We welcomed the lovely Vincent Gil Stephenson in a central London hospital at 0407hrs on 07/07/05after 51 hours of induction for pre-eclampsia and a heroic avoidance of intervention by yours truly for a natural delivery. Watching medics out of the corner of your eye as they unsheath weird scissors and check the clunk-click of unspecified other bits of elephant sized kit can't half add that persil power to your push.
As well as to DP, much respect and undying love to the outstandingly competent and calm midwife who stood by me through the last 6 hours.
Despite the elation and falling in love activity caused by looking at my long (52cm) and lovely (7lb 1oz my chin, dad's build) young man, I then had, as you can well imagine, a ghastly 36 hours as bombs went off in bloody mockery of all the effort and love I'd seen and felt myself while in labour. The hospital was closed to admissions and most visitors. It instantly hit a nasty staffing crisis with no transport links. DP who is now officially my all time one and all hero had narrowly passed through the bomb areas to go home after the birth and then had to walk across London back to me at lunchtime - and home again that night.
Postnatal ward in state of meltdown with no midwives. Had a terrible time there. My old nursing instincts kept me wanting to help and I did what I could but I'm still not well myself yet with BP raised and oedema just about everywhere. Vin was feeding like a fury and we left late Friday night to come home despite some pressure to stay for my health. I couldn't bear it though and still hadn't slept more than 1.5 hours a night since Sunday.
Eerie ride in a cab on our usual routes. Horrible to see the rescue vehicles till working, and my old haunts sheeted off and batteries of satellite news vans still knocking around. Streets, bars, restaurants mainly open, but mainly empty.
We had an OK Friday night except Vin now worrying me as I thought he was desperately thirsty despite feeding well and fontanels looking good. Called my mum first thing and asked her to head down early. I was crying like a leaky bucket and thought it was just hormones. I now think it was instinct. Trust it!
Vin promptly turned banana yellow before breakfast. My young prince cannot have a touch of jaundice like 80% do but must become the
yellow peril and need treatment. Probably caused by the arduous long labour.
He was admitted to another hossie's neonatal intensive care unit and responded well in 3 days to phototherapy and rehydratin. He had to lie there, be fed and watered by drip, soak up the sun lamp and generally be chilled. His mum, dad and nan sparked out with terror and tears on first sight of the place. My heart goes out to the other parents. We felt like imposters with our large bonny lad where some of their kiddies are such mini-mites:-(
Having insanely but wisely persisted with demand breast feeding from home while he was in NICU for 3 days we got one of the rare rooming-in facilities where we could pull it together quietly for a few days while they finished Vin's infection screen. We came back home Thursday pm showered with the neonatal unit?s best wishes to the extent that we almost miss them. But not quite! Vin is a charmