Falling Sky

You've come a long way, Bagl

Predictably, 2012 was completely and utterly dominated by our wee little Bagl, to the extent that there's not really anything else to remember from the last 12 months apart from baby stuff and work (oh, and good music, which thankfully remains a constant). No films, no concerts, very few books (Penelope Leach aside), no trips away (an overnight stay at Kirkcaldy Hospital waiting for the boy to appear really doesn't count). Still, it's not every day you bring a new Nagl to the world.

So I'd started writing a post on New Year's Eve looking back over the last 9 months or so, but every time I read it back the words seemed useless, pompous and inadequate, all at the same time. So, taking a leaf from Wifey's book, here's a selection of pictures of Bagl from 2012, with a few brief (well, that's the plan) written memories to go with them. Should you be indifferent or repelled by baby photos, go no further. I won't be making a habit of this sort of thing, honest...

Homecoming

It's been less than five days since we went into Victoria Hospital, Kirkcaldy, but it feels an age ago, inconceivably distant. Today, finally, Katherine & Magnus were both given the all-clear to come home. Given the bogglingly odd weather over Scotland today we had to make sure he was nice and snug on his first introduction to the outside world (hence the second photo, Magnus clad in a jacket, hat and gloves knitted by his own Mum). And now they're home, Magnus snuggled up against Katherine while he gets his first introductions to music (we're finishing up the evening with Celtic Dreamland, with bedtime round the corner). He seems to be asleep, even if his hands aren't.

So - that's us now, the two of us now three. The next few days are going to be spent settling into this new life with a new life, free of the drama and anxiety of a hospital stay (as lovely as the maternity unit staff undoubtedly were), as we get used to having this little human being to look after. Thank you to all those who've been in touch one way or another to give their support and congratulations, it's meant a huge amount to us and been a great support to me when coming home on my tod. What a joy, then, to have my family home at last. Our old normality is long gone. Let's see what this new one's like.

Delayed Familification

Aw. Despite my hopes yesterday, sadly Katherine & Magnus are spending tonight at the hospital after all. I really miss them - I'm rubbish on my own, mooching around the house and looking lost - but given the happenings of Saturday morning I'm glad that the Maternity Unit are looking after them so well and making sure everything's tickety-boo before release.

Today went fine, with me changing a couple of nappies entirely on my tod with minimal disaster, and Magnus having quite the appetite. He's got a touch of the jaundice (though not as much as the above photo suggests) so gets placed in the sunlight whenever any happens to appear in Kirkcaldy, counter to the usual advice on babies and sunshine, but seems fine otherwise, veering from dozy slumbers to wide-eyed mouth-clucking milk-hunger (and, oh, his utter disappointment when I pick him up and he roots around for a nice milky nipple, only to get a mouthful of t-shirt).

Anyway, time for bed, back to the hospital again tomorrow - I can only hope that this time tomorrow there'll be three of us here, not just me (in which case I probably won't be blogging, so if all's quiet here tomorrow evening then all's gone fine). But if you've not read it yet I've got to point you in the direction of Charlie Brooker's latest column in the Guardian.  Partly because it's a wonderful piece of writing, partly because the events he describe are very close to what happened with ourselves (the only notable deviation being that when I put scrubs on it all proceeded to go ahead) and as such he nails the emotions, feelings, the sheer holy-shitting-fuck-WHATness of it all - and the overwhelming feeling of love and euphoria that quickly followed. Here's an excerpt but, seriously, do read the whole thing. It's all true.

Apologies for swearing in the presence of a child, but the first thing I thought was "Fuck me". Not just as an expression of surprise, but as a mission statement, as in: "Fuck me and what I want – from now on, my task is to protect you, whatever or whoever you are." Prior to the birth, other dads had warned me that "bonding" might not happen for weeks, even months. Also, I was worried I might simply feel nothing. Instead I felt reprogrammed, head-to-toe, in an instant. That was a shock.

