, preposterously called Tahiti, Morocco, and then two more normal named small islands, Kristiansund is a former fishing town and smallish ship yard. Tourists seem to be their bread and butter these days with a solid trade in Kilppfisk, fish, usually cod, dried out in the sun atop the cliff (Klipp).

Matilda was once again fine with the flight, and we were slightly better prepared to get our train of luggage through the airport. Arrival we were met by Leni’s uncle Lars, and really for the rest of our time it was all about relatives. Meals with Leni’s aunt followed, Leni’s mother and Tom joined us out there as part of their trip up to the northernmost point of Norway where Tom’s family come from, and finally there were several trips to see Leni’s grandmother.

Everybody was happy to see Matilda. Matilda was also extremely happy to see all of them too. Her earlier bawling on meeting new people, especially her grandmothers, for the first time has given way to curiosity and simple delight. Otherwise the trip was uneventful, barring witnessing a woman being attacked by a seagull. Odd.

We sailed through Matilda’s six month birthday without any fanfare. Still, it’s a nice place to be. And everything is developing and growing on track. Nothing else to report there.

Many pictures were taken, most of them family shots for the family, most of them containing Matilda. Baby and old people overload. You have been warned.

Mr Blobby

2007-07-14T13:09:00.000+01:00

In the six months since M was born what routine we had got shot to hell and what started out as a change in diet (for the worse) for a little simplicity and convenience became a lazy lifestyle choice. Add to that the amount of celebratory dinners and parties over those same months and the scales tell a sorry tale.

Breastfeeding is a boon to the mother and helps in losing or at least keeping weight under control. The Dad has to look out for himself. And that’s where I am.

The scales tip 93kg for me right now. Well, they did last time I weighed myself and since the scales are actually at someone else’s house I have the good fortune to not be able to get on them a dozen times a day to obsess about things. It’s easier to tell how things are by my clothing. A week ago my size large t-shirts suddenly felt snug. Jeans were too tight if they would fit at all. Not one of my suits would fit me.

With a routine re-established things have improved to the point that we easily find the time to cook healthier food, and I’m back running, cycling and lifting the odd weight. Playing with M helps a lot too and does simply taking her for long walks (pushing a pram up all these hills is great for the legs and arms).

I just want to see my abs again. Too much to ask?

And

2007-07-12T17:37:00.000+01:00

Loads of photos have been put up in the flickr gallery from various parties.
Check the links on the right hand side :)

These are my feet

2007-07-12T17:21:00.000+01:00

Matilda continues to grow and grow. At yesterday’s health check she was 64.5 cm and weighed 5.970 Kg. According to both the public health nurse and the doctor Matilda is in perfect health. Almost six months now, so what have we seen since my last entry here?

Foremost in my mind is Matilda’s vaccinations, the first at 3 months, and the second at 5 months. Giving her the second of her vaccinations went a lot easier than the first batch. The first time I felt like a complete villain, having to hold her down while the nurse stabs her twice with a needle. M looked at me through her screams and sobs with the 'why are you letting this happen' look. Heart breaking, but it had to happen. The second visit was just some sobs, and not the damning 'you don’t love me any more' look.

The second set of injections was done the day before her first airplane journey. Tricky if she had any kind of reaction but as with the first set not a flicker of anything beyond two slightly sore thighs. The short flight to Oslo went ahead without any complaints whatsoever from Matilda. Our only worry was making sure she could deal with the pressure changes, which was just a matter of feeding or dummy usage. Matilda’s reaction to the flight thankfully answers a huge question for us and both enables and encourages us to travel further a field.

Matilda’s personal development is on track as well. She’s increasingly vocal, is far more conscious of herself and her environment, and her manual dexterity is fine (she can reach for things, pick things up, pass them from hand to hand, grip them in both hands and turn them over). She can pick up her dummy and put it back in her mouth (though while this is obviously her intention, it must be said that it also still involves a fair bit of luck), and has even held her own bottle while feeding (pumped not formula before you ask).

While her hands found each other at 3 months, her hands found her feet at 4. For a while it was just a little grasping at the toes, but then one day her fingers held, the toes were caught and the feet were discovered. After that the feet have been a constant source of fun for Matilda. Not only does she spend ages, especially before going to bed in the evening, grasping her feet, she sucks her toes and does her best to stick both feet in her mouth. There was even a phase just as she first began to be able to hold onto her feet where she would fall asleep with them in her hands and, more bizarrely, try to grab them in her sleep.

Tummy time has long ceased to be a trauma as both her upper body strength and her awareness of her surroundings increased. The first movements began as she would struggle to reach a toy and would end up turning in circles. Now she can inch forwards, with a good enough grip, using her hands to pull and legs and knees to push. Not quite crawling, but it gives the impression that it will not be too far away. Matilda can lift both ends of the floor just not at the same time. I just hope we are ready for when that happens.

And Still no teeth. I am beginning to think that the signs of drooling and chewing on things are simply coincidental development in a 4-6 month old child. Teeth will come along when they want to.

So, no scares, no problems, just a beautiful healthy, happy baby who seems to love the world and everything in it. Especially her feet.

The Smell of Gulp

2007-05-27T13:52:00.000+01:00

Matilda is four months. Almost four months and two weeks at the time of writing. This was supposed to be a three month update, and late at that. Time and time again I sat down and just did something else. The problem is not that things do not happen but that they happen so gradually. The milestones are things we notice for the most part once we are past them. Was that a smile at 6 weeks, did she really turn over from front to back yesterday unaided, was that a squeal or a real laugh?

So much for our scrap book. So much for the foot print painting. Perhaps it will be a running joke when Matilda is in her twenties and we’ll arrange to do it ‘tomorrow’. Our organisation is terrible. Every day feels like we are only catching up. Every rest we take feels guilty. But not too guilty. However, the pieces for the scrap book are there, the pictures for our fading memories are taken, and we will stick her feet in paint and make her walk across a sheet of paper and frame it. Tomorrow.

Life isn’t all that bad. I like to rant to listen to the voice in my head and to read it back to myself. That and it makes me feel productive. We do have a few things to talk about though.

Matilda shot through her three month ‘birthday’ without much fanfare. The milestones were ‘appearing’ and we could see her develop, as usual, mostly before our eyes. The vague moans and gurgles grew stronger and the cries more meaningful. Her height and size continue as clockwork, though her weight is somewhat lacking. This is no cause for concern as Leni upped the feeding rate and Matilda herself never appears to be going hungry. At least not from the cries we can interpret. We know the hunger cry and it’s never ignored. No, Matilda’s problem is that she is simply fussy and impatient. The fatty milk that comes after the thinner milk at the beginning of breast feeding seems to be too much effort for her to get out. So she’s not getting quite as much from the breast as she could. It doesn’t hamper her growth or her state of well being and happiness, only her weight and to a small extent our minds. We would like everything to be perfect but understand that we are lucky that everything is as good as it is. The weight isn’t going to be an issue. Aside from a little dry skin and the occasional rash Matilda is in the very best of health.

The biggest event recently was her Matilda’s naming party on the 6^th May. I’ll write that up separately, but it was fun. The weather… well, read about it.

Matilda blasted out her first real laugh (25^th May). Leni was playing with her in bed and she just started chuckling. Tickling just between her ear and chin along the neckline seems to do the trick. She doesn’t seem to be ticklish anywhere else. Wonderful to hear her laughing though.

The only other event of note was our group meeting with the other mothers at the health clinic. Walking in, late as usual, we were assaulted by the rank acidic smell of gulp. As nasty as it is you do get used to it, albeit slowly. Breathing through the mouth in shallow breathes helps. It’s interesting to se the development in the other children. Nobody is actually ahead of any other, but all have things they are better at than the rest. You can’t help but compare and wonder, without jealousy, when your own child will be able to do what you see others capable of. The only thing I can happily do without is a child that wants to taste everything. Watching 3 children gulp up on the floor (which was wiped clean, but there’s only so much you can get up off of a playmate) and then another child start licking the floor filled me with mirth. And then I start to think about all the people that have walked on the mat, all the other children that have gulped up on it, all the things spilled on it, and then I am filled with revulsion. Watching the child’s tongue lap at the floor becomes horrifying. I tell the mother. They all laugh. My stomach wants to be somewhere else.

