Happy new year

We're having people over for New Year's Eve tonight. None of them know about the pregnancy, so I'm going through the house trying to find all the baby books and whatnot.

Information overload

I've been slowly making my way through the reams of information they gave us at our first antenatal appointment. In six different places they describe what to expect on your first antenatal appointment. I was unable to find any of that online beforehand… there's some kind of irony in that somewhere. Not sure where, but the end result is that now we know what to expect from here on out — which is a good thing.

In a few of the booklets there are lists of everything which can go wrong with the pregnancy. I understand why it's there, but it is rather disconcerting. I find myself thinking, "well, what would I do?" to each of the various things that can go wrong. I also find myself getting paranoid about things that I can control. "Is there too much vitamin A in dinner? We had spinach last night, can I put a carrot in dinner tonight? Is there too much A in garden peas?. I even asked the midwife about it, and she told me not to worry as long as I don't cook liver, but somehow that hasn't set my mind at ease.

There's a thing called a Bounty Bag, which, as far as I can tell, is targeted advertising with information mostly cut-and-pasted from the NHS documents. Okay, I do it a disservice, since there is actually new material in there, but the majority of information is redundant. Which means in the 300 pages of documents, I probably only have to read like 50 pages of content — but I've no idea which 50 pages. Reading randomly seems to satisfy the engineer in me. I find things like Avoid sheep! which would have never occurred to me to do (mostly from the lack of live sheep in London), but I'm certainly going to do now.

Which most of the material seems reasonably professionally put together, I find much of it leaves out any mention of partners. One mothering magazine I read in the waiting room only mentioned men once in an article on postnatal nookie. I was hoping the article on going back to work, which claimed to give every possible option, would mention options for how to share the childcare load between two people. Not a mention — it was all about either staying at home, or working and getting full time childcare.

Most of the Bounty Bag material is the same, with little mention of men, and almost all photos just mums with babies — which is who they are trying to sell too, so I should not be surprised. The NHS material does a better, more complete job of it, which I appreciate. But, to be honest, what I'd like is a Useful Things a Partner Can Do During Gestation booklet. I suspect that's not going to be coming my way anytime soon. Though any advice in the comments on this blog would be appreciated.

The first antenatal appointment

We had our first antenatal appointment at UCH on Thursday.

First of all, the EGA wing at UCH has like fifty different maternity and baby-related departments, so even if you know what floor you're going to, that doesn't really help. Finding the right building was easy, especially since I went to UCL next door and have been up and down Gower Place hundreds of times (though that was before the renovations). But finding the right room... I guess they don't realise that to someone not used to the whole having children thing, that every single department is a synonym for pregnant, child, or mother (maternity, fetal, antenatal, etc).

We found the right room after a small diversion in the ultrasound waiting room.

About 1/4 of the women there were accompanied by men. I definitely plan to go with the wife to all her appointments. It's not that I don't trust her, I just want to know what’s going on with my offspring and what we should expect.

I also know how easy it is to get swept up in things and never get a chance to ask those burning questions which have slipped your mind. With two of you, there's more of a chance to not miss anything. It's like when one of us sees a spider – the one who sees the spider freaks out, and the other one mumbles "Oh, FFS" and just deals with it. It doesn't matter who sees the spider first. I guess it's the whole "I must protect my partner" instinct that kicks in. The same thing happens in doctors offices. The one who's being seen is intimidated by the doctor and the other one asks all the difficult questions.

They took blood and urine and a bit of a family history. Eventually they asked some questions about me, so at least I didn't feel too much like a fifth wheel. Then came the shedload of paperwork and information. I've only made it most of the way though one of the pamphlets, so I'll likely post about that later.

Apparently she needs to be seen every fortnight or so, alternating between our GP and UCH. We set up two more appointments and I suppose we have to sort out the GP ones ourselves. The next is the 12 week ultrasound which is coming up soon. I'm really looking forward to that since, so far, we have no idea if things are going well or not. I mean, the wife seems healthy and getting by just fine, but, beyond the sore bosoms, there's really no active sign anything's going on.