Day Two

Another short blog-based update, having spent the day at Victoria Hospital with my lass and our boy. All going fine, hoping they'll be able to come home tomorrow but not confirmed yet. Katherine was delighted to hear about all the good wishes from all the many many good people over the last day. Had my first attempt at changing a nappy (with the help of Wifey, thank the stars) and in doing so experienced the kind of disaster that existing-parents warn parents-to-be of with the thousand-yard-stare of veterans - more on that in a future post, no doubt. Here's a couple of photos from today, along with a sketch of Magnus I drew on the iPod - awfully difficult to draw a two-day old, they're pretty much lacking in solid lines (unless you draw the hands, which are nothing but lines and lines and lines). Anyway, time for bed. Tomorrow - fingers crossed.

   

A Birthday

Welcome to our universe

Welcome to the planet earth

- Intruder, Susanna

Magnus David Peter Nagl, born today just after 7am. Mother and baby are both fine, staying overnight at hospital, while I've been sent home until visiting time tomorrow. Even in the silence of this house, I can hear in my mind the squelching pulse of the baby's monitored heartbeat during labour, and the wailing of his cries during his more aggrieved moments this afternoon. Not a day old, and he's already got me wrapped around his fascinatingly wrinkly little finger. And I couldn't be any happier.

I'm also absolutely shattered, with hardly any sleep since Wednesday, so I'll be heading up to bed in just a minute. But I wanted to have something posted to mark today, though the overwhelming feelings and emotions of the last few days feel beyond even my usual hyperbole-drenched words. I'll let the above picture and lyrics from a couple of songs do the job for now.

Will you stay in our lovers' story

If you stay, you won't be sorry

'Cause we believe in you

Soon you'll grow so take a chance

With a couple of kooks

Hung up on romancing...

- Kooks, David Bowie

 

From Here To Paternity

(What the... is that a moustache?)

Blimey. Seems like only yesterday I was writing this post announcing our status as parents-to-be, though it turns out to have been six months ago. This Thursday sees the Sprög-to-be - who has become known online as Bagl (I think it was Stu N who came up with that?) - reach the ripe old age of 39 weeks in utero... except he would only have been conceived 37 weeks ago, such is the slightly confusing way of dating these things. ANYWAY, the point is that the little bounder should finally be making an appearance into the world very flipping soon indeed, so before he does so and everything goes totally babybatshit crazy, I thought I'd try and write about what the last eight months have been like.

And yet... now I'm actually sat here, trying to put it into words, it seems damn near impossible. There's been so much, such a conflict of emotions, that whenever I try to express them in words I feel the need to add a bucketload of provisos and context. It all gets terribly complex and putting stuff in writing can over-simplify, leaving out things you think go without saying but, it turns out, don't. One tweet expressing anxiety at the upcoming birth was misinterpreted as a horrible winge at the child itself, an experience that underlined the risk of getting into this stuff in 140 characters or less, at least if you're as clumsy at expressing yourself concisely as I am.

Because I don't want to just say the pregnancy was 'good' or 'bad' - it's nowhere near that simple or clear-cut. It's fair to say it's not been the pregnancy neither Wifey not I expected, with hyperemesis gravidarum hitting hard from early August to... well, there's no one day where suddenly everything was tickety boo again, but the second half of the pregnancy was certainly an improvement on the first. I found it profoundly difficult to see Wifey so wiped out by the sickness, for so long, and given what she was going through she handled things amazingly - she's been incredibly strong throughout all this. It's awful to see someone you love suffering and feeling utterly unable to make things better, and during those early months I hurtled about the internet looking for possible solutions that might help. Of those, we can (cautiously) recommend the following for at least making it very slightly less horrendous, with the proviso that what works for one person might not work for anyone else on the face of the planet:

• smelling a freshly-cut lemon;
• drinking ice-cold water, through a straw;
• Wifey was able to drink lemon barley water when all else seemed unbearable, again through a straw (we've still got three unopened bottles of the stuff!)
• freezing packets of Capri-Sun, then sucking them throughout the day slushy-style;
• Gaviscon (note: in the UK you can get big bottles of this on prescription);
• rich tea biscuits, Ryvita, Crispbread, toast, crackers, all with a very thin layer of butter spread on top;
• Polos - good way to 'drown out' too much saliva;
• Tracker bars are handy for nibbling for if you have to go out;
• for dinner: baked potato, noodles, rice, pasta, gnocchi, but not with any rich sauces;
• if you can stomach cereal with milk, small bowls of corn flakes or rice crispies.