The Speech

2007-05-07T16:50:00.000+01:00

Around eleven months ago we found out, to our great surprise and joy, that we two would eventually become three. Once our initial shock had passed we began to mull the idea of names over between us. From the very beginning we realised it would be difficult.

It wasn’t until the ultrasound that we really began looking hard for a name. Hundreds of names, from dozens of nationalities, and behind every possibility a thousand reasons to reject it. Knowing we were to expect a daughter was a blessing as it cut out the problem of boys names. Our task halved we looked in detail at every girls name we could find.

We eventually came down to a choice of three; Sophie, Emily and Harriet. Sophie was our favourite, it both sounding right and was connected to Leni’s family: Once upon a time there was a woman named Sofie, and in 1907 she married and became Sofie Iversen. 100 years later her great great granddaughter would be born. A Sofie Burns-Iversen? Before we even learned of the existence of the 1907 Sofie, the name was the first one we agreed that we liked. It seemed too much of a coincidence; surely this baby had to be a Sophie…? And then there was the name Emily. The combination Emily Sophie was also discussed. We decided to leave a final decision until after she was born, so that we could see what name would fit her best.

From the moment she was born she asserted her will upon us. How ridiculous we were to think that we could ever decide the name for our child. On the morning after her birth it just came out of me, ‘Doesn’t she look like a Matilda?’ Leni gave out daughter a startled look and agreed: ‘Yes, she really does!’

The name Matilda came out of nowhere. A name that hadn’t made our shortlist, nor had we even considered. Who can deny destiny. And so suddenly there was Matilda.

Matilda did not stick straight away. It struck like lightning and left itself smouldering in our minds and hearts. We still liked Sophie, though we could agree she wasn’t an Emily or a Harriet. But we still liked Sophie. And that was what we realised; we liked Sophie, but did it suit our daughter? We decided to try both.

The name Matilda grew as time passed and it became obvious that that was her name. Matilda it was. Still we liked Sophie. So a middle name it becomes.

Matilda Sophie Burns-Iversen.

Matilda is our pride and joy and we are blessed to be able to experience life with her. From her first grasping, screaming moments we loved her completely. Her smile lightens and her squeals delight, and every scream and tantrum is a wonderful affirmation of life. Every day she adds more and more to our lives.

We hope Matilda is kind, considerate, loving and compassionate. We hope she will be prosperous, confident, modest, and generous. Rich in family and friends she should never want for anything in life. Most of all we hope she is happy.

Everybody please welcome Matilda Sophie Burns-Iversen.

Show her off around the room

While you are here we hope you will find the time and words to write a message to her in the book on the table. Thank you for coming and enjoy the food.

Matilda's Naming Day

2007-05-07T15:39:00.000+01:00

The idea of a naming party, or ceremony, for Matilda was built up in our minds a long time ago. We had already decided against a Christening since neither of us was Christian, and the only other ‘official’ option appeared to be the Humanist society. I began to wonder what a man (or woman) who knew nothing about us as parents and Matilda as a person would say and do during the ceremony. What could they say that would have any relevance beyond generic platitudes and well wishes? There’s nothing wrong with that, but we wanted the words to be said over our child to have meaning and the only people able to give her that is us.

Rolling up to Sunday the 6^th May all the vague ideas about what we might say and do for the ceremony part of Matilda’s naming party vanished without a trace. The idea of ‘wetting her head’ and such like seemed trite. But what was the point in worrying about something that was a black page waiting to be written. Of course I wanted it to be nice, meaningful and personal. Why not just a speech.

Something in Norwegian and English to cater for the guests as well as the heritage of our little girl. Something not too short to be over before people have had a chance to blink and not too long so that the day grows dark and people fall asleep. I think we got it right.

The party was held in a local kindergarten, and our parents as well as several other relations and friends managed to make it. The weather stopped short of my desired thunder and lightning but only just. The calm balmy sunshine of the previous days gave way to gale force winds and rain. There was a single peal of thunder, alas too far away and at the wrong time to be anything approaching ominous or prophetic. Inside was loads of Norwegian food, especially funny to inflict in the conservative palates of my own family.

People fed, the speech given and received, presents opened and admired, people began to thaw and talk to one another. I hope everybody enjoyed themselves. There are pictures and comments are welcome. And finally a thank you to all of those who came and especially those that wrote a message of goodwill in Matilda’s Naming Book.

Click here to view the pictures.
Click here to view the speech.

Ten Weeks

2007-04-02T21:17:00.000+01:00

Ten weeks. In one way it hardly seems like any time at all has passed and at the same time I can count the seconds of each day as slowly as the minutes pass.

The most immediately visible change in Matilda is her size. She now weighs around 5 kilos, every one of which I feel when I have to bounce her out of a bad mood. And while I still cannot see it, more people have said that she looks more like me than she does of Leni. I think they are all barking, but at the same time a little voice at the back of my head quietly informs me that perhaps it is I that looks more like Matilda and not the other way around. Perhaps Daddy ought to skip some of the Easter chocolate this year.

Being around Matilda constantly, it is harder for us to see the changes in size and weight that our visitors see clearly and instead have to rely on the weigh-ins at the health centre during check ups and occasional visits, and each set of clothes that she rapidly outgrows. For us the biggest changes and surprises are the day-to-day things.

Smiling has progressed from her early ‘I’m not sure, it could be a grimace’ to beautiful, wide mouthed smiles and grins that reach the eyes and light her whole face up. Smiles are usually accompanied by an ever expanding range of devastatingly cute noises. While we can generally interpret her cries, we haven’t got a clue when it comes to her ‘speech’. It is very cute though and makes us smile along with her if nothing else.

Matilda’s awareness of her world also grows daily and quickly too. It is easy to see a great deal more in her eyes and face in reaction to everything that goes on around her. And while I had assumed she is still only reacting to things, when put in her cot with her musical mobile off, she will try to turn it on herself (very difficult and frustrating if we have left the master switch turned off) as well as restarting it when the cycle is over. This began with random flailing and accidentally hitting the right buttons. I had assumed that was still the case until today when she turned to face the mobile’s control panel (inside the cot for the baby to be able to use) and pounded on it to get it started. When it stopped, instead of complaining she would turn back to the control panel and hit one of the play buttons again, starting the music over. She won’t even pick up a toy and yet she has figured this out already.

So much for the good things. Bath time and tummy time are still very hit or miss. Mostly miss. Matilda can begin the climb to apoplexy courtesy of a simply wiping of the face. Tummy troubles visit seldom, thankfully, but the discomfort they bring makes Matilda very irritable which requires us to distract her during almost every waking hour. It can all be very exhausting.

And there go the batteries in her musical mobile. Tonight might turn out to be a very long night.

Feeding Time

2007-03-20T15:34:00.000+01:00

I have finally managed to get around to feeding Matilda myself. It was quite the experience and while I am sure it can never compare with a mother’s feeling of feeding, it was quite exquisite nonetheless. She patiently sat in my lap, looking up at me as the bottle was slowly emptied, her eyes constantly staring at me until the squeaking of an empty bottle meant our time was up.

And before anybody moans about using formula, Leni expressed enough for me to feed her. The expressing itself using the pump we have is tortuous, and really only works well enough when Leni is just about ready to burst with milk. Still it gives her the opportunity to take a longer break and to even enjoy an occasional glass of wine, proves that Matilda will drink from a bottle so that we might both be able to go out and leave her in the care of grandmother (N), and of course lets me enjoy, at least half of, the experience of feeding my child.

Baby-Fu

2007-03-12T21:27:00.000+01:00

Placing Matilda down on her play-mat after feeding we watched her as she writhed around for a while. Having a moment to ourselves while she was occupied fulfilling whatever needs she gets from being on the mat and throwing her arms and legs around we managed to eat a rare meal together while it was still warm. And then we look back at the cute noises she is making only to see her butt and legs lifted into the air and her arms close to her chest with her fists up.

*KICK* goes one leg, shooting straight out and back again.
*JAB* goes one hand, out as fast as the eye can see.
*KICK-JAB-KICK-KICK-JAB* go her limbs snapping in and out.
*RRRRAARR* she says, which probably translates to,

‘Don’t mess with Matilda, I know Baby-Fu!’

Seven

2007-03-12T20:24:00.000+01:00

What? Seven weeks gone already? What the hell happened? Where did all the time go? That’s the continued chaos of moving house for you.

The last few weeks have been a blur, but at least almost everything is up and running with the house. Just a few things left, which will be gotten to when time and Matilda allow.