We're going with UCH now

The paperwork from UCH (UCLH?) arrived in the post the other day. They sent us two appointments, one for the initial "let's get the ball rolling" appointment (or at least I assume that's what it's for) in a week and another on 10 Jan for the first ultrasound. It strikes me as odd that they just say "and you show up here now" rather than "call to make an appointment for when it's good for you." Not that we couldn't just phone to fix it.

The other thing that strikes me as odd was some of the terminology. The ultrasound is described using both least-common-denominator words like "tummy" as well as precise jargon like "transducer".

The paperwork comes with the appointments, a couple of pamphlets (more on that later) , plus two forms to fill in if you want to do any studies. The scientist in me is fascinated. Yes please. I want to enrich human knowledge. I've always wondered things like where they get people for tests like this, or, for that matter, newborns for TV shows and movies.

I mean, you've got a really small window for when they look like a newborn. And births don't lend themselves to planning well. I can just picture planning the shooting schedule for a season:

"Ok, we need a newborn for next October for the birth show. We're shooting on the 11^th. Can you find six women due just before then? Whoever's got the most attractive kid by the 8^th we'll hire. "

Scientific studies I suppose are harder:

"I've got a theory that we can detect Foobars Syndrome as early as 7 weeks!"

"Great. Now we just need to find someone freshly knocked-up and knows it and has a GP aware and willing to pass on your study and can get referred to us in time."

"You're right. Maybe I should ask for volunteers in the department."

She likes angostura bitters

When we go to the pub she orders angostura bitters and tonic. The glass looks like it's got any anonymous spirit, and doesn't raise any eyebrows or questions. Except from the barstaff. Apparently, when you’re in a pub (especially a festively unquiet one) and ask for angostura bitters you get a very blank look, particularly when the barstaff is not native English-speaking.

Last night I went to the bar to get us both drinks. I got a gin and tonic for me, and, for her, an angostura bitter and tonic. It went something like this:

Me: A Gin and Tonic, and an angostura bitters and tonic.

Barman: (With an eastern European accent) Ok. (goes about pouring the G&T)

At this point I’m relieved and think it'll be easy.

Barman: What was the other drink?

Me: Angostura bitters and tonic.

Barman: (points to a beer tap) Bitter with tonic?

Me: No angostura bitters

Barman: What?

Me: (furiously scans behind the bar for a bottle of angostura bitters) ummm…. (more awkward silence). There! (points to the pepper shakers below the rack of spirits) behind the pepper. Angostura bitters.

Barman: Um. (more awkward silence while he just looks at me and and the beer taps. Specifically does not look behind the pepper shakers)

Barman: Um. (goes and gets manager)

Me: Can I have an angostura bitters and tonic.

Manager: Ok. (pours a tonic and adds a few drops of angostura bitters)

Sigh. My hardcoded be-nice-to-woman-carrying-my-child can only take me so far. She needs to find another non-alcoholic drink of choice.

New rules for cleaning house

We agreed that I will take over all cleaning that involves chemicals. That's reasonable and makes sense. She will take over cleaning that doesn't involve chemicals. Which means I now have to clean the oven after years of getting away with not having to do so. She gets to take over... actually we didn't really clarify what tasks I give to her. Well, at least she agreed to empty the Dyson when it fills up.

In a separate note, we're going to gigs while we still can. Two this week. One a week ago. Fortunately, with the chaos of the gig, it's easy to get by without drinking, especially if I don't drink either. It's odd and awkward having to keep it a secret, since it is really interesting news. But I understand why, so I'll keep it quiet til the end of the year.

Picking a hospital

So the Whittington does a Maternity Ward tour on Saturdays at 3. We braved the cold to have a look. Turns out they do some Saturdays, and randomly cancel when they're too busy. Would have been nice if the website said that. Oh well. To cut a pocket-sized story short, we've decided on UCH. Now to start the referral process...

And now she's ill

So now she has a bit of a cough. Not surprising given how cold it's gotten. They say it'll even snow this weekend, but I really doubt that.

