Wednesday 29 August 2018

The Baby That Came! Part 1 - The Build Up


Hello! Long time no speak! Now don't get on to me... I KNOW I haven't posted anything for a while, (over 4 months now!) but I have the best excuse ever. I've become a daddy. A surprise daddy. And as the little bundle of joy turned up unexpectedly we had zero provisions to cope with his arrival and zero room to house all of the new provisions we needed to look after him properly. The past quarter of a year, (WOW, it doesn't feel that long but typing it really does put the time frame in to perspective) we have been buying cars, renewing rental agreements to make sure we have a stable environment to bring the little fella up in, dismantling and selling furniture, buying and building other furniture, sorting out and setting up bank accounts and ISAs, chasing government tax relief and benefit payments, (I can see why people see having babies as a career choice as the money doled out is ridiculous) making sure everyone who wants to meet the new arrival gets the chance in what little time we have when I'm not working and we even managed to fit in a Summer holiday! (Booked and paid for pre-baby so we had no choice but to slog the 10 week old along with us. Thankfully it was a UK based holiday.)  Things have now started to slow down for us all and I can finally start to put my thoughts to paper, (or PC) and I think due to the fact we have no pre-birth photos, scans or baby shower memories etc. getting this all down while it is still relatively fresh in my mind is a must. I feel I owe it to both ourselves as parents and maybe even to our son who might come across this at some point in the future to record my view of the whole situation to be able to reflect upon... and maybe even laugh a little at a later point.

O.K.

So I think this is going to be a big entry in it's entirety. There is a LOT of ground to cover both before and after the birth and although I could give you a 5000 word blow by blow account of the experience and the aftermath of the event I feel breaking it down in to two, (maybe three) moderately sized chunks will work out better for everyone.


So here goes:

The last 4 months have been the craziest, happiest, stressful and emotional months of my life... and I wouldn't change them for the world!

Just in case you aren't subscribed to my Youtube channel, (although you really should be as it's AWESOME) and you're not aware of my circumstances I have become the proud Father of a bouncing baby boy. Now that in itself is kind of unremarkable I admit; I understand thousands of babies are born every day... but here's the twist in my little story: neither myself nor my partner knew she was pregnant. (I used to refer to my significant other as my girlfriend but nowadays with us being parents it doesn't seem permanent enough a title!) And once again, you're probably saying "C'mon Padge, lots of people don't find out they're pregnant straight away and sometimes not until they're just about to drop!" and once again you'd be right. But rather than months, weeks or even days warning we had from diagnosis to birth the grand total of 6 hours notice.



6 hours.

I thought that warranted repeating! I might even put it in bold AND italics for effect...

So as you might expect there is a story leading up to this moment of blind panic and heartfelt joy, and like all good stories in my life they start at my partner and I's favourite place in the world: Weston-Super-Mare.



Well, if we're going to get technical it actually started 2 days before on the Friday. (20th April 2018 if you're wondering!) After a hard weeks slog selling plugs and sockets to the masses I arrived home from work and I'm greeted to a rather flustered girlfriend who has been suffering from severe stomach cramps for the entirety of the day. Now, this in itself is usually a worrying symptom for anyone to have out of the blue, but this ailment was occurring at the end of a contraceptive cycle where bleeding and cramps kick in as the other half's girly bits whirl back in to action after being left dormant for the past 3 months since the last hormone injection. (Yes, you're correct in what you're thinking. She did have contraceptive injections throughout her pregnancy so generally you'd think there would be nothing to worry about... Did you know the injection is only 92% effective? That percentage has been seared in to my brain since I found that out!) While we're learning things here's another thing you probably don't know about me: I LOVE walking, (my partner not so much but she tolerates it/me) and after a full week finished at work coupled with the fact it had been an incredibly warm and sunny day we decided to go on one of our favourite routes down to and along the river, in to the basin and around the docks where narrow boats are moored, then back through a large park area where there are miniature railway tracks installed for enthusiasts to bring their engines down and tow carriages full of children along on bank holiday weekends. (Sounds quaint, doesn't it?!) Well, this journey on a good day would take us about an hour at a reasonable pace along with the occasional stop to grab a Pokemon, (don't ask) but on this particular attempt we had to give up after staggering about a third of the distance after an hour and a half. You probably have me pictured as some sort of brute wielding a whip over my harangued girlfriend who's in agony forcing her to frog march against her will but frequently, (every 200 meters or so... whenever she creased over in pain) I kept asking her if she wanted to turn around, but due to her strong will, (or stubbornness) and her high pain threshold, (she played women's rugby) she was adamant she wanted to carry on. We eventually returned home and she went for a long hot shower, (we have no bath) which seemed to ease the pain for her to a more tolerable level.