I stopped drawing faces on them after the second day

With regard to that last one, having breakfast as early as possible (part of the problem seems to be excess stomach acid building up while you're asleep with nothing to do) seemed to help - I've brought her breakfast at 5:30/6am every morning since last summer, the contents of the breakfast changing as we tried to figure out what worked best for her (get a sturdy tray and a cool bag).  Indeed, multiple bowls of cereal throughout the day have been a real help to Wifey when little else would stay down. The word you keep hearing when looking for guidance is GINGER - be it ginger snaps, ginger tea, ginger cake, anything ginger is apparently a real blessing.  However, if ginger causes your tummy to do somersaults at the best of times, that's chuff-all use. And don't assume it's just a part of pregnancy to be endured - getting help from the doctor made a big difference.

All that said, through no-ones fault, I still felt both helpless and useless, and that stung. I felt a failure for not being able to make Wifey feel better, and this was something I had to deal with over those months. I can understand, though certainly not sympathise with, men who look for some kind of escape when it all gets heavy - be it booze, adultery or just generally avoiding going home. I can understand it, but also despise it, because it's weak, and unbecoming of a man. Because no matter how tough it's been for me, I've no doubt it's been far worse for Wifey - and if there's one life lesson worth learning in advance of parenthood, it's not to run away from problems, from whatever's making you feel bad, awful, a failure, but to face them. And while I often felt drained and hollowed from keeping everything going at home and at work, that's what had to be done, and while I didn't try to escape it I also didn't try to bury it (well, not too deeply). Talking to others helped a lot, though only in person - it's the kind of thing that just didn't seem to belong on Facebook, Twitter or email. To verbalise these feelings, to speak them out loud, makes them manageable, not the vague amorphous clouds of doom floating around the noggin, and if there's one thing I dearly want my son to learn it's that - to really talk, to be able to say how he feels.

Looked at logically, I wasn't useless - I was doing all the housework, shopping and cooking! - but in the depths of a gloom logic doesn't shine too brightly. But this is why you're both in this as a team, together, and while you can't take the sickness for her or carry the sprog-to-be yourself, you can still do so much. Being there counts for so much - when you're going off to work it's difficult to imagine how isolating it must feel being stuck at home for weeks on end.  While I wouldn't have done things any differently, in retrospect I wish I hadn't been so hard on myself, so quick to find fault with what I was or wasn't doing. Silly boy.

Now I've made it sound as though the whole pregnancy has been a massive cloud of misery with Wifey constantly sick and me constantly sad. Not so - it's just that often pregnancy seems to be presented as a time of babymoons, the best sex ever, working until the waters break, and while that'll be the case for many couples out there, it's not for all. There were lows - see above - but highs too, along with generally content middly-bits. Because as the root of it all - an ever-growing embryo - became more apparent, it was easier to deal with everything. Both the 12 and 20 week scans were huge boosts, but so were days when there wasn't sickness, days when ante-natal appointments filled a room with the sound of the fetal heartbeat squelching away furiously like vintage Aphex Twin.

Friends and family visiting gave us both a great lift, negating that sense of isolation. As the bump became ever more apparent, it all felt realer and realer. And, crucially, it felt increasingly like something we were in together, rather than something that was just happening to Wifey. I know, I know - she was still the one doing the really hard work, but by getting as involved as possible I didn't feel like I was on the outside looking in, as though I'd done the one essential task for the father and now didn't matter. I loved the antenatal appointments, the scans, the classes, and would urge every father-to-be to go to every one, it makes a huge difference. As it progressed we spent less time talking about sickness and more & more about the Bump, the Sprög, the Bagl. I'd talk & sing to him even when I knew he didn't have functioning ears yet, playing reggae music to him through the iPod Touch. Throughout pregnancy there's a constant underlying fear, like a drone that never quite silences, that it could all suddenly end, but as the week numbers rise the fear recedes and you feel comfortable shopping for clothes, for nappies, for all that baby stuff (oh, that's for another post). We even came up with our own 'private' name for Bagl which we call him, but no-one else knows - it certainly won't be a name he's given once he's born, but it's added to a lovely feeling of togetherness. And that counts so much.