We don’t need the pictures from the first week to see that our Matilda is growing furiously. She’s already outgrowing her earliest clothes and has moved up a size in her nappies. At the health check (a few days after she was 6 weeks old) she was weighed and came in at around 4350g, nearly half her birth weight again. Her face was already taking on that chubbiness that all healthy babies have and her legs and arms have filled out nicely too. All in all she’s looking quite the beautiful baby. Except for the rash. Mother’s hormones are giving Matilda the odd spot or two and a rash (that has mostly faded at the time of writing) on the right hand side of her face. Nothing to worry about we are told.

The health check also looked at many of the milestones that an infant of six weeks ought to have achieved; being able to hold her head up for a short time, being able to focus and maintain focus on a face or finger in front of their face, able to grip things that are put into their hands, and so on. Matilda passes with flying colours. The doctor wasn’t present which means a return visit for some other tests but that’s some days away yet.

The last few weeks have seen a world of change in Matilda. First of all is the way she communicates. Her cries have begun to become more distinctive for when she is bored, scared, wants company, is hungry, is uncomfortable or is just plain annoyed. While the old cry and bleating scream is still there and comes out when Matilda feels the need, she will open her monologue far more civilly and attempt to communicate her desires and needs with her new found language skills. We have found some communication aids on the internet that help identify the reflexive sounds and cries a baby can make in response to their needs. While we had worked most of them out it is reassuring to find that there is a large body of research (mostly) supporting our own discoveries with Matilda’s growing catalogue of cries.

Beyond the cries for assistance, food, changing, company, and comfort, she is making good use of her vocal cords and beginning to make various noises that are the beginnings of her speech. Her most common word thus far is ‘ugglug’, with ‘awwoowaa’ a close second and 'agoo' following in third position. Every few days something new comes out of her mouth and though we can’t really make head nor tail of what she is saying, it’s awfully cute and right now that’s what matters.

And whilst on the subject of cute, she’s smiling! Sometimes they turn into a grimace, other times they turn into the beginnings of a wail of anguish, but sometimes they stay on her face and are just that, smiles. (As of the time of writing the smiles are reaching her eyes and just seem to beam out from her face.) As well as the smiles there are a load of other strange, cute and outrageous facial expressions that for the most part are a combination of just eyes, frown and mouth. Between the three she can manage dozens of different looks covering sad, hopeful, sly, happy, thoughtful, contemplative, expectant, surprised, terrified and so on and on. Hold onto your stomach, it gets cuter still.

A play-mat has become our saviour. It’s no more than a soft piece of padding with a few points of interest on, but for some reason when she doesn’t want to be carried, she loves the freedom of the mat. Matilda doesn’t really do anything with the mat per se, it’s just there for her. The first time it wasn’t such a hit, but the taste of freedom must have hidden itself deep within and now its bliss. Sometimes she will just lay there admiring a random spot of something on a wall or ceiling (just what is so fascinating about staring off into infinity?) or she will start making noises and throwing her limbs around. On the subject of throwing her limbs around, she has developed the alarming habit of hitting herself in the head with her right hand. It doesn’t seem to bother her yet but it is rather odd.

The soothing counterpart to the mat is the electronic musical mobile that Tom bought for her cot. It revolves, it lights up the ceiling at night with stars, and it plays lullabies or classical music for ten minutes at a time. Best of all it keeps her attention for those ten minutes and is often enough to lull her to sleep. I had to admit, I hated it in the beginning but now it is worth its weight in gold. The tunes it plays have scarred me for life, but it’s a small price to pay.

When comes the time that neither the play-mat nor the mobile are what she wants another option is time with daddy and that means music!! (Or singing or bouncing and twirling around but I want to talk about music and it’s a good enough link for me.)

The experiment to find her favourite music, from the collection of MP3’s on the PC at least, has met with some success. Spurning almost anything that might be considered modern music, she has so far reacted most favourably to Popcorn by Hot Butter, I’m Turning Japanese by the Vapours, and Hey Hey We’re the Monkees by the Monkees. It doesn’t say much for her musical credentials, but all I am concerned with is finding a slew of tunes that make her happier than not for when she’s feeling miserable and implacable by ordinary daddy means. I must try the Rammstein again. You never know.

The only blight on her otherwise impeccable manners is her absolute hatred of all things ‘bath’. Back come the old warbling cry and the bleating screams and the turning scarlet and purple. It’s quite a show and as they say, the show must go on.

One month old!

2007-02-22T19:01:00.000+01:00

Matilda is a month old! And happy birthday to Leni too :)

A month already. Time passes in the blink of an eye and I am glad for all the pictures I am taking as I am writing this far past the time I ought to have done so and already I am forgetting lots and lots of the smallest things that make up all the charm and enjoyment of having a newborn child around you.

Matilda is moving her limbs around more though her hands really only grasp at things if they are put in her hands. While she is moving more, her movements aren’t directed towards anything. There’s no interest in toys really and it takes a lot to take and hold her interest in anything, though we can catch her attention and she will follow us with her eyes when moving around for a short while. This is quite normal. It still means there isn’t that much that she actually does, and our interaction with her is mostly responsive to her cries and chaotic, frenzied feeding schedule. We do go through some tummy time though that is hit or miss when it comes to if she’ll take it calmly or scream like a banshee when turned over. I’m sure tummy time will be a bit easier when she has just a bit more ability to hold and turn her head than she does currently.

Her hatred of water and bathing especially is still with us. She has enjoyed one bath so far and everything else has been a screaming display of extreme displeasure. Still she has to be cleaned so she gets to exercise her lungs while we bath and wash her. Her screams and yells finally ease to shuddering, wracking sobs when wrapped in a nice warm and soft towel and given some free time on our bed (with suitable precautions taken for her uncanny ability to detect a pooping or peeing opportunity). A minute or two later and the ignominy of bath time is a distant memory and she is either all happily focussed on a spot on the ceiling or wall or attached to one of mummy’s boobs.

Her ability to pee as soon as we take the nappy off or poop as soon as a new one is put on boarders on the supernatural. She can make all the movements and motions, all the grunts and groans, her face will strain and go red while her body will writhe and arch and then all will be still. Then as soon as it’s off she’ll pee everywhere without a flicker of effort, or even better and far more impressive, she will explosively decompress and poop clear across the room. By far the most common occurrence is her ability to know when we have finished changing and dressing her. I guess the removal of stress relaxes her, and when she’s relaxed, well, she’s very relaxed. And so we do it all over again.

The house moving was twice as stressful and chaotic as we thought it would be. The first few days was just moving everything in and then setting things up. Then there was all the remaining packing and cleaning from the old apartment. Until we had chosen and made up the bed (literally made up, it came flat packed from Ikea) we slept at Leni’s mother’s apartment. Finally things were set up enough to move in and still half of our things are still in boxes, and we have only just got a sofa. That said, the bed is superb and is such an improvement over the old thing we had for far too many years, and can safely have all three of us laying there without any danger of one of us rolling over and squashing Spawn. Making up all the Ikea furniture is not much fun, but it’s all done now and all we have to do is move everything from the remaining boxes and into their rightful places. And here I thought that would only take a few days. Heh. My work estimates have always been off by a factor of 10. Some things never change.

Week 2

2007-02-05T18:28:00.000+01:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Matilda Sophie Burns-Iversen.

It was always going to be hard to deny that voice that said ‘Matilda’ as soon as she was born and laid on Leni’s chest. And so Matilda she is. We were going to go with just Matilda Burns-Iversen, but we still liked Sophie enough and so it becomes a second name, and something she can use for herself in years to come if she so wishes.

For all you English speakers out there, in Norwegian the ‘e’ in Sophie is pronounced more like a short ‘a’. Like ‘Sophia’ rather than ‘Sophie’.

The biggest shock has been realising that we know next to nothing about the why’s, what’s, milestones and generally anything at all to do with having and raising an infant. Everything was so geared towards the birth that we simply forgot about finding out about and preparing ourselves for the next stage. Simple questions such as how warm the bedroom should be, when can they smile, what can they see, when and how their sight changes, what their hands should be doing, attention span and focussing issues, and so on and so on. Thank god for the internet. We obviously have some catching up to do.

Every now and then just while looking at her or holding her, we will notice a leap forwards in the way she relates to our world, be it the way we hold her attention or she focuses on something more intently. It feels mundane writing about it but the moment you see your child change so is amazing.

As for Matilda herself, she gulps a bit, hiccups a lot, cries when she wants something, she flails around a bit more and grunts and strains with whatever is going through her belly at the time. There has been some crying thanks to some bloating but nothing too serious. What it has produced is a daddy that is willing to abuse and humiliate himself in any and every way possible in order to calm and soothe and help get to sleep our Matilda. My specialities are singing in the worst possible voices (mostly my own) with whatever lyrics I manage to make up on the spot, usually from a well known tune or two but equally as often I will make up a song of my own. And my singing really is awful. But Matilda likes it.

Matilda’s crying can reach quite a peak when she is distressed. It begins with a niggling cry and if unchecked or not soothed enough or in time it will grow and grow. Her main battle cry is something to behold, but her piece de resistance is her screaming bleat, sounding something like a cross between a shrill cry and a bleating lamb. Oddly enough, bleating back at her stops her crying too. While I am immune to the sounds of a child crying (it sounds like an affirmation of life to me) Leni is still suffering from the stresses and strains of the birth and from all the hormonal and other changes her body is undergoing once again. While nowhere near a case of the baby blues, Matilda’s crying can produce the same result in mummy.

On the subject of post natal depression, things are quite fine there. Leni is coping well with being a mother and a parent, and I am being as supportive as I can while still being me and doing all the things I need to and ought to be doing. Sometimes there are some spontaneous tears but that is largely hormonal rather than any signs of depression. Of course things are a little stressful, but we are all coping well. And let’s hope that continues as next week we add a house move onto our list of woes.

The first week

2007-01-29T18:15:00.000+01:00

The midwives are no longer needed and we are all doing fine. The long feared ‘good advice’ never really came, and all in all things are pretty easy right now. Spawn wakes, feeds, cries a bit and we change her. Her mode of communication is pretty limited and she sleeps more than anything else. There’s already a hint of personality appearing and the changes in the way she looks after just a week are fairly staggering. Every now and then we see a leap forwards in the way she looks at something, the facial expressions, the sounds she makes and even just the way she lays there and sleeps.

The burden is still all on the mother of course. I find things easy because Leni is the one that gets up in the night to feed her, feeds her during the day and in doing so has the most contact and is the one that soothes her the most. I try to help when and where I can, but the nights are Leni’s while I cover the changing and soothing of the mornings. A potential problem is that near the smell of milk she instinctively wants to feed, so once she is full if she is still fussing it’s over to me.

Full milk production is under way and feeding is about every two hours. Right now Leni gets emptied so ‘full production’ is probably a way off yet, but there’s certainly enough. Something about it is changing though as green pesto poop slowly gives way to more of a yellow French mustard type of yuk.

Most of her clothes are too big thanks to her slightly smaller than expected birth weight and size. That will all change very quickly I’m sure. What few garments we have are awfully cute and we are already falling into the sexist trap of dressing her in ‘girly’ colours. Or at least anything that fits is a girly colour.

It strikes me that there isn’t all that much to do except feed her, change her and let her sleep. For all the notice she takes of us when we carry her around, for all that she actually does, there is really not all that much to her yet. Somehow I thought there would be so much more.

We are still stuck when it comes to deciding on her name. I am slowly convincing myself that we still like Sophie as a first name because we convinced ourselves for the last 4 months that that was what she was going to be when she was born. And of course as soon as she was born her entire being screamed ‘Matilda’. Are we too attached to a name we like rather than a name that suits her? We are trying both names out to see how they sound and feel. I think fate has spoken already though.

Day 2

2007-01-25T18:02:00.000+01:00

Schmoo is still keeping to her early sleep pattern though she is beginning to respond much more to all forms of external stimuli. Well, different lights and sounds anyway. Still it seems strange that at night it’s us who remain awake listening to her every sound and those agonizing silences.

Leni still hasn’t started full milk production and baby isn’t getting any gentler. This adds up to some brutal treatment of already sore nipples. Leni winces but there are no complaints. Full milk production won’t take too long and the midwives say that it will ease things considerably. Something is getting through, and not being gulped back up, as the black tar is mostly a thing of the past and has now been replaced by a green sludge that is visibly indistinguishable from Pesto.

Exhaustion caught up with us today and we slept loads. Thankfully, so did baby. It has been explained to us that once the umbilical cord was cut that our baby’s nutrition supply was cut off. As her stomach matures so she will notice that lack of food more and more and wake every time she feels hungry. The only way she has to communicate her hunger is by crying. The more she eats the better her digestive system gets, the hungrier she gets, the more she will wake up, and the more she will cry.

We will be returning home later today so now is the time we should be stocking up on smart answers to stupid questions. This is not just because we are first time paranoid, scared parents, but also because we are likely to be surrounded by a deluge of good advice.

It is going to be scary leaving this clinic and its army of midwives on call 24 hours a day every day. Here everything is a heart-beat away. At home it will just be us.

And later, at home, when Grandmother (N) and Tom leave, suddenly everything feels quiet and empty. Finally it’s just us. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Day 1

2007-01-24T06:56:00.000+01:00

Schmoo (her gap name until we finally decide on it) slept soundly. Exhaustion I imagine. Perversely we woke continuously throughout the night, focussing on her every cough, sneeze and gurgle but most of all the silences. How queer it will seem in the weeks and months ahead that we actually wanted to hear noise from her, in any shape, sound or form.

Silence is scary. You notice them and wait with baited breath. You hear the clock ticking like a hammer while your own breath is like the wind and above all you strain to hear even the faintest sounds of life from your newborn. A splutter and a tiny cough, and a collective sigh of relief.

The paediatrician declared baby to be in perfect health later that morning. Not that I saw him do much more than shine a light in her eyes and watch her cry for a while. At least he had to deal with the first of a huge batch of the black tarry like poop that babies dispense for the first few days of their lives. Where she hid that much I have no idea. 9 months of internal dinners I suppose. It looked to us that with all the prodding, poking he was trying to squeeze and wring every last bit of it from her. Maybe it was another test?

Grandmother(N) - for Norway – has finally arrived. I say finally but she has probably been cuffed and bound to stop her from arriving in the middle of the night. The room is full of soft baby talk right now, none of which (thankfully) Schmoo can understand. I wish I was so lucky.

Lots of well wishers calling, some wanting to visit. Leni’s still very easily exhausted and we want to keep things slow and peaceful while it is still possible. Another day or so and then the exhibition can open.

Every time the midwives change Schmoo’s garments they rewrap her in several layers of mystically folded cloth, sheets and blankets. It makes me glad that we opted for the easier option of disposable nappies and that normal baby clothes mostly come with ties, buttons, snap fasteners and Velcro. I never realised that midwivery required a black belt in the art of origami. Midwives really are quite amazing.

Mother and daughter (not Schmoo) are talking now. Time to blend in with the wallpaper. Thank god for Nietzsche.

At the end of the day breast feeding is already an agony, and all the little one wants to do in her waking moments is suckle. The midwives take pity on us for a while and keep baby amused away from the smell of mother and milk. Finally we can sleep.

And then there were 3

2007-01-23T09:06:00.000+01:00

It has been nine hours now since Leni’s water broke. Five hours since we decided to leave for Storken (the birthing clinic). Nine hours of ever increasing contractions.

Leni has one acupuncture needle remaining in her scalp, the ones in her hands and feet having already been removed. Apart from two painkillers when she woke this morning, this is all the pain medication she has had so far. I can’t tell if it’s helping, and I don’t really know how painful her contractions are since one person’s ouch is another person’s arrgh.

The contractions are becoming both more powerful and lasting longer and are evidently more painful but are still too infrequent at this point. One of the midwives tells us that they do not consider it labour until there is at least 4cm dilation (Leni replied ‘I don’t care how much it is!’). When we arrived the first midwife pronounced her to be only 1-2 centimetres and would probably have sent us home were it not for the bad weather and my not actually having a car. They thought the initial contractions would fade after a short while but no such luck. Still, we would rather stay. It feels safer here, knowing we are in competent and safe hands. As I write (originally) Leni is being checked by midwife number 3 (her second check up altogether, midwife number 2 just came and went) and almost miraculously her contractions step up another gear. The midwife estimates roughly 3-4 cm.

Right now I feel like a lemon; apart from getting Leni things when she wants them, rubbing her lower back when she needs it, and greeting a succession of midwives I do not feel as though I am doing much. Luckily the chair I have monopolised is comfortable and Nietzsche is a great sedative.

Leni tried the giant bath to help with the pain. It seemed to help, especially spraying warm water on her lower back and the water feels nice in general, but you can only remain in a bath for so long.

12 hours of contractions now. More acupuncture too. The current midwife tells me that Leni is 5cm dilated and also that a blood test is required since it’s been 12 hours since her water broke. The test comes back fine. They have begun to monitor baby’s heartbeat more frequently too and she is fine too. Nothing to worry about at all really, so I can continue feeling zesty and un-useful.

14.5 hours. Leni is completely exhausted and really wants baby out. Relatives are anxious on the little news coming back from me, but what is there to tell except ‘bigger and more contractions’ This is a case where no news ought to be accepted as good news. I still feel useless and my hands are smooth from the amount of back rubbing I am doing during her contractions. The midwife returns. Another examination. I have to point out that the midwives are fantastic and most amazingly of all can perform what amounts to origami with sheets and pillows to keep Leni comfortable. The midwife announces, to her own surprise as much as ours, 10 cm dilation and the baby’s head is in the neck of the womb. Not long now.

15.5 hours since water broke. Leni is fully dilated but the contractions are not coming quite fast enough. Despite a number of different positions and a great deal of valiant effort on Leni’s part, the midwives decide to give a helping hand (literally in one case) and administer some nipple tweaking (supposed to help with contractions both before and after birth), some acupuncture to her toes (ouch), a glucose drip, and finally a drug to help strengthen her contractions. There is a lot of pushing and a monitor is attached to Leni’s belly so that they can check on the baby’s heartbeat which is still perfectly fine despite all the strain and effort on both mother and daughter.

The midwives decide that a small incision will help Leni give birth and with a quick snip and huge push, a purple, hairy, gurgling-screaming baby slips free, face down into the safe waiting hands of a midwife.

At eighteen minutes past ten in the evening we become parents. I become a father. A tidal wave of emotion hits me and a mixture of pride, relief, love and gooeyness wells up inside of me, forcing a tear or two down my cheeks. In all the fuss I don’t think anybody noticed.

Born January 22, 2007, 22:18 (Central European Time)
Length 49cm, weight 3000g (exactly!!)

No name yet (but currently alternatively called Spawn/Schmoo). Lots of black hair on her head and longish finger nails. Got a grip of iron too, and except for when they took her measurements, hardly any fuss. I get to cut the cord and then they get to work cleaning the wound up and making everybody comfortable.

Mother is doing fine. A little traumatised from the birth, stitches (the injection of local anaesthetic hurt as much as the incision from the sounds Leni made) and removal of the placenta (not as painful as the birth but not as easy as I imagined it would be either) but has otherwise found reserves of energy and is beaming and glowing. Father is missing all that family time writing this. Spawn is suckling in her sleep. Everything is just perfect.

The placenta looked like a large piece of floppy raw liver. Watching that emerge (it was actually pulled out via the umbilical cord by the midwife with some considerable force) was... interesting.

The birth itself happened with Leni in a sitting position on a special metal framed stool while I sat on the edge of the bed, supporting her from behind. I could see and feel the efforts of her contractions and the amazing sight when her belly emptied and Spawn entered into our world.

Spawn is crying now thank to a vitamin K injection. It’s a cruel world.

2007-01-22T15:14:00.000+01:00

And then her waters broke. (6am local time)

All is calm. Everybody is well.

Ten days to go

2007-01-17T20:42:00.000+01:00

Ten days to go. Our overnight bags are the only thing remaining. The pregnancy has been very easy for Leni with none of the problems that it is possible to have except for a little sickness early in the pregnancy and a little now in the final stages. A little water retention but nothing bad, and being able to poke my finger into her leg and leave a hole is more funny than dangerous.

Much of our thinking is directed towards the birth; will it be on time, what will it be like, and then all the different combinations of scenarios that could play out at the birthing clinic. Neither of us thinks the worst. I hide behind humour rather than think bad thoughts and Leni has tears and then gets set straight by me; everything will be fine. It’s as simple as that. There’s no point thinking other thoughts. I don’t need to spell it out do I?

Advice trickles in from various sources, most of it useful. I’m sure it will all help us if we followed it all but to be honest I am hearted by this simple fact; cavemen were having kids and look how we all turned out. If they can do it, so can I. Things are also a bit easier these days too.

Our last big ‘wait a minute, exactly how do we…?’ moment was about bathing a baby. Just exactly how do you do it? We’ve been since told that the nurses at the centre will show us how for the first bath. Everything else is just waiting to pounce on us unawares.

I am still as laid back as ever. Sometimes the humour spills out, and I assume it is a combination of nerves and excitement. At other times I am completely at ease with it all. I am certainly looking forwards to her arrival and being a dad.

To document and catch every moment I also have a new camera. Finally a camera that can take a picture in less than the two seconds in takes my old digital point and shoot to miss the action. Expect a million pictures soon.

Post Christmas

2007-01-04T18:26:00.000+01:00

With Christmas and New Year behind us and just under four weeks to go we suddenly have a moment of panic. Nothing is ready! What are we going to do? We are bad parents!!

While not strictly true, there were a few things missing from the flat that ought to have been in place by now, and one weekend of shopping and there we are, nothing but some more towels to buy now. Placated and calmed we sat back and relaxed. Now what do we do?

The baby can come at any time. She’s been viable for a while and on the pregnancy and baby forums we read a lot about some that come early. We are prepared but still there’s nothing to do but wait. The days come and go and nothing really happens. Leni gets a little bigger, the baby hiccups, moves, kicks and occasionally tries to push mummy’s stomach contents back up her throat with her bare hands. I carry on as normal. As normal as possible when your mind is mostly on one thing and one thing only.

I have pictures from Christmas too. I ought to post them, oughtn’t I!

Happy New Year

2006-12-31T13:26:00.001+01:00

And lo the festival of the Fattening hath passed and Mr Burns spake unto his better half, ‘So, more of the same next week?’

And his better half, having great wis-domme, answered verily, ‘Yay to go out on a night such as this would be a grate trial and terrible danger to ye as yet unborne fruit of thyne loines that I carry within thee tummy of mine. That and thy feet do ache after no less than twenty of the minutes that are divided up of the hour.’

And this gave me pause to spake again unto her, ‘What of the vehicular receptacle for the blessing of those with wearee feet that the heathen doth caul The Taxi?’

And with great patience and wis-domme she acquiesced to avail herselfe once again to thy education and departe even moore of her in-sight that is wise in the way of the worlde. ‘The heathen that doth partake of the evil spirite and speweth up in amounts copius lay in wait for the unwary. And the blessing of the sacred Taxi is corrupted bye the girl with the shortest of skirte and heaving of bosom. Nay, the true way lieth along the path of least resistance. ’

I looked up into her eternal light and spake once more. ‘Dinner at your mother’s?’

And she looked upon me with understanding and benevolence and bade me repeat after her, ‘And you will enjoy yourself. Won’t you!’

Amen.

Enough of that. So then end of another year, another page has turned, one more notch in the belt and so on. Just another day really if you stop and think about it. But that doesn’t stop millions of people ruing the fact that they did nothing for the last 365 days. Or stop them measuring themselves against various artificial milestones from the pages of magazines and online publications all loudly proclaiming of the 1001 things you should have done during the year. It’s just another day.

But those days do add up. You suddenly look at them all and realise it’s not another day, month, year, but a decade. Two. And in my case coming up to four of them. I’ve got some ways to go yet, but the spectre of the big 4-0 isn’t that far away. What have I done this year? What have I done in all of my years? Just thinking about the answers makes me twitch.

I have always thought that any New Year’s resolution worth keeping ought to be worth pursuing as soon as it becomes important. Otherwise a resolution is just a personal wager with yourself about how long it will take you to break it. My attempts have always been the latter. There are no New Year’s resolutions this year. No need. There are realities instead. Things that have to change. Things that have to happen.

What was 2006 to me? The debauchery and hedonism of the early months quickly gave way to a placid decadence in the light of our big news early in the year. The decadence continued with nary a flutter towards some gesture of organisation and preparation for the eventual arrival of our still as yet un-arrived third member of our family unit. Projects faltered and flared and continued to a point where they were within tantalising fingertip reach across the borders of our imagination. There they wait still, our unpolished and uncut gems.

A year of waiting and seeing, of watching and growing, and accepting what will be. A year of patience. A year of preparation in all things, beyond just the glaringly obvious. What have we learned? Where have we grown? Have we? Indeed. We have.

I am a better person for this year. I have learned, failed and learned again. Failures pupate and mature, ready to emerge anew in the coming months, bright and dazzling. A year in coming will be doubled thanks to the labours of that spent. A happy new year it will be. Or else.

All the best and Happy New Year.

Another dull Christmas message

2006-12-25T01:23:00.000+01:00

I could hear a voice, a nagging doubt in the back of my head, getting louder and louder; DON’T GET ON THE SCALES. Why did I not listen? I staggered back, stunned by the display. The numbers hovered and shimmered within the clear plastic LCD before winking out having done their damnable worst. It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t. I tried again. The scales laughed and lied a second time.

What on earth possessed me to try to find out such a pointless number before a whole week of sugary and savoury over indulgence? It isn’t as if I can do anything about it now and I am certainly not going to abstain from the calorie bomb that we call Christmas.
So why? I find myself wondering when was the last time I stuck myself with a needle or stuck my hand over a flame. It amounts to the same thing. So now I must work doubly hard to forget this undesired transgression and prepare myself mentally and physically for the Fattening. My cookie count is at 4 already and I’ve only been at Leni’s mother’s for 30 minutes.

The first beer is already helping me forget, so leaving behind the misery of numbers let me wish you a happy Christmas.

It feels like it’s been Christmas since October. The shops at Halloween were stocking Christmas candy and by early November everywhere was decorated with tinsel and a million different types of Santa. Of course, Norway has to be different. They have Jule. They don’t have Santa they have Nissa, or something like that. He looks the same, he brings you gifts if you’ve been good, and the only real difference is that he doesn’t seem to drink Coke.

Our chances of a white Christmas have gone south thanks to global warming. Skiing is ruined all over the place, the snowy mountains are still bare, the crisp white blanket of snow is a two inch deep puddle of water covered with dead leaves. There isn’t even any ice here. Well, I suppose I can be thankful for something. Actually thinking back on the freezing wet snow soaked jeans, the insanely cold mornings, and the snow turning to life endangering ice, I can wave a cheery farewell to all picture perfect postcard white Christmases. Snow is good for skiing, and tipping down the neck of cute girls. Nothing else.

So goodbye 2006. What did you mean to me? The year started with my old nemesis, tons of lethal ice and black snow (the wonderful stuff that accumulates by the side of the road and takes most of spring to melt). My hedonistic lifestyle continued unabated as the parties of Christmas and New Year’s seemed to blend in with the New Year and everything was still all laughter, smiles and alcohol, flirting, memory loss and… You can appreciate the problem.

A trip to England to see friends, a photographic project started and still unfinished, more work on a book, sigh, still unfinished, return to more parties and then…

Down to earth. With a bump. Literally.

The colour blue in along plastic stick told us that it was time to start thinking about growing up. While the writing was on the wall for our years long holiday in Never-Never Land, I was sure we could find as suitable a place without having to turn tail and skulk back into the blighted limbo of the real world.

At first we thought everything would change. Everybody we asked said it would. Everything we read said it would too. We decided to greet the news with a holiday with friends in Spain. Minus the alcohol of course. That should have been a dead give-away to everybody, but only one person actually figured out what a woman suddenly giving up smoking and alcohol seemed to mean.

Leni started to grow in the way that pregnant women do. Eventually we got an early viewing of things to come courtesy of an ultrasound examination, and then things settled back into their old routine, minus the alcohol. Yeah, me too.

Plans made the previous year were scuppered and instead we began to start thinking about all the things we were gong to have to do and change to accommodate Spawn. And so began the time of buying and gathering. The nesting instinct grew and grew, and slowly our home began to resemble just that, a nest; crowded, messy and with only enough room for a couple of small birds. So we decided it was also time to move.

I have wondered why I have left it so late in life, relatively anyway, to become a father. Certainly ex girlfriends along the way have expressed a desire every now and again to have children, but I either didn’t realise the seriousness of the spoken desire or I did realise the gravity of the situation. In both cases then wasn’t the right time. So why now?

There is no right time. But finally I, we, realised it isn’t the wrong time either.

If I had to sum up the year it would be like a pleasurable row along a picturesque river in the late afternoon, sipping a Gin and Tonic all the while drifting inexorably towards a thunderous waterfall that probably has the name Sophie or Emily.

I know I should have done more, but I enjoyed the not doing equally as much :)

I’m sure I had more to write but food is ready and the Fattening is about to begin.

Merry Christmas.

Halloween

2006-11-02T00:53:00.000+01:00

Halloween was a quieter and soberer affair this year that it has been for a while, thanks mostly to the guest within. The decision of ‘not too much effort’ changed dramatically at the last minute and with barely minutes to go before we ought to be leaving I was shaved and dyed, Leni was made up and painted (the t-shirt at least), and masks were donned (Paris Hilton and Kim Jong-Il). And then removed. Rain and paper masks do not mix.

Being there was dramatically laid back and the costumes of most people were up to a standard that left our last minute efforts standing in the dust. Many eyes were of course on the two pregnant women of the evening; the host’s partner and my own companion. The hostess was large, heavy and quite a bit more pregnant that Leni. Leni’s bump was mostly contained and made part of the pumpkin t-shirt design. However, a sober and enjoyable night was had by all.

It strikes me that this is how it is going to be from now on. Every decision we make will revolve around our child. Going to a restaurant, seeing friends, a day trip, holidays, Everything. They already do of course.

Lists

2006-10-19T21:58:00.000+01:00

Ten things I ought to be thinking about

1. Baby lists – Getting lists ready for all those people who want to buy us presents… uh, I mean buy the baby presents.
2. Our own lists - stuff we REALLY need to have bought and ready before the alien arrives bursts free.
3...

Do I really need another list? Crib/bed, stroller, baby bath and changing point, towels, bedding, clothes, bottles, toys. That’s it really. What other people want to get they can just ask nearer the time.

But what do I need to do? At a midwife appointment recently I listened dutifully, and there are things Leni needs to remember, but me... There was a section in a book that was all for me. It was 30 pages of common sense, which thankfully I am blessed with already. We’ve already thought of names, the issue of sex is not an issue, I am being as supportive as a marble column, and I am aware of every change that my partner is going through and am being as understanding as it is humanly possible to be.

So just what else is it that I should be doing? There has to be something missing. This can’t be it, can it?

Dreams

2006-10-13T20:47:00.000+01:00

It never occurred to me that pregnancy could be so ordinary. From the woman’s perspective I am sure things are vastly different, but from the man’s all we really see is the bump getting bigger and the odd mood swing. Sure there are magazines, books, people and a million on-line sites telling you loads of things that you should and ought to be doing to help prepare for the new arrival, but frankly they are all fluff designed to make the father feel involved. I don’t need fluff, but what does that leave me with? Dreams.

The dreams have been coming thick and fast of late. Leni’s getting up a dozen times a night helps me remember them whereas normally by the second coffee of the day I am wondering whether that monologue I was delivering to the assembled elephants was really as profound as I thought or just the word ‘doom’ over and over. They must have something to do with the imminent upheaval hurtling this way, what though I have no idea. Perhaps you can shed some light on them?

Dream 1 – I was in the house I used to live in Weybridge; sat on the toilet in an area of the hallway where it widens before leading to the kitchen (the real house never actually had that, but everything about it had the same feel to it.) A middle-aged woman with medium length blond hair walks past, and finds it funny that I am where I am, exposed, doing what I am doing. She is wearing a robe loosely so that her breasts are on view. She is mostly upset that I am not interested in her and storms off in something approaching a temper, wrapping the robe tightly around her.

Now that she’s gone I’m finished and walking down through the house looking for other people. The place seems to be huge, far bigger than possible, and eventually we (now I am with other people) find a basement with three large containers of water, like troughs, being used as swimming pools. People are swimming and as far as I remember we simply leave or it drifted into something else.

Dream 2 – We, Leni and I and probably other people from my present and past, were at a hotel complex with various swimming pools (is this coincidence?) ; some were at lower levels where they joined with the rocky exterior, others were dotted throughout the complex, always outdoor. We finally arrived at the rooftop pool where we sat around and enjoyed the delights. A huge tidal surge can be seen like a bulge in the water heading towards us. It hits the hotel, rising up into it more than actually hitting it, but still the hotel is shaken badly. Much of the front is damaged, and the structure is leaning slightly towards the front but is otherwise still standing. Everything inside the hotel has been washed away and only those at the top escaped unscathed.

This morning I was left only with the fleeting memory of keeping small declawed badgers as pets. They were remarkably cute in the dream, while I know they are untameable and vicious in real life.

Portents and omens?

Clothes

2006-09-28T20:07:00.000+01:00

Leni has been ’showing’ for a while and finally got to that stage where nothing she has fits her any more. Obviously a great excuse for a shopping trip, but it does feel awful buying clothes that you know are only going to fit for six months at the most. However, needs drive us and to the shops we went.

There must be thousands of women who are pregnant at any one time. So why do the shops stock, for the most part, complete and utter rubbish monstrosities as far as maternity clothes go? While things have certainly progressed a long way from the floral sack one-size-fits-all dresses, they haven’t gone all that far. Garish colours, obscene cuts, clothing that might be at home on a men’s darts team from the 1970’s even, but pretty they are not. There are some shops that have some clothes. There are even the odd pieces of clothing that are not that bad. Not that good, but not that bad.

It seems the world hardly cares about how a woman looks when she is pregnant. Why? Because she doesn’t have to look great? Because she’s already done what all the dressing up and chasing around is ultimately for? It boggles the mind. If ever there was a time when a woman wanted the support and feel good sensation of simply looking great in the clothes she wears it is when she’s pregnant.

Names

2006-09-25T04:22:00.000+01:00

My heart is broken. My three favourite names have been vetoed by Leni.

Good bye Bubblepop.
Farewell Giggleboo.
So long Schmoo. *sob*

What's in a name?

2006-09-14T01:32:00.000+01:00

I’m sure that everybody has thought about names for potential future children. If you are playing the name game with a partner you might even get a glimpse of the potential troubles ahead. When the real thing comes along all bets are suddenly off. Those early compromises and understanding indulgences give way to iron clad determination and bloody mindedness.

Choosing your child’s name is one of the most important and far reaching decisions you will ever make on behalf of your child. And it will cause the harshest of words between you and your partner, your parents, your partner’s parents, both of your entire extended families and their dogs.

Here’s my helpful advice to stop family feuds and find a smooth and gentle path to naming your child.

1. Find out the sex. This will instantly remove fifty percent of the arguments.
2. Each partner has absolute veto over any name. This avoids masses of messy arguments and being bullied, badgered and bribed into a name you come to hate and despise.
3. No family names. If you really love that family member so much then commission a portrait. Naming them after a family member risks your child becoming the focus of years of family feuding and growing up to hate you and your family.
4. Do not be a team player. No naming the kid after a sports team or musical band. Involving your child in your fanaticism and idolatry will earn you a place in hell.
5. Do not try to be unique. That cool and clever name that you think is brilliant and original will pave the way to 18 years of teasing and bullying and a life time of therapy. Remember ‘Apple’ is the name of a fruit, not a child.
6. The Internet is your friend. Still fixated on that really cool sounding name? check it out via a search engine. You might just be surprised.
’I still think Bukkake Jones is a nice name.’
7. Put yourself in their shoes. Try giving you or your partner the name you want to give to your child. Try it out, give it some mileage. Ask other people to call you by that name too. Does it suck yet? Then maybe, just maybe it isn’t that bad.

By far the biggest problem when trying to choose a name is name association. While lots of common names are fine in theory, it only takes one bad memory associated with a name to render it unusable; a bully at school, a friend’s betrayal, an awkward and embarrassing colleague, the name of that backstabbing evil bitch or bastard of an ex and so on.

An added complication for us is finding a name that we both like and that sounds nice in both English and Norwegian. So far we have only two; Sophia and Helle. Ok, ok, Leni insists it would be Sophie in Norwegian, but we are close to working out a deal on the e and a. Helle is nice but my sister instantly said ‘Oh, like what Cartman is always saying in South Park? That’s Hella cool!’ Bugger.

Personally I rather like Bubblepop. It just sounds great. Bubblepop. Wonderful name….

I know, I know , bad parent. Bad!

Second Contact

2006-09-04T16:33:00.000+01:00

In bed last night my partner suddenly grabs my hand and leads it hungrily down her body, leaving me thinking, ‘My we’re eager.’ Alas no. Our hands stop over her belly and mine is placed flat against it, and in a moment there it is; the baby kicks. It isn’t much, just a tiny tap. To Leni it feels like bubbles popping inside of her.

I am under whelmed. I might blame the tiredness but I know what it really is; the ultrasound. During the examination she was practically dancing for us. And wow, what a mover. Still, it is a good sign and she’ll only get more active as time progresses.

I wonder why babies move so much? I suppose being cooped up in a dark, confined space is enough to drive anybody nuts. It’s a wonder we aren’t all born claustrophobic. I am told that babies can hear things from the outside while still in the womb, and distinguish different sounds, perhaps even different voices. I wonder how I sound to my daughter. I wonder if my snoring bugs her as much as it does Leni.

Our daughter

2006-08-31T15:43:00.000+01:00

The rest of the ultrasound pictures
Originally uploaded by An English Idiot.

First Contact

2006-08-26T03:25:00.000+01:00

Friday the 25th of August and it's finally time to head off to the hospital for our ultrasound examination appointment. I have to admit that I had hoped to have some feeling of anticipation, excitement or something positive towards this milestone in the pregnancy. Instead I am eerily calm and the word ‘trepidation’ enters my head. I still have not told anybody beyond immediate family (and one very dear friend who has recently given birth to a daughter, and on my birthday no less!). The reason for my reticence is simple; I want to be sure.

I have not played ‘what-if’, I haven’t thought about a single bad thing that could possibly happen to our child in the womb, and in hind-sight it helped me keep a vital distance until we can be sure that everything is ok. My friends have had their share of tragedies and I feel for them, more now than ever before. But if it strikes us, I have left enough distance that I will be able to help my partner rather than drag us both down even further. Call it cowardice if you wish, I wrap it in ‘practical’. Enough of this, the news is all good.

Leni was most excited, if that is the right word. Finally, she, we, would see just what is growing inside of her. Arriving at the correct building we sit down in a corridor to wait alongside all the other parents-to-be. Our name called, we enter a small room with three chairs and a ‘bed’. I sit beside the bed, looking at the screen above it, and the one the midwife will use. Leni gets ready and lays down. The screen flickers to life.

My first surprise is the nature of the exam itself; I never realised it gave you slices of what it is pointed at. The images flashing onto the screen as the midwife oriented herself to the position of our baby would not be out of place on the most futuristic far flung alien science fiction. And then slowly we begin to learn a little more about our child.

In the opening miasma of images we had already seen the fine bright white lines of bones and fleeting glimpses of what were clearly body parts. Now the midwife takes her time and shows us everything, piece by piece, inside and out. All of the limbs are present and correct, all the digits accounted for, the fine lattice-like links of the spine well formed and complete. The heart and all its chambers beat healthily; the head is the right shape and contains two hemispheres of brain; the skull, chest, abdomen, hip and thigh bone are all measured and noted; all fine. And as we travel around Leni’s womb the slice of ultrasound catches her face. It may not sound much; a black and white oval of a head, empty eye sockets, a hole for her nose and a white jaw line, but finally it hits me - I am looking at our daughter.

…Our daughter.

The tour continues through her organs, again all present and correct. I also discover that what I first mistook for the jerks and movements of the ultrasound device are actually the movements of our child. For some reason I had always assumed that babies were rather sedentary in the womb until the latter stages of pregnancy but this baby was bobbing and weaving like a boxer.

The tour over and our questions answered, we were given a series of pictures of the more meaningful images from the examination, including one where the heart actually looks heart shaped. The relatives will love it.

And of course we asked; obviously from the above. It becomes a she. I had no preference. How do feel? Wonderful! The heartbeat may have sounded like a waterlogged boot but looking into the face of our daughter was beyond words.

Finally I can completely embrace this. This moment was more than just real; it was a relief. Now it’s time to tell the rest of my world.

