Wednesday, 29 April 2009

Feeding Update

It has been tough and I can't say that I'm looking forward to the next time, but I seem to have won the feeding war.

After two days when every feed started with the bottle thing and ended with me in tears, Mummy and Daddy have decided to let me carry on feeding from Mummy for another few weeks. Which is really a whole lifetime away.

Last night they tried to work out why I didn't like it from the bottle thing when its exactly the same as Mummy's milk. I wanted to tell them that was just silly. My usual milk is warm and comes out all nice and perfectly for me. The bottle thing just makes it feel horrible and tastes like chewing Grandma Betty's finger after she's done the washing up.

Daddy compared it to drinking beer out of a can or a glass. Mummy didn't agree, but she seemed quite happy all the same. She said it makes her feel even closer to me, and I know just what she means.

I also saw the doctor yesterday. Apparently I'm a bundle of good health and I weigh more than when I was born. And he said that Mummy was in good shape but she looks a little tired. I wonder why that is?

In the evening Daddy watched the football again. I worked out from his noises that it was Arsenal. But he didn't seem very happy to be watching it. He just kept mumbling and biting his fingers. At the end he said "We've lost the battle but not the war". Mummy said, "Just like us and Daisy's bottle".

I'm not sure if that's a good thing, but I had a lovely feed lying on Mummy in the most comfy position you can imagine. She smelled lovely. I must have slept solidly because when I woke up everything was dark and Daddy was snoring. I had to cry to wake them up. Daddy woke up first and changed my nappy. He said he'd never seen anything like it ... he calls it the mustard factory. When I was clean and tidy he handed me to Mummy for some more milk. I dreamed about a walk in the buggy. What a lovely night.

Tuesday, 28 April 2009

The Bottle Thing

Today has been a bad day.

It all started last night. Mummy and Daddy were watching a programme about George Best and his Mum. It was a bit boring. They kept talking about people with drink problems. I understood exactly what they meant. After all, it took me ages to work out how to drink properly.

Anyway, they started to watch less and talk more and eventually Dad said:

"When are you thinking of trying the bottle on our little girl?"

"I just don't know" said Mummy. "On one hand I think it would be good to get her used to it. Ruth said that it gets harder the longer you leave it. On the other hand, I love feeding her."

I knew that Daddy would start talking next because Mummy only has two hands.

"It's your choice Love" he said, but I'd love to try and feed her once she is on the bottle."

That seemed to swing it for Mummy and they decided that today would be the day. I wondered what this all meant, and I got so tired thinking about it that I fell asleep for ages. When I woke up everything was dark and I started crying. I think this annoyed Daddy because he said that he wished Mummy had woken me up before he went to bed so he could get a good night's sleep before work. She smiled and said that if things went to plan then he could make those decisions very soon.

Anyway, during today I kept hearing funny things going on. First of all I knew something odd was up when Mummy called Grandma Betty for some advice. It was all about sterilising and how many minutes it needs to be in for. I had no idea what it was, but those germs sound horrible. I hope they aren't the same ones Daddy says are coming to visit from Mexico.

Then Mummy called her friend Sue about the best way to get started. And they kept talking about teats and rubber and heat.

I got pretty bored during all this. So I cried. Which made me hot. Which made me cry more. And it was only when Mummy took me for a wash with the wet cotton wool that I felt a bit better.

And then Daddy came home. They were both very excited and there was lots of rushing in and out of the kitchen measuring things and then a lot of loud noise from the pump thing that Mummy had also been discussing with Sue. She said it felt weird. Daddy said it looked weird nd kept looking away. But I found the noise quite comforting.

Finally, Daddy picked me up and I rested in that nice bit under his shoulder and leaned back. He pushed some cloth under my chin and then it happened. He stuck something revolting in my mouth. It took me a second or two to react. It was huge and hard and cold. It was a funny light colour. It felt all funny and nothing like Mummy. I tried to spit it out but he held it there. So I just screamed with all my might and he took it out. I was actually quite shocked and cried for a bit longer.

"I think you should have left it there" said Mummy.

"But she hated it" said Daddy. "I just couldn't do that to her."

"Let me have a go" she replied.

So we went through the whole process again, but this time I was on Mummy. Which was worse. Because that thing was still horrid. But she held it there for ages until I had to swallow, and it was cold and not at all like normal milk. And I could smell Mummy's milk really close by. Eventually I just started to cough a lot and the experiment finished for the evening.

