Saturday night in

It's very quiet here at the moment.

Aidan and Orla are asleep on the couch, having cunningly evaded my attempts to get them to go to sleep in their beds. I think I've lost my touch (if I ever had it!).

Orla fell asleep in my arms. Given that I can't lift her yet, this was always going to present some problems with getting her into her cot. Luckily, I had the foresight to sit on the couch rather than my favourite breastfeeding chair, so it was just a matter of wiggling out from underneath her and repositioning her cuddle rug.

Aidan wanted to stay up until Daddy got home. He was asleep within minutes, curled up next to Orla. He has since been joined by Houdini.

Brendon and Isabelle are at the ballet. This was not exactly how I had planned it. I was supposed to be 37 weeks pregnant, and this was supposed to be a special mother-daughter outing - Isabelle's first real ballet show.

I booked the tickets about an hour before my waters broke.

However, special father-daughter time is no bad thing. Neither is staying at home looking after three precious bundles (and one precious fur-bundle).

Maybe next year for the show.

Momentous events of the last 24 hours (or so)

- Ewan is TOO BIG for one of his quintuple zero outfits! (Actually I think that's due to a bulky nappy, but still, any growth is good!).
- Ewan received his first mail - notification of his paediatrician's appointment.
- I had my first hot drink in about a month (Earl Grey).
- I keep finding new grey hairs.


It was a southerly today. There was a bit of a chill in the air. The sun is setting noticeably earlier and is beginning to shine under the eaves into the lounge. It's starting to feel autumnal.

I guess summer happened during my time in hospital.

Ewan at home

Home

We are home.

Ewan is 17 days old, gestation 36 + 5. He is now almost 2.3 kg.

Thank you for your lovely comments.

Will update progress when I have the chance.

One more...

It's been a hectic few days, Ewan could not wait until his scheduled arrival on Friday 13 February. His ECG's began showing reduced activity on the 3rd, so the next day the Dr decided it would be best for him to come out. It seems his cord had become tangled around his neck.

It was Isabelle's first day back at school. We rushed out the door, kids running ahead, Grandma trailing behind, and made it right on the bell. After walking home, at a rather more sedate pace, we all set off for our routine daily hospital visit. Orla went to sleep on the way so Aidan went with Grandma to see his Mum while I took the sleeping one back home. Well it was far from a routine visit, Mary had been taken to the delivery suite and when I arrived back home there was a message posted on the door saying "ring Susan". I was needed urgently. Fortunately, Mary had eaten breakfast so the surgery could not be scheduled until 3.30pm or so, which gave me ample time to get back to the hospital.

Ewan arrived 4.55pm 4 February, at 34 weeks, 2 days and weighed 2.16kg (4lb12oz). He has made good progress these last five days and has moved from his incubator to an open cot, and his heart and breathing monitors have been removed. He is now fully breast-milk fed, with the tube fed breast milk top-ups becoming increasingly infrequent. Mary has moved, today, from the post-natal ward to one of the rooms within the unit.

Markers

Monday 2 February

Another milestone today – 34 weeks. Baby has obligingly turned head down (confirmed by scan today, although it seemed to be the consensus of most, but not all, of the many people who have palpated me recently).

My day is marked by the scheduled events of the day. Today's menu: two CTGs, blood test, scan. Eight hourly drugs, and seemingly random, but frequent observations of my temperature, pulse and blood pressure. And the meals of course. Lunch was the scene of drama with the Cold Chicken with Mayonnaise Wrap incident (where cold chicken managed to inveigle its way onto the “low listeria” vegetarian side of the menu). This was partly made up for by a rather large piece of chocolate cake. Dinner has just finished. Already I am anticipating breakfast.

(Incidentally, the “low listeria” menu has always made me chuckle. Should we presume then that there is a contrasting high listeria option? Or, more worringly still, should we feel certain that our food does contain listeria, rather than merely the risks of its presence is low?).

Another room mate has just been discharged: very good news for her, and hopefully she will be able to continue the rest of her pregnancy in relative normality. I expect that the bed will be filled again by the morning.

I have escaped from the ward a couple of times today – a quick waddle to the cafe for a newspaper, an aimless trudge around the building when I just couldn't take overhearing anyone else's medical problems any more, and a couple of sits in the chairs outside of the ward. Chairs are hard to come by sometimes, and there's only so many hours that you can sit on a bed.

Institutionalised

Sunday 1 February

Being (relatively) long stay in a hospital has given me a terrible look as to what it must be like for some people to be in a rest home. I have turned into a grumpy old man, the highlight of his day being the prospect of lamb boil-up for dinner. The rhythms of the day involve the procession of meals, drugs, and other people's visitors.

The good news is, I am still here. We reach the milestone of 34 weeks tomorrow. And by making it as far as today, we have a February baby. I am stable and baby has kindly turned head downwards rather than lying in the less stable and suboptimal footling breech position.

Orla has grown up already in my absence. Last night I heard the lovely call of “can't catch me!” echoing down the corridor towards my room. In she came, to tell me “I wear big girl pants”, showing me her trainers. Aidan has a two-wheeler bike – he can now ride alongside his sister and friend. Isabelle seems quiet, the school year just around the corner.

I am touched that, reportedly, the cat is missing me.

33 +3

Day three of incarceration. Another day on the inside is good.

My waters broke on Monday afternoon at 33 weeks. To the hospital. Bloods, ultrasound, IV antibiotics, course of steriods, swab. More bloods. Twice daily CTGs. Oral antibiotics. See midwives, junior junior doctor, senior junior doctor, consultant, ward doctor, social worker, lactation consultant, anaesthetist, still to see the paeds. I am now here for the duration, hoping to get an extra two weeks of growth and maturity before the inevitable premature delivery.

I am in a four-bed unit in the old women's hospital – everyone moves over to the brand new one in a couple of weeks. I may or may not be part of that move. Being in a four-bed unit is not ideal, but the ward is chocka full, and it is better that those who are fresh from theatre or who are learning to breastfeed have the single and double rooms. It is also not ideal that the ante and post-natal wards are one and the same place. It is not the crying of the healthy, full-term newborns around me that is upsetting, just the reminder of what I cannot share. It was especially hard to share the room with two newborns – luckily only for one day until other places were found.

I've had a procession of room mates. Some are quiet. Some have cell phones that ring at twenty to seven in the morning, and lap tops to watch movies with at 10.00 at night (sans headphones). Some have extended families around for picnic lunches around the bed. Some are bright and breezy. Others are troubled, anguished, facing hard times. Mostly just ordinary people together briefly by circumstance.

I am being well looked after – monitored fairly closely, but it does pay to be a squeaky wheel if you want anything. The demands on the staff seem fairly large – there are a lot of people on the ward all with different issues and it would be very easy for something to slip through.

The children seem to be coping well with the support of family and friends. It's too hard to think about them too much.

I am trying to find the balance between not thinking or worrying about what I cannot change, and making reasonable plans for various possible outcomes. I am trying to not even think too much about the time to come in neonates. Trying to skip forward however number of weeks I need to skip forward until we are all home.