At the beginning I kept looking on the Baby & Bump First Trimester message board for indications of what would help Wifey, how soon the sickness might go, and given that we'd not announced the pregnancy at that point it wasn't possible to talk about things with others. The board helped a bit, in that I did get a few hints that we tried, but I soon gave up on reading it after some particularly idiotic anti-vaccine gibbering, mums-to-be showing off about just how much great sex they were having, and smoking mums-to-be complaining they were being strongly advised to stop smoking. There aren't really any established messageboards along the lines of B&B, Mumsnet or Babycentre for dads-to-be, but then it's hard to imagine chaps feeling comfortable with that format - I certainly wouldn't have been. But I did enjoy using the Sprout app (even if it is targeted at mums-to-be - dads can be interested too, y'know) which gives a week-by-week depiction of how the foetus is developing, usually with some kind of fruit/veg comparison (ie he's the size of a courgette!). I remember looking at this at 8 weeks and thinking how impossibly far away 39 weeks looked. How time flies...

Having brooded so much on the sad stuff, I'd like to wrap up by thinking over some of the nicest times. I've mentioned the ultrasound scans already - you get the 12 and 20 week scans on the NHS as standard (yay NHS!), but because the bump was measuring a little small we were also offered scans at 32 and 36 weeks to ensure he was developing okay (again, on the wonderful NHS, where they didn't even charge us for scan printouts). I'm happy to confirm he measured absolutely fine on those scans, and while the key purpose was to ensure he was healthy rather than give us another look at him, to see his face at these later stages was quite amazing. The real standout moment was at the 36 week scan when we were shown his face - and, as we looked, his mouth moved and his eyes opened and closed. A stunningly odd moment, in the best possible way, bogglingly reminiscent of the end of 2001 (hence the poster up yonder).

Also - while the above has me going on about feeling bad seeing Wifey so sick, the flip side was the joy of seeing her slowly improve over days, weeks and months. The delight of cooking her a proper dinner for us to eat together, making recipes like veggy shephard's pie, lentil dahl, risotto - once upon a time this wouldn't have been a big deal, but after months of hyperemesis each meal was a victory. And there's an extra frisson of pride knowing that the food I've made for my wife will indirectly make it's way to the Sprög, helping him get all the goodness he needs.

Also - having friends (both local and far-flung) who've either been through pregnancy recently or are on the way has given an awful lot of succour. I've particularly appreciated the blogs set up by Dietsch (Daddy's Whiskey) and Jenblossom (Feeding Julian) since they had their son last year - really inspiring. There's been plenty of articles at The Good Men Project over the months that have also been a help. And then there's the baby books - ah, but that's for another post too.

Also, more than anything else - Wifey. She's just amazing. She's coped with so much, but still remains an absolute star and my favourite person to be around. Even during the worst of it we would still find time to talk, to laugh, to just be together. Whenever we go outside, be it for an antenatal appointment or a walk, I'm so goddamn chuffed to be with her. And I will always, always be utterly grateful to her for going through all this to bring our son into the world.

Everyone changes over time, so it seems silly to say I'm not the same person I was nine months ago. Nonetheless, the experience has forced me to come to terms with some of my more annoying flaws (the one about talking in silly voices remains) which may turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Better to get over my selfishness, my neediness for approval, before there's a tiny little lad here inadvertently exascerpating such flaws through no fault of his own. I'm hardly the perfect person now, but I feel better, readier, and possibly, hopefully, just a tiny bit more grown-up - though no doubt there's plenty more change to come in the next few weeks. But the silly voices are staying.

Well, there we go. If you've made it to the end, BRAVO. I'm not sure if that post adds anything to the world but I feel better for getting it out there, and what else is a personal blog for? I've no idea how this blog will change once Bagl appears, and things may go quiet for a bit, but I've taken to gibbering on Twitter an awful lot these days (having gone off Facebook - ah, another post!) so if you want to keep up with what happens, lookee there. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week (and hopefully not later than that) our little world is going to change - and I can't wait to embrace it, to embrace him.

(Should you be remotely interested, we've set up a wishlist for Spröggy stuff over at Amazon filled with all sorts of things that should be ideal for dressing/amusing/poking the child with. Romper suits! Totoro rattles! Finger worms! And a few things for Bagl too.)

Baby Drawing

One thing I'm particularly looking forward to once Bagl arrives on Planet Earth is the potential for baby sketching. Much as I'd like to draw children, being absolutely fascinating subjects, I've always been far too wary to do any sketching of kids out and about the way I would with adults. It's all too easy to imagine the horrible assumptions that would be made of an adult male staring at kids in a public place. A real pity, and I can't help but wonder if a woman would feel as reticent as I do. I remember seeing pages of children sketches by Shirley Hughes (she of Dogger fame) at an exhibition of her work and being blown away by the way she had learned to get the proportions right while still capturing the exaggerated expressions and character of each child, the kind of study that makes her published work (like this) so good, so real. But it made me sad to think I couldn't do similar sketching of children down at the park, at the beach - at least, not of strangers.

As a result I've only ever drawn our friends' baby Charlie, so have hardly any experience of sketching such young sprogs where the proportions are so different to those of full-grown adults, their faces all roundness and forehead. Hopefully much sketching of the new Nagl will follow over the next few years, if only because I think sketches of a child as it grows would be that bit more special than just relying on photographs alone.

In the meantime, two recent blogposts demonstrate excellent sprog sketching, even though 80 years divide the drawings. The hugely talented illustrator/painter Daisuki 'Dice' Tsutsumi's son, Senju, was born last month - and in the few weeks that followed, he's not only sketched but painted his newborn child. Do click through and look at all of the sketches (see left)- they're quite brilliant and very inspiring.

Looking back, back, back, superstar animator Andreas Deja posted a number of scans from a 1930 book called Interesting People. While the drawings were initially credited to a Brenda E. Spencer, debate in the comments suggests the artist was actually J H Dowd. Whoever it was, these sketches are splendid, a wonderful example of capturing life, movement, character through deceptively simple drawings. Shown at the top-right of this post are drawings from this book of a baby learning to move and walk, while the other scans on Deja's post focus on slightly older children and are just as expressive. At least 80 years old, but drawn with a tenderness and vitality that seems brand new.

What The Deuce!

Splendid! I can only hope that the Bagl will respond to silly noises with similar wonder, because I've got a whole repertoire of nonsense waiting to be deployed.

 

(Video by Fatherhood Is, spotted on BuzzFeed)

UPDATE: Well, if I'm going to be the kind of person who posts baby videos from now on, I may as well embrace it wholeheartedly.  Here's a rather classic OMG reaction to a jack-in-the-box, again via BuzzFeed.

 

That's 'Beowulf' Still In The Running Then

Few decisions are more personal than the naming of offspring. Yet laws regulating the choice of both first names and surnames are common around the world. Denmark expects new parents to choose from a register of acceptable names; Portugal lists banned and approved ones. In Iceland a committee of language specialists must rule on any unusual name. German registrars prohibit the use of most nouns and place-names, and also frown upon any that do not clearly imply a gender: bad luck, Kim.

[...] America and Britain have the most tolerant naming laws: what can be spelled with standard letters (however eccentrically) is allowed. Distinction-hungry celebrities make the most of this, as with Moon Unit (Frank Zappa), Apple (Gwyneth Paltrow) and Pilot Inspektor (the actor Jason Lee). Even the most strait-laced Americans see nothing odd in recycling a surname as a given name. Black parents are among the most inventive: a survey by two economists, Roland Fryer and Steven Levitt, found that nearly 30% of black girls in California in the 1990s received a first name that they shared with no other baby born in the state in the same year. Back in 1954 a baby (later to become secretary of state) gained the one-off name Condoleezza because it sounded like a musical instruction to play “with sweetness”.

Whether these decisions make any difference is another matter. A study in 2002 suggested that individuals may be unconsciously influenced by their first names.

text excerpt via www.economist.com, baby names table via www.mindfulmum.co.uk

Furry And! Purple! Covered With! Purple Fur!

This is what happens when I go a-wandering around the Internet - I ended up on Zooglobble, which appears to be a blog devoted to (good) music for children and families. And how was I going to resist something called 'I Think I'm A Bunny'? How?

Obviously I couldn't. PLAY!

 

"You're a monster! You're a monster!" You'll be singing that all day, mark my words. It's by Todd McHatton who is going ON THE LIST*.

* That's the good-music-to-play-to-the-sprög-before-he's-able-to-say-otherwise list.