I'm not sure what to do next. I had a nice feed with Mummy to get me off to sleep. But I can't help worrying that the bottle thing will return tomorrow.

Why do things have to change?

Sunday, 26 April 2009

The Marathon

Today Mummy and Daddy woke me up before I started crying, so I knew something was up. I had my milk in their bed and hardly dribbled any down my chin or Mummy's tummy. Daddy was already dressed and he had a big blue piece of material around his body.

"This, Daisy Darling, is your sling. It means we can take you on the tube." I had no idea what the tube was, but I burped appreciatively.

A few minutes later I was in tears. I couldn't quite work out what they were trying to do, but Mummy, Daddy and the blue thing were getting all tangled up and I was hanging out of it at a funny angle.

"It looked simple enough when Ruth showed us what to do" said Mummy, "shall I get the instructions off the internet?".

"No" said Daddy sternly, we don't need instructions. We can work this out ourselves."

Sure enough, half an hour later (according to Mummy) we were on our way to the London Marathon.

I spent most of the time wrapped up inside the blue sling and I couldn't see out of it. So I can't tell you much about what happened But I heard and felt quite a lot.

The tube train is very noisy and crowded. It is also very hot. Daddy kept his arms round me the whole time which was very snug, but I thought I was going to boil. One man on there was singing very loudly and another asked Mummy for some money.

It felt really windy when we got out of the train, but I was still awake and pleased that it suddenly smelled much nicer. It also got much brighter. Daddy said that it was a better day for watching than running and Mummy said she felt sorry for Derek who had trained all winter in the cold.

I have no idea what the Marathon actualy is. At one stage Daddy took me out and held me up in front of lots of people rushing towards something. They were all dressed in what looked like vests and nappies. Maybe they had tickets for the Marathon. I wished I was dressed like them. I had a long sleeved baby grow (pink of course), an anorak and a vest. And after a while inside the sling, the nearest side to Daddy started to get very damp and smelly.

Once I was inside there, Mummy started using the voice she used when she was in the car, and saying things like "Come on Dippy, you can do it" and "Well done Sandy from Childline". Daddy kept saying things like "No sign of Derek, he must be suffering in the heat poor sod".

I imagine we were waiting for Derek to arrive before we went to the Marathon. In the end I fell asleep and missed the whole thing.

Daddy took me back out of the sling on the way home in the train. My neck is still quite wobbly but he held me up and rested his finger under my chin. I felt really grown up. I could see lots of people smiling at me and asking Mummy how old I was.

"Nearly a month. It's just flown by." she said about ten times.

Anyway, I loved all the attention and didn't cry once. Lots of people said I look just like Daddy. But that's silly. He has all that hair all over the place and a grizzly chin. Still, it made him hapy and he hugged me all the way home without using the sling at all.

What a lovely day. I wonder what happened to Derek.

Saturday, 25 April 2009

Please become my friend on Facebook

Mummy seems to stay in touch with all her friends that way. I wish I had some friends. Looking forward to hearing from you! VLV xxx

The Car

I was woken up from my morning nap by Mummy staring at me with something square and black balanced between her ear and her shoulder.

"I've got to whisper, she's asleep" were the first words I heard. It took me a while to focus my eyes, but I can see much better these days and Mummy was obviously ready for action.

"That's lucky, she's just waking up now" she said into the black box.

Somehow she managed to undress me, clean me, clothe me and pick me up without moving her head away from it.

"Anyway Jules, I've got to go. We've got a big morning ahead of us ... our first car journey!" A lot of high pitched noises sounded from inside the box, but I was soon having a good old feed, which meant I lost concentration. When I came up for air the box had disappeared and Mummy started behaving normally again.

"Now my Darling", she said banging my back, "It's a lovely sunny morning and I'm going to take you in the car to visit Uncle Eddie." This all sounded fun, and I delighted her by giving a nice big burb.

"Whose a clever Daisy?" she said in her stupid voice that she doesn't use when other people are around. I closed my eyes to demonstrate my disapproval, but its hard to be in bad mood for long when you're alone with Mummy.

It won't surprise you to hear that I was over-dressed for our outing. But within five minutes I was being strapped into a hard chair in the back of Mummy's blue car. It wasn't much fun to start with and I had a good cry, particularly when the whole place made a noise and started shaking, but Mummy drove off and with the sun shining it got very hot. Before I knew it, I was waking up to hear Mummy talking to someone in very loudly.

"Please let me through, can't you see I've got a baby in the back?" she said in her annoyed voice.

"Oh my goodness, please will you bloody slow down" she said a moment later.

"I can't bloody believe it, he's driving around with a mobile in his hand. He's a moving death trap."

This didn't sound nice and I started crying.

"Don't worry Darling, we're nearly there" said Mummy, and suddenly her head and arm appeared over the top of my seat and she stroked my hair. This was folowed by a loud hoot and we seemed to change direction very quickly, which felt quite nice.

"Blimey" said Mummy.

Uncle Eddie was fun. He ran around the place with me in his arms and he bounced me up and down. I had a brilliant time until I was sick on his shoulder.

I had some more milk and Mummy and Eddie talked about someone called Rachel. Mummy said he should send her flowers but Eddie said he should wait a bit so he didn't look too keen. Mummy said "You can never go wrong with flowers". Which isn't what she said last week at home when she told dad that she'd "run out of vases and all these dying flowers are beginning to stink."

Anyway, I had a big feed followed by a sleep, but when I woke up I felt boiling hot. So I cried. Mummy told Eddie that I often get bad wind when I fall asleep feeding, so he picked me up and bashed my back for a while. It hurt so I cried some more.

I couldn't wait for the safety of the car journey home. We drove off listening to some music. Mummy sang along. The strap across my tummy felt very tight. That's all I remember really because I was still much too warm and the next thing I knew we were home again and I was starving.

Wednesday, 22 April 2009

Getting Out

We went out today for the first time to somewhere other than the hospital.

Daddy was back at work, and so me and Mummy went to a place called Tesco. It was quite fun. Things didn't start too well. Before putting me in my pram, Mummy squeezed me into two long-sleeved vest tops, a baby-grow and an anorak. She then zipped me up inside a thick bag.

This all took about ten minutes. Once she'd done it I did a pooh which she heard. So I was unbundled and repackaged and we set off about eleven o'clock.

The biggest surprise was that outside was boiling hot. I realise how lucky I am in the flat. With all those layers and this bright sunshine I'd melt in no time.

The sunshine was a bit of a nightmare every time I tried to open my eyes, and so I kept them tightly shut. Mummy kept talking to me and saying how nervous she was to be out on our own. I enjoyed being wheeled about and listened without making any noises at all. At one stage she bent over and put he ear near my nose. I tried not to breathe too heavily as it might have given her a shock. A few seconds later she poked my cheek and I started crying. She sighed with relief which was a bit odd. She usually hates it when I cry.

Anyway, I stopped moaning as soon as we reached Tesco. Because I suddenly understood why I was so wrapped up. Its freezing in there. Mummy kept telling me what she was buying, and I can't say I envy her eating all those peas and bags of corn. I could feel the cold from inside my pram. Goodness knows what they must be like to put in your mouth. Give me milk any day.

While we were in the shop lots of people poked their heads into my pram and told Mummy how adorable I was. I tried to smile. Nothing much happened, but I did burp in the face of one old lady. She laughed.

On the way home Mummy spoke on the phone to Daddy and told him she'd had a real shock earlier when she couldn't hear me breathing. It doesn't seem very fair - they don't like me keeping quiet or snoring. I think its what Uncle Eddie calls a 'no win' situation. But he's usually talking about girls.

Mummy went quiet for a while on the phone. She must have been listening to Daddy. Then she said 'Oh dear, bloody Alastair Darling'. I don't know who Alastair is, but I hope he hasn't cut himself too badly.


Monday, 20 April 2009

Snoring and Stuff

For weeks before I was born, Mummy and Daddy spent ages talking about my bedroom. Then they decorated it and filled it with all sorts of baby things. They said it was perfect, and the Winnie the Pooh posters would work whether I was a boy or a girl.

And guess what. Since we got home, I've been there once. That was within about five minutes of returning from the hospital. Daddy took me for a tour of the flat and explained what all the rooms were for. That was lovely, and very thoughtful of him, but I couldn't see a thing and still have no idea what a Winnie the Pooh actually is. I wonder if it looks like one of my poohs?

I still sleep in their room. Which is nice in some ways. Its very comforting knowing that they are around. And its nice to hear them chatting away, particularly when its about me. Which it is most of the time.

However, its not all great. For a start there's Dad's snoring. It must have been muffled when I was in my old home, because it has come as quite a shock. It starts slowly and gets louder and louder until its almost unbearable.

The first couple of times it started I cried to ask him to be quiet. But Mummy turned on the lights and gave me some food. It did stop him for a bit, but as soon as I was drinking, he started all over again. I cried a bit and Mummy whispered in my ear that all I needed was a good burp.

And from what I can work out, once I'm asleep, I sound just like Daddy. I've only got a little nose, but according to them it makes a lot of noise. They don't wake me up to tell me to stop, but they do sometimes turn the light on and say things like "let her be, she needs it. We can always read for a while." They also keep having discussions about ear plugs.

The simplest solution would be for me to move in with the Winnie the Pooh. But I overheard Mummy say that wouldn't happen until I was six months old. Six months! That's like ten lifetimes.

Sunday, 19 April 2009

Weights and Measures

Mummy loves it when the midwife visits. She writes a list of everything that's worrying her and tells the midwife. The midwife listens, smiles and says "that's normal". She then smiles some more and Mummy breathes a sigh of relief and says "that makes me feel so much better".

Take the last visit. I was woken up by Mum trying to stick her finger up my nose. "She just gets so blocked up and breathes so heavily". "That's fine" smiled the midwife, she only has tiny nostrils". "But look at this!" said Mummy excitedly, pulling out something brown and sticky from my nose. "That's fine Mrs Harding" said the midwife.

They undressed me together. I'd felt very hot so it was a relief to be naked.

"Well Daisy, you look like you've put on some weight" said the midwife.

"Do you think so? I've been worried that she's not drinking enough".

The midwife tucked me inside some cloth and dangled me in the air. It felt really fun. "Seven pounds and an ounce" she announced.

"That's her birth weight" said Mummy joyfully. She made it sound like I'd done something really special. I sneezed and a bit more brown stuff came out of my nose.

"Do you mind looking at her back for me. It looks a bit sore."

"That's just a little dry patch, no need to worry."

"Are you really sure?"

The midwife must have smiled (I can tell when someone is smiling because their voice changes) and she said "Mrs Harding, you have a beautiful, healthy daughter. You just need to relax and enjoy it."

"I wish you were here all the time" said Mummy. "You calm me down".

After the midwife had gone, Mummy was in a brilliant mood. She opened some windows and I could smell fresh air. Then she put on some of the music she used to play when I lived inside her. She held me in both arms and we danced around the kitchen. The cool air felt lovely and I opened my eyes quite a lot.

"Daddy and I love you so much, Darling. We'd do anything for you, you know."

I knew. I wish I could have said something back. Unfortunately, she then said. "Oh gosh, you must be freezing. I better get another layer on you." I cried a bit to disagree. "Oh dear" she said, "maybe I'll get you another blanket too."

Thursday, 16 April 2009

What do I do to pass the time?

As more and more guests shuffle in to see what I look like and squeal, they often ask each other what I'm thinking about.
Well, I have to admit that its a good question.
I must be awake for at least six hours a day.
I spend two or three of them feeding, trying to feed, or trying not to feed despite being shoved head first into a milk fountain. My Dad says that the only person he's heard of who spent that proportion of their time drinking was George Best. And look what happened to him. I haven't actually got a clue what happened to him, but Dad repeats it every time anyone is over so I guess I'll find out soon.

When I'm not feeding I'm often trying to pooh. Or wishing I hadn't poohed. Or wishing that someone would come and change my nappy. According to Mummy, its all still nice and yellow down there, but not quite as runny as she'd imagined.

Anyway, moving on, I'm afraid I spend quite a bit of time wishing I wasn't doing waht I'm doing. That includes looking into bright lights, being held by smelly people, being rocked about by aggressive people (who mean well) or just being stroked in the face when I want to doze.

I also spend time wodering what things really look like. Mummy often says things like "isn't that a perfect shade of green?", or "I really think that book case could fall down any minute" but all I see is a blur. Which can make life pretty dull.
In the remaining minutes before sleep, I think of all the things I'd like to say if I could speak. Like "I'm dirty, please change me". Or "I'm hot, please take that fifth blanket off". Or "Please turn me round while you watch telly so I can be involved too". Or "My face is itchy, please can you scratch it?". Or even "I really think it's time you cut that silly thing off my belly button. It's annoying and it isn't actually doing anything".

Anyway, we're expecting the midwife again soon, so I need to get some rest for that ordeal.

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Visitors and Presents

The stream of visitors continues.
These visits follow a very consistent pattern.
About ten minutes before they are due Mummy runs around the flat tidying things up.
Just before they are meant to arrive she takes me into her bedroom to change my nappy and spruce me up a bit.
Five minutes after they are supposed to be here, Mummy says its a shame that they are late.
Daddy agrees and says that if they're going to be late, he'd rather they didn't come at all.
Ten minutes later they both decide that the guests won't be coming at all and agree that they aren't as good friends as they'd always thought.
Then the doorbell goes.
One of them rushes to the door and I hear screams of joy and lots of loud kissing in the hall.
Then the friend arrives in the sitting room and says "Where is she ... oh my gosh ... she's tiny ... oooh, she's beautiful."
Mummy asks if they want to hold me and they usually say yes.
So I get hauled out of my basket for another round of squeezing, stroking and touching. Sometimes this is quite soothing and I go to sleep. At others it is just uncomfortable and annoying. The worst was Mummy's friend Sue. She told Mummy that her children liked it when they were lifted up and down quickly in front of her face.
She demonstrated this technique.
I was sick all over her jumper.
She said it was fine but I could hear that she wasn't happy. She used the same voice that Daddy uses when three of Mummy's friends come to visit on the same day.
When they are fed up holding me, all the visitors ask if they can do anything to help. This ends up with Mummy or Dad making them a cup of tea and giving them some cake.
They then give me a present.
Unfortunately, they don't really give it to me. They give it to Mummy saying things like "I'm sure she has lots of lovely stuff for now so we've got her something for when she's a bit older".
Mummy says, "Wow, it's stunning".
Daddy says, "Gosh, you guys are much too generous".
I rarely get to see it. When I do, and rememeber that things are all a bit of a fuzz to me, it generally looks big and pink. The pink balloons are beginning to disappear now, the pink flowers are dying, but I can relax in the knowledge that, in Dad's words, for as long as I can imagine there will be enough pink clothes to make me look like a cross between a liquorice allsort and a Post-it note.
When the vistors leave Mummy generally says "It was so good to see you, we must see each other more often". They agree and promise to come again soon.
When the door closes, Mummy comes in to feed me.
She says to Daddy: "Can you believe how long they stayed for?".
He says: "I know, and they didn't even get up to put on the kettle".
By this time I'm happily drinking away and ready for a sleep.
And then the doorbell goes again. So I cry.

Tuesday, 14 April 2009

Grandma Betty's Visit

Grandma Betty came round today again.
I could tell it was her because Mum was feeding me in the sitting room when the doorbell rang. She then shouted out for Daddy to answer it and carried me straight into the bedroom.
It was the longest feed I have ever had.
After about fifteen minutes I stopped drinking.
About ten minutes later I fell asleep.
And it must have been quite a bit afterwards that Mummy took me inside to see Grandma.

"Hi Betty" she said.
"Hi Jane" said Grandma, with much more enthusiasm than Mummy.
Daddy picked me up and kissed me and then handed me over to Grandma. She smelled lovely and held me in a very comfotable position. I closed my eyes feeling content.

"Oh she's a wonderful little girl Jane" said Grandma Betty to Mummy.
"She isn't always like this" replied Mummy.
"I must have the knack" said Grandma jokily.
There was a long silence.
"Does anyone want a nice cup of tea?" asked Dad in a voice that didn't sound like him at all.
"That would be wonderful Darling" said Grandma.
"When I'd just had your Daddy I couldn't stop drinking tea" said Grandma looking straight at me. I'd been thinking about opening my eyes but her breath smelled a bit funny so I kept them closed and scrunched up my nose.
"I must have had ten cups a day and it just went straight through me!", she continued.
Mummy interrupted.
"I'm so sorry, I think I need to have a lie down."
"You do that. Don't worry about Daisy, she's happy with her Grandma. Oooh, I just can't get used to calling myself that."
"I'm sure you will" said Mummy, and she left us alone.
I'm not quite sure what happened next because I woke up some time later in the bedroom.
I could hear Mummy saying sorry to Daddy and saying something about too much sherry before lunctime.
I have no idea what sherry is, but I was too hungry to find out.
So I cried.

How I feel right now

I'm very lucky to have such cuddly and caring parnets. I know that because people keep telling me whenever they come round to visit. However, I'm beginning to get a tiny bit fed up with Mummy and Dad telling people with such confidence how I am feeling.

Here's an example. Their friends Dan and Julia came over this morning. I was dozing.
Dan and Dad started talking about cricket.
Julia asked Mummy what the first week or so had been like. And Mummy said:
"Well, we love it, but she's quite a temperemental little thing. There are more tears than we expected."
They kept chatting, which gave me time to think, even though I was being held in a pretty uncomforatble position by Julia.

I have to admit that I don't know what 'temperemental' actually means. But it sounded a bit critical. The fact is that I only cry if I'm hurting or hungry or very tired or I need to tell people something.
The sort of things I need to say are:

1. You are squashing me when you hold me like that.
2. Stop binding me up in blankets - I want to move my arms.
3. Everything is a bit fuzzy and I don't like it when its too bright.
4. I feel sick.
5. I've just swallowed some sick.
6. I really didn't drink half as much as you think I just did.
7. I just drunk loads. Please don't try and force any more down me.
8. My hair is all sticky. I haven't had it washed since I was born.
9. I'm bored lying here. I used to spend long days out and about with mum and now I seem to spend most of my time in the bedroom or the sitting room either left alone or being passed around like a parcel.
10. I'm hot or I'm cold. Generally I'm hot.

And on the basis that all I can really do is cry or keep quiet, then its not surprising that I seem to cry quite a bit.
I hope that clears things up. And that temperemental doesn't actaully mean something nice.

Wednesday, 8 April 2009

What's Arsenal?

So there I was, lying in my huge Moses basket in Mummy and Dad's room dozing happily and dreaming about the good old days when I didn't need to wait for Mummy to be ready to feed me, and most of my meal didn't end up running down my neck, when there was a huge scream.

Was someone hurt? Had I turned yellow again? Were we all going to have to go back to the hospital? I had no idea, so I joined in by crying as loudly as possible.

For the first time since I arrived, no one ran in to see how I was, no one picked me up, and no one tried to wrap me in yet another blanket.

Instead, Dad shouted "You bloomin beauty ... come on Arsenal!" at the top of his voice. And then I heard a loud banging sound from the other room.
Mummy took a little while to arrive on the scene. She was soaking wet and my head got lots of drips on it. She picked me up and flung me over her shoulder and hugged me. I know she means well, but I got soggy hair in my face and the whole experience was pretty damp.

I cried some more to ask her to move me away from the hair. Unfortunately she clasped me even closer and I had no choice but to kick up a real fuss. The result was that she carried me into the main room where Mummy used a voice I'd never heard before and said: "Look what you've done".

Dad said: "Sorry Darling, but we've got an away goal in Spain". Mummy said: "Well I don't think Daisy is very impressed. You can put her back to bed."

Dad said: "You've got to be joking, this is the Champions League"

At that moment Mummy pushed me into his arms and said: "And this is your daughter".
She must have walked out at that point because Me and Dad sat watching the football. I could only make out some green light and lots of movement, but it was better than lying alone in my yellow pooh waiting for a nappy change.
I must have fallen asleep again, because I woke up back in their room with the lights off and listening to Dad snoring.

I felt hungry so I cried.

Tuesday, 7 April 2009

Why I'm going to be called Daisy

Well I'm home again. Which won't be news to you because I didn't have time to say I was leaving. But, in Mummy's words, it's beena bit of a palava.

On Friday night Mum noticed that my face was looking a bit yellow. She told Dad to keep his eye on it. This meant that as soon as I fell asleep he started poking me, shining a torch in my face and generally making me feel pretty irritated.
As a result of all this prodding and poking Dad spoke to Mum who made a couple of calls, and before you know it we were back in the same part of the same hospital where I made my painful entrance last week.

It turned out that I have mild jaundice. I could have told them that. They covered it in our class but I think Mummy might have dozed off. Apparently its not a big deal, but I spent two days under what Mum described as one of those tanning lamps that isn't supposed to be very good for you any more. It was pretty warm in there and incredibly bright which did nothing for my sleep and I went right off my milk.

In short it was a pretty boring way to spend my first weekend. Dad got a bit upset. He said it was because he couldn't bear to see me under the lamp. Mummy asked if he'd like a break to go home and watch the football. I'm still not sure when he's being serious, but I sensed that he was a little wistful when he said he wouldn't dream of it.

Anyway, they spent at least half the weekend deciding what to call me. The short list got bigger and bigger and I could sense that things were going to take a while when Dad said there was a spreadsheet function on his mobile.

They went through lists of pop stars, authors and tennis players. I breathed a big sigh of relief when they ruled out Venus and Serena. Mum said no to Jacqui because of some woman who lives in an office at home or something. She also said no to Sienna because of Jude Law. Dad banned Georgina because of RussellI Brand and the Satanic Sluts which was not something they mentioned at the NCT class.

I must have fallen asleep for a while because when I woke up they were standing very close by. I could smell Mum's perfume. She said "doesn't she just look perfect?".
Dad said: "She's just a beautiful little flower." Mum said: "Like a little yellow daisy." And Dad just said "Our Daisy."

They then repeated the word about ten times and Dad said: "It does work doesn't it?"
And they both laughed.
So I'm named after the effect of high levels in my blood of the chemical bilirubin. At least that's what the doctor said. I think it was caused by that bright light in the sitting room.

Mummy, Dad and Me got home again on Monday afternoon. They opened a bottle of champagne. I got some rather odd-tasting milk a few hours later and spat it out. Mummy said it must be the jaundice.

Daisy. Sounds like I should be lying in a field somewhere. I'm really cosy at the moment in that little space between Mummy's chest, but I might just have a good cry later to let them know that I'm not entirely convinced.

Friday, 3 April 2009

I've felt better

So another night is out of the way.
I feel pretty weak.
For a start, my head hurts. They all keep asking Mummy how she feels after all the stitches and stuff. But they seem to forget that it wasn't much fun getting out of there. And I've had a headache ever since.

Then there's the light. It's just so bright in this place. And just when it got a bit more bearable in the evening, someone made a clicking noise and suddenly there was something incredibly yellow shining right at me from the ceiling. I cried, but they thought it must be wind again, so they banged me on the back for a while. Imagine how that feels. I ended up with sore eyes and a tender back. But Imustn't forget that they mean well.

In all seriousness, it's pretty unlikely I could have wind. After all, I'm hardly drinking anything. Mumy is doing her best, but most of the decent stuff dribbles down into a white blanket thing while I desperately try to lick up what I can. I'm actually feeling a little dehydrated, but when I give them a cry to let them know they seem to think I'm getting cold and another blanket appears from nowhere.

The highlight of their night seemed to be that I'd done a big black pooh. They celebrated by waking me up, switching even more lights on, and then bumping me into a new nappy which they did up a bit too tight.

I decided that the best way to avoid further punishment was to pretend to be asleep.
I'm now two days old ... and as far as I know I still don't have a name. On the upside, Mummy says she's feeling much better, Dad sounds much happier than in the month before I was born, and everyone keeps telling me I'm wonderful.

Better have another kip now.

Thursday, 2 April 2009

What are they going to call me?

We're home. Which should be the big news of the day. But no. Lunchtime saw a 'lively debate' about what to call me. I knew that if I was a boy they'd call me Richard. Which, as I knew I wasn't, didn't really matter too much.

They were less sure about girls names. Mummy liked Jane and Dad liked Anna. But Dad seemed so sure that we would have a boy that he spent more time discussing whether he'd prefer Richard to play cricket or football for England than what to call his daughter.

So when Grandma Betty left the hospital asking if we had a name yet and Mum said 'no', her parting words were:
"Being Elizabeth hasn't ever got me into any trouble". I could tell she was joking, but I think Mummy must be a bit tired still. She said to Daddy:
"Don't even think it".

Daddy said: "Well it would make her a very happy woman". I think he was joking too, but you can't really tell so easily with his voice.

They then had a bit of a row. It idn't last long and then they said sorry and they'd never have another disagreement in front of me and kept cuddling each other and I think Mummy cried again.

I don't want to give the wrong impression. I've heard them spend nine months together (although my hearing wasn't great for the first half of it) and they've only ever had one big argument. It was quite a lot of sleeps ago and I'm still not sure who really caused it. Mum blamed Dad who had arrived home at four c'clock in the morning just as Mum had got to sleep after I'd spent a couple of hours doing some much needed leg exercise. I guess I should have taken a little bit of the blame.

Anyway, I don't want to be called Elizabeth. So I thought I'd let them know. I tried moving my arms about, but they were blocked by the blankets. So I cried. Mummy stopped talking immediately, looked at me and told Dad very knowingly that I must be hungry, bless her. So we spent the next five minutes with my trying not to offend her by nibbling at the milk but basically leaving most of it to run down her tummy.

In summary, whether or not they go my message, I'm not going to be named after a relative or any name that sounds like the name of anyone Dad used to go out with.
Their shortlist seems to be Emily, Daisy or Natalie.
I can't say I'm a massive fan of any of them, but I've got much more important things to worry about. Like finding that cosy space between Dad's arm and his chest and having a good old sleep.

My first morning on the outside

Last night was a disaster.
I'm finding this breast feeding thing incredibly difficult. I mean, one day I'm able to sleep when I want, eat when I want, and generally kick, kip and dream as and when, and now I'm on some routine which involves being woken up from the deepest sleep to slide around Mum's boob, hardly get a taste of her milk, and then get wrapped up so tightly in layers of white cottom that I can hardly move.

Anyway, that's enough moaning for now.

We're due to leave hospital this afternoon after the doctor has been to check on me. Yesterday there was a massive hoo ha about my being a girl and having lots of fingers and toes. Today they want to look at other stuff, like my eyes. But its so bright in this ward that I'm keeping them closed as much as possible.

I get lots of time with Mummy, who keeps saying how beautiful I am (I feel like a need a good wash), but she keeps getting interrupted by the phone. I must have heard her tell at least twenty people that I'm lovely and perfect and that I weigh two pound more than she did.

Grandma Betty came to visit this morning for the second time. No other visitors were allowed in so early. She brought a large green plant with her and Mummy raised her eyebrows at Dad when she handed it over. Mummy then went very quiet and closed her eyes too.

Dad had arrived a few minues beforehand. He was holding a big pink rabbit and when he picked me up he kept blowing into my ear. I cried. He put me on his shoulder saying I must have wind. It was uncomfortable up there. I cried some more.

Wednesday, 1 April 2009

I was born today

Well I'm here. Safe, well and, I have to admit, a little disappointed.
First of all was the birth.
And after all those classes and all the preparation an all the chat, they all forgot to mention one key fact ...
... it wasn't much fun for me either.
They got one part right. Poor old Mummy grunted and groaned and squealed and screamed. And it can't have been much fun for her.
But I was bashed and bumped and bruised. It's a pretty tight squeeze getting out of there, and there were times when I was just about ready to give up.
I didn't get any sleep for hours, and then just as I arrived in the bright place outside I finally understood what all that talk about the umbilical cord is all about. In short, it means cutting off my dinner supply.

Amyway, once I emerged, I expected all sorts of joyful scenes. But where I expected excitment and to finally understand what that champagne stuff is, you'll never guess what happened ...

... everyone started crying.

And I thought I was supposed to be the best news they've had in ages.

Dad sounded all high pitched and squeaky and not at all like I imagined. Mum was all hot and sweaty and a bit hysterical. And I spent my first few minutes on her chest with the midwife showing mum how I should get my milk, with all of them forgetting that I'd had a good feed already before I arrived.

I then got the much discussed skin-to-skin time with Daddy. That was a bit of a surprise because it felt nothing like Mummy's skin. It was all bumpy and wiry and I got a bit of it in my mouth and thought I might start choking.

Fortunately I didn't and although I can't really see anything, I started to work out whether all the listening and learning I'd done for nine months had paid off.

I have to say that things on the outside aren't quite what they're cracked up to be.
For a start, I'm wrapped up in so many blankets that I can hardly move.
The room we're in smells a bit like my old home after mummy had swallowed some toothpaste, and there are people screaming all over the place. Some of them are babies too.

Most annoyingly, its not easy to get a drink. Yesterday it was provided on tap with no effort required. Now I have to hope that Mummy can hold me at the right angle at a time when I'm feeling a bit peckish. Poor woman. It was pretty obvious in those NCT classes that she didn't have much of a clue, and she just seems a bit dazed. Dad kept saying she looked beautiful, but I'm sceptical.

Anyway, that's enough about them. Think how I feel ... I've got a funny piece of plastic olding my belly button together, my hair is covered in goo and worst of all, I've been passed around so many people that my neck aches like anything. And I've only been here about six hours.

There's some good news to report.

They've told Mummy we can go home in the morning and I can't wait to see what the room they've been preparing for me looks like.
Mummy and Daddy can't stop cuddling and kissing, which they didn't mention in NCT, and he managd to sit through the whole day without fainting or switching on that awful music mix that he spent last week putting together.

And Uncle Eddie seems nice. He arrived with a massive green bottle and a pink balloon and was the only one who left me alone for long enough to drift off to sleep.
If this sort of attention continues I'll be exhausted.

Here's to life in a hospital ward. Clean, crowded and with awful curtains (according to Grandma Betty). Not half as nice as my old place.