Saturday, (21st April) was a fairly uneventful day with the other half admitting that the pain had eased a little and she was on the downward slope to her lady bits getting back in order, so with that in mind we went on and did what we usually do most Saturdays, visit my Nan with fish and chips for a catch up and hope to get back home before 6pm for a evening of movies and nibbles. At this point I should probably make you aware that April for myself personally is a very busy and expensive month with Birthdays of my Mum, Nan, girlfriend, girlfriends Dad and Brother in law to allocate money and/or attention to, (and now my Son, thanks kid.) and that Sunday, (22nd April) was our only free day in the entirety of the month to go to our favourite place in the world, Weston-Super-Mare. Being the kind and considerate boyfriend that I am, (well, most of the time anyway) it was at this point in the weekend in between whichever movies we were watching where I turned to my significant other and asked her if she still wanted to go to our home away from home. "YES." she said rather abruptly. She said it with such vigor while looking me straight in the eyes that I knew she wouldn't take no for an answer and I've learnt over the many years of being with her that when she speaks about anything with such conviction it is pointless arguing with her. So we got up early and preceded to drive to Brean Down for a slow walk along the beach before heading to the local arcades and then along the coast to Weston where we hit the shops, more arcades and the pier, (one big arcade/amusement centre) a walk along the promenade to Birnbeck, (the old pier which has fallen in to disrepair) and then finishing off with a cheeky Nandos before the drive home. Over the course of the day we walked just over 7 miles, and all with the girlfriend's lady bits giving her as much hassle as they had given her on the Friday before.



The drive home was pretty uneventful until we were about 20 minutes away from where we live. It was at this point where the stomach pains were getting intense, to the point where she couldn't even sit in the passenger seat comfortably any more, so the missus spent the last 15 miles in various positions any contortionist would have been proud of. As soon as we pulled up to the house the other half leapt out of the car like a lethargic gazelle and went straight inside to start the only thing which had eased her back ache up to this point, a hot shower, whereas I retired to the relative safety of my PC to catch up on the day's events and watch the odd video on YouTube. It was about 30 minutes later while watching a video that I could hear this moan emanating from our kitchen over the sound coming from my closed back headphones... which means she was loud. After dropping tools instantly, (well, carefully placing them down anyway... they were expensive!) I went to the kitchen to see my significant other, hands clasped to the kitchen worktop with a vice-like grip bent over in pain. I asked her if she had had a hot shower yet to which she replied yes and it had not helped in the slightest. This got me worried. It was 10:30pm on a Sunday night and the missus who can usually take being ran in to by women twice her size and triple her weight, (it' a rugby thing) was creased up and close to sobbing, something I've never seen her do in the nine and a half years we had been together. Naturally I wanted to race her to accident and emergency to get her seen to within the next 6 hours, (if we're lucky... good old NHS) but the girlfriend was insistent on phoning 111 to see what the medically unqualified operator had to say, (ahem) and after 10 minutes of wincing in pain and going through the set questionnaire, (the first question being "are you pregnant" to which the answer was "I don't think so as I'm on the contraceptive injection") we were instructed to go to our nearest A&E department. After a fraught drive to hospital and (eventually) finding a parking space in the poor excuse of an area they like to call a car park even in off-peak hours, (another rant for another time) I helped my girlfriend in to the hospital where we were processed quickly by the receptionist and then asked to find a seat among a sea of aches, pains, breaks, cuts and, (no doubt) communicable diseases. The problem now though was my significant other couldn't sit down and if the hospital was going to be typically British about their queuing system, (first come, first served) then we would have hours to wait before being seen by someone. It was here, sitting in the waiting room watching the occasional nurse coming to the front and calling someone's name while my better half is all knotted up inside and can't sit down, where the enormity of the situation started to dawn on me. We were both prone to being ill every so often, but apart from a couple of procedures we've both had since being together, (a lump removed from my neck and her tonsils removed) neither of us have been particularly ill to the point of hospitalization. That added to the fact my partner is adopted and knows nothing about her family medical history and the acceleration of her condition over the past couple of hours lead me to believe there was something seriously wrong, life threatening even. It was while I was caught within this whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that a nurse who hadn't reared her head at the front of the waiting room before made a bee line for my loved one and then proceeded to help her through the doors and in to a cubicle where a gaggle of nurses were waiting for her. They were all running around setting up drips and peeling back the crisp, clean and slightly over starched bed sheets before helping her get in to as much a horizontal position on the bed as she could muster.

The next moment I'll remember for the rest of my life. A slightly older nurse compared to the rest of the ladies whirling around my lady approached us and asked,

"So are you ready to have your baby?"

Our response, almost in unison was,

"What?"



All the sounds of the emergency room drained from my ears whilst I contemplated both the question being asked and the response I was going to give. Thankfully, (in one regard anyway) we were not given a lot of time to fully take in the moment, (or let the blind panic set in) as it was at this time the girlfriend's water broke and we were escorted to a birthing suite. She was DEFINITELY pregnant and she was DEFINITELY going to give birth!



I think that's a good place to leave this part, I'll pick it back up from here in the next few weeks detailing what I can remember of the birth itself, (a lot of it is a blur but I'll try to recall the less graphic details for next time) as well as the media sensation which our son turned out to be... but that will be for part 2.

Again, I am sorry about not tending to this blog for so long but to put a thought to paper in the context I want to hasn't been priority recently and although entries from here on in will be sporadic they shouldn't die off all together. See you in part 2.

Thanks once again for taking the time to read this and hopefully I'll see you next time!

Scott.


Check Out My Youtube Channel: www.YouTube.com/PalicoPadge

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