Future message to child

2006-07-19T00:13:00.000+01:00

While this will all be rather nostalgic for your mother and me, you may find it illuminating and undoubtedly awfully embarrassing, especially the bits about our sex life. Yes, I’m sorry to have to break it to you this way but your parents had sex. At least once. In fact those muffled moans and bangings you’ve heard some evenings and at night may well be us in our twilight years doing our best to embarrass you ever further by making you think the unthinkable. We do not apologise.

Pros and cons: Procreation and contraception

2006-07-18T23:50:00.000+01:00

There will come a time when the woman in your life (or just your bed) will stop (or may never have been on) her preferred method of birth control and for want of a better reason so have you. It may be planned. It may be an accident. You both may have thought the other was the responsible one. Or you may have both thought ‘oh we’ll be careful if it comes to that’.

And I wonder how many people are in a position to know with absolute certainty the day, the occasion, the event and even the very moment it was that led to the pregnancy? And how good it was?

And it was. Being a little drunk, forgetting that the condoms were elsewhere, thinking we’ll deal with that in time, and when the time comes, legs wrap, limbs tighten and nobody lets go. You may not have been planned, but you are no accident.

Meeting the Parents (II)

2006-07-14T00:31:00.000+01:00

There are two times in a relationship that you will have to meet your partner’s parents. The first time is in the blossoming of your relationship where you stand under the combined glare of her parents. You stagger beneath the onslaught of question after question and bravely face a barrage of social niceties all masking the one and only question they really want answered; ‘Are you having sex with our daughter?’

The second meeting answers it.

It doesn’t matter how old you are, how long you have been together, or what your station is in life. When your partner’s folks turn up after ‘that’ phone call, you can see the answer written all over their faces. They know. They know you know. They know that you know that they know. They greet you. They smile. They wait.

There we are. Confess. Me, a 36 year old man in a four and a half year relationship. Confess. All present are in fact responsible adults. Confess! And all I want to do is CONFESS!

“YES!!! I had sex with your daughter!”
There. Happy? Perhaps we can move on now? Thank you.

What NEXT?

2006-07-13T05:31:00.000+01:00

The ‘what next?’ question is a big one. If you have been planning for a baby and trying to get pregnant then the shock at this point probably veers off towards excitement. For everybody else the shockwave is bouncing around inside, growing exponentially and probing, none too gently, your fear centres especially those concerned with the end of the world being nigh. Suddenly you feel isolated, alone, with all the weight of the world on your shoulders. In all probability the mother-to-be may become very silent, emotional, cry… hysterically, shout, hit things (especially you) and generally panic.

This is normal.

What your partner needs now is to talk with someone. Someone who understands what she is going through. This is not you; you caused this. This is no time to spout advice learned from books, magazines or the Internet. No, she needs someone who has been through this before. She needs her mother.

Hopefully common sense will have led you to give your partner the phone, some kind and understanding words and then lots of space. You are not part of this conversation. In fact until the phone call is over and some semblance of normality is restored, you are part of the problem. Now is a very good time to step back and take stock of your own situation.

The first thing to realise is that your partner is a boiling pot of hormones and mixed emotions that can explode or collapse at a moments notice. Your sense of humour will generate hostility; your help will release tears. Many of her reactions will simply not make sense. If ever you should think twice about what you say now is the time, and realise that your jokes are really just poorly dressed puns, sarcasm and farce and are above all not very funny.

And woe betide the fool who utters a cross word.

The second thing is to understand (and here English falls behind languages that have the plural form of your) that this is YOUR (plural) pregnancy. Both of you are going to have a child. You get involved NOW.

…or at least when the phone call to her mother is finished.

So, wondering what they are talking about? All matters practical. Your partner needs some solid ground to stand on and her mother obviously didn’t do too bad a job of things where better to start. After the initial congratulations comes the advice;

• Make an appointment to see a doctor
• No more alcohol
• No more smoking
• No more medications until they are given the all clear by your doctor
• Get some vitamin supplements for expectant mothers
• Lots of folic acid in the early days
• Hell, just quit the pizza and eat real food
• Get details for and contact a midwife
• Try to start getting into a good routine. You only have 7-8 months to change your lifestyle and habits to incorporate a new life. This time will vanish before you know it

There will be more advice but for now that’s the important stuff. Her mother is probably also making sure to tell her to take no slacking off from you and to be sure to kick you into shape as well. Somewhere in the back of her mind will also be the question, ‘Is he good enough for my daughter?’ Again, this is normal.

The phone call ends. Your partner breathes deeply; a sigh of relief. Her feet have found some practical purchase in your (plural) new reality. And she lets you know her folks are coming over tomorrow.

What now?

2006-07-11T01:55:00.000+01:00

This is such a heavily loaded and hard question to both ask and answer that I had to leave it some days before being able to write about it. If you have been trying to conceive then the question is moot. It becomes a far less ominous, ‘what next?’ It doesn’t sound all that different? They are. Worlds apart. For the unplanned pregnancy it can be a moment that changes lots of lives; ‘What now?’ is literally a matter of life and death.

It’s not something that I could answer at the time, certainly not something that could be answered in so few words either, and in hindsight I think the first words out of my mouth were probably the clumsiest and most horrible words I have ever spoken. They did ask the first and most important question that needs to be asked. No. Not, ‘is it mine?’

“Do we want to keep it?”

There may have been other words around these, I don’t remember and they aren’t important. All they would have been there for would have been to hide or stumble over before I voiced those dreadful words. All of the ‘what-if’s of when or if to have a child, those silly baby name conversations, every ‘I would like my child to be…’ suddenly vanish. If becomes is. It is.

My partner looks at me and quickly puts me right. It is and it will be.

Later that day there a program deals with the topic of abortion. Despite the day’s news we both find we still support a woman’s right to abortion. For us, we realise that if our lifestyle at the moment isn’t a good time to have a child, then we’ll never find a ‘perfect time’ to have one. It may be a bit early, it may hit a few of our plans, but then the unexpected always was exciting.

Oh, and my position? I am very happy. I also don’t have a clue what I want, but I know I don’t want to get rid of it. I am still thoroughly stunned and the reality of it all escapes me, but somewhere in here is a happy father-to-be.

And ‘what if’ either of us had decided against having a child now? There is no what if any more remember, only what is.

So here I am, later, writing this. I still feel dirty for having asked that question. Many times on TV, in movies, talk shows, and documentaries I’ve heard the reply to ‘I’m pregnant’ of ‘do you/we want to keep it?’ as tactless, cruel, unthinking and unfeeling. It is all of those, but I can add ‘necessary’ to that list too. I know it wasn’t the first thing out of my mouth, but it will be the thing I remember most vividly for the rest of my life.

Now we can ask, ‘What next?’

But first...

2006-07-03T01:21:00.000+01:00

And here for posterity, the very first thought that entered my head.

‘Yes, my sperm works!’

Surprise

2006-07-02T13:09:00.000+01:00

Sometimes you know, you just know. Whether it is something in the wind, the water, the way the birds sing in the morning, or the crickets and cicadas chirp in the evening, or simply the raging PMS in your partner that just will not go away, there is always a sign. Some men are sensitive to such signs, others will have to wait until they are hit by the hammer of truth; the pregnancy test.

Regardless of your fears, sooner or later you will both need to learn the truth. This truth comes in the shape of a small vertical blue line in a small clear plastic window. But both of you ‘know’ already. The pregnancy test is really just the final knock on the door of reality, your last chance to be right or wrong about everything.

If a couple (I include married, partners, girlfriend and boyfriend in coupledom) are trying for a child this moment of revelation will be a moment of pure joy. For the rest of us it will be a jaw dropping moment of incredulous reality and heart stopping shock. This is not to say that the unexpected news is unwelcome, but just that, unexpected.

The moment is both exciting and frightening. You read the instructions together over and over so that there is absolutely no way you can make a mistake in the reading of the result. You read it again, make coffee, and do several other things purely to postpone the inevitable. You are both understandably nervous. And no doubt you both have your own private hopes and wishes. Then finally your better half goes into the bathroom and takes the test.

According to the instructions you should allow several minutes for the results to appear. The enclosed instructions also provide three pictures with varying degrees of results and goes on to explain that though each blue line varies in clarity, each of them is a positive result. And then goes on to say a lot about the reliability of the test in light of a negative result.

My partner returns from the bathroom. Silence. The blue line that can take several minutes to appear is a big fat blue line. All this in less than thirty seconds. We hug. Tightly.

What now?