Category: journal

The cord stump fell off today. Hurray, ‘cos it was getting a bit smelly… 🙁

Neve Eleanor Hooper was born at 06:40 on Friday, May 8th, 2009. Flora Day, as any Cornlanders among you might know; which led to musings that we should perhaps call her Furry (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Furry_Dance if this is making no sense to you) and that we could add to that Lola’s preferred name for her sister to make Crunchy Furry Hooper. In the end, though, we went with the slightly more elegant Neve Eleanor, leaving the other for private amusement.

We weren’t expecting Neve until the following Wednesday, so, when Isa’s waters broke at 03:30 on Friday, there was a strong temptation to ignore it and go back to sleep. And the lack of contractions for the first quarter of an hour did nothing to discourage that feeling. It was not to be ignored though and by 04:00, after Isa had relocated to the bathroom, contractions were coming at three-minute intervals. As with Lola, there was no nice slow ramping up; it went from nothing to full-on in the space of minutes.

Which is a problem when you need to get into hospital, as we did (because the breech presentation disallowed the home birth we had been hoping for). Apparently, it’s not easy to jump in the car when you’re about to give birth and, by the time our friend Pien had arrived to babysit Lola (and offer advice distilled from years of experience), Isa was not fit to travel that way and we had to call an ambulance. Getting into that was no pic-nic either, with disabling contractions coming every 90 seconds, but we made it eventually and trundled into hospital with the driver trying to find a route which wasn’t full of traffic-calming bumps.

I’d love to say that once we reached the hospital we were calmed by the welcome and reassuring confidence of the delivery team; unfortunately, this was not the case. Instead, we got nervous faces and an authoritarian registrar who came across closer to hostile than friendly. The first thing she said was that she had to tell us that the safest way to deliver this baby was by caesarean section and she pretty much led the entire operation in that direction from then on, throwing in a little condescension to add flavour along the way. It ended up with a kind of ultimatum: “either you lie on your back with your legs up (in stirrups) and push, or you have a caesarean — but that baby needs to come out now!” (The baby was exhibiting bradycardia and this was worrying the delivery team). Well, our fairly wide reading suggested a breech is best delivered standing or on all fours and that pushing should be held back until unavoidable — exactly the opposite of what was being offered here. “That’s not how we do it at this hospital,” said the registrar — but the consultant had told Isa that that mode of delivery was entirely possible at this hospital.

So, Isa opted for the c-section and was asleep when I watched them carry the newborn Neve across the delivery room. She coughed and I burst into tears. Ten minutes later, after administering heat and oxygen and removing some of the gunk from her lungs, I was allowed in and could hold her.

I continued to hold her for nearly two hours before Isa started coming round from the anaesthesia and we could go into recovery to see her. Isa was very groggy and in a lot of pain and it was another two hours before she could hold Neve and feed her. And a couple more hours at least before she could begin to see her properly, as the drugs had left her vision very blurred.

Of course, by this time, Lola had been awake for hours and was very excited about the arrival of her little sister. She waited very patiently, first at our house and then at Pien’s house, until we finally gave the go-ahead at 2pm and she came with Pien to the hospital.

She was delighted with baby sister, falling immediately for her tiny gorgeousness, but concerned about the various tubes that were connected to Isa. We explained how Mummy’s belly had been cut open to help baby get out and how the various tubes and other equipment were all there to help her get better and Lola accepted that, though she returned frequently to the issue during that day and the subsequent two days while Isa remained in hospital. The following week, Lola spent a lot of time being a doctor at home and getting Mum to lie down while she used her various (imaginary) doctor’s things on her.

Lola and Pien stayed for a couple of hours, during which I wandered off to get some food, having not eaten since the previous evening. Then, sometime after 5pm, Pien, Lola and I went home leaving Isa to spend the night in the recovery ward with a sleepless baby. Sometime the next morning, the doctors decided that Isa’ bleeding was under control and she was moved up to the post-natal ward where, thankfully, she had a little room to herself.

Having fallen over in the garden: “Sometimes I fall over: I don’t know why…”

Talking of stopping wearing nappies at night: “But when I’m big, I don’t know how, why I’ve got my hands!”