Her illness seems quite minor, just a bit of coughing and stuffiness. But she has to experience it all without any meds. Definitely no sudafed. Just lots of hot water with lemon. Would be honey if I could remember to get to the shops. It's just so cold, when the work day is done I just want to go home.

We've told all the parents and immediate siblings. All done over skype since they're all too far away to tell in person, and phone just seems so impersonal.
I'm not comfortable announcing at large until the new year when we're a bit sure it's taken. So this blog remains anonymous

In "that's interesting" news, I find myself being usually polite to her. Carrying things for her, putting up the kettle, that sort of thing. I'm not quite sure why. She's just a few weeks in and not a delicate flower at all -- she can leg press 2½ of me. I'm wondering if it's some hardcoded male thing: Must provide for woman carrying my spawn. I guess if I'm still taking out all the rubbish in a month, we'll have our answer.

Her superpowers have emerged

The heightened sense of smell and taste has started. She complained to me about the men in the gym last night just smelling bad. Also, I made rice noodles with dinner last night. When it came to seconds she declined the noodles saying they tasted wrong. They were a bit overcooked, but tasted like every rice noodle ever. So I’m guessing she either detected some subtle difference or rice noodles are out for the next 8 months.

No time to tell the parents last night. By the time we were done with dinner we were too knackered to deal with breaking the news. Perhaps today we’ll try

Gestation begins now

The point of this blog is to note down somewhere the process of becoming a father. I've read dozens of blogs from women detailing all the things they go through in becoming a mother, but few men I know go into anything but the most superficial details. I'm partly curious to see if it's a personal thing or something inherent in the fact that all the action happens somewhere else. So, without the squicky bits, is there anything to blog about?

I’m going to keep this anonymous for a while, mostly due to the fact we’ve not told anyone at all. Finding out you’re going to be a grandparent via a blog is a little cold, as I see it.

Now that that's out of the way...

It’s been 4 days since the test showed up positive. We’d suspected something since her period was really quite late at this point. We used a bog standard pee-on-a-stick test. When three minutes passed she told me I had to look at it. Fair enough. It was clearly positive. No ambiguity there. I just handed it to her... I wasn’t speechless. But I was surprised how much of a shock it was. I mean, it was not a surprise and nothing unexpected, but somehow it being real just was different. I somehow keep being surprised that I’m just made of meat and hormones and not just sense and logic. So when I get life-changing news I am stunned and I do babble and falter. I put on the kettle and made tea.

Of course, I don’t drink tea. But, being British it just felt the right thing to do for such a momentous event.

This was around 10 on a Friday night. We spent the next couple of hours backtracking to when she must have conceived and when she’ll be due. She estimates that she’s just shy of 5 weeks along and will be due on 23 July. We decide we won’t tell anyone til she can get to the GP and get a proper test from a proper doctor to be sure.

Saturday is spent with various friends at the pub and dinner. The only issue was making excuses for her not drinking. Easy enough to avoid. Or at least I tell myself that no one noticed me switching wine glasses with her when mine got low, then switching again, when mine was empty.

Sunday night we decide we need to sort out our diet. This is important for me to know, since I do just about all of the cooking. I’d been trying for ages to get our diet a bit more diverse, but now I really need to.
Folic acid! Lots of it. Oh the beans our diet will need. So many.
Vitamin D. That’s, ummmm…. mushrooms and sunlight. We’re fine for mushrooms, but sunlight? In England? In winter? We’ll just hope eggs, salmon and soy milk will do.
Vitamin A, but not too much. How much is too much? Is a big carrot too much? How do I go nutrient overboard and just leave out A? Then there’s the rest of the Bs. So I make pasta. With a sauce that has all the veg in the world in it. She computes that it’s shy on D but otherwise hits all the marks.

She can’t get an apt with the GP til Tuesday. She gets an early slot and calls me at work when she’s done. Yup she’s preggers. Yup, she’s 5 weeks along. Yup she’s due on the 23^rd of July. And, yeah, she still needs folic acid supplements. The cook in me is slightly offended.

Today is Wednesday and we’re planning to tell both sets of parents. I’ll post later how that goes.