On finding her piggy book behind the radiator: “It was hiding! I don’t know why it was hiding; but it was hiding.”

“But why do you not know why?”

“Why am I little? I don’t want to be little! I want to grow up today!”

“Brown is nasty for babies — they don’t like brown ice-cream.”

“I’m going to run away and you’re going to chase me! Did you know that?”
No, I didn’t.
“Oh — but I just told you!”

Regarding the toothbrush in her pyjama pocket: “Shall I keep it for my life? Maybe not.”

Of a stick she particularly liked: “I’m not going to put it down. I might hog [sic] onto it forever.”

Only three weeks or so until Lola’s sister is due. Lola is *so* excited!
We’re off to the hostable [sic] to get a scan of baby
to see if she’s head down.

.. . .

Oh, dear — she’s in a breech position. Time to get the smelly Chinese
sticks out and start crawling around on all fours.

Isa was in the bathroom today when Lolly rushed off and opened the front
(internal) door. She came back a few seconds later saying, “Look, Mummy,
the piglets have come!” and cupping the imaginary young things in her
outstretched hands. “This one is yours,” she said, then headed off to get
a blanket to wrap her one in. Later, they both went down to the park
with Isa and Lola; luckily, they were able to walk and didn’t need to be
carried.

Lolly-pie went to Bounce Club today and had a excited time playing at
the YMCA with Rosie and Isla and Eddie. Actually, I think it was called
Bubble Club; it’s baby Crunchy (as Lola insists she will be called) who
has been to Bounce Club — she’s been amazing us (and causing a little
internal ouchiness for Isa) with her in-womb shape-throwing. She much
more lively than Lola was — obviously keen to get out and join in the
fun. Lola’s excitement must, I’m sure, make it through the fleshy
wall…

“OK, I sleep now and then maybe one, two three birds come flying up the
night and in the morning the ragwing[sic] comes. And maybe you come in
up to my bed and call Lola! Lola! LOLA! Then I get out and put my
clothes on and my BIG crocs and go out in the garden and see the ragwing
and say ‘hello, ragwing, what you doing? are you eating worms?’ and he
says Yes! I am!. And what now? I need to sleep now and today morning the
ragwing comes and [repeat ad infinitum]”

I wish I’d recorded it; it’s lost something in the transcription. And I
did spy a redwing in the garden this morning. Très joli.

We are all struck down with it — it hit Lola on Tuesday, Isa by
Thursday and me on Friday. Lola and I have both hit forty degrees (104F)
of fever; Isa tends to measure hers less often but has seen 38.5. Aches,
coughs, and Isa had an awful night of ‘acid snot’ during which she was
obliged to prop herself up at an angle of about 39 degrees all night
just in order to limit the awful pain of breathing.

Whether or not Little Eric (who actually is now known as Neve, given
that we know she is a girl) also has it . . .

Oh, had I not mentioned here that Isa is pregnant again!? 23 weeks: due
in May. I did wonder about starting her own blog but then thought, no —
they’re going to have to learn to share! 🙂 Ah, how easily we fall
into the cliches of parenting; especially when they pander to our own
inate laziness.

Anyway, what’s Lola doing and saying at the moment?, I hear you ask.
Well, she’s well into her puzzles — I must have done the dolls house
one ten times in the last three days, and Isa the same. “Come on! Do the
puzzles with me!” “Read me a book, Mummy!”

“What are we doing now?”

“Well, we’re going to have some dinner.”

“Oh, and then?”

“Maybe we’ll play a game.”

“Oh — and then?”

[repeat ad nauseum]

Just back from two and a half weeks in Italy. Lola excited to be back
and has taken out and rediscovered every single toy in the house.

“Are you want some more Daddy?”
“No: I not *like* it!” (Said in an informational tone.)
“Look at my bellik!”
“Just one more! Go on, Daddy”
“What are the work people saying?”
“The wolf is coming!”

I’m so sorry I’m not blogging at the moment, because Lola is such good
fun and so loving and happy these days. Interested in everything,
sensible and accepting of ‘reality’ when it intervens. She runs around the house singing and jumping, “De dooo, de deee, de dummm.” We spend a lot of time singing nursery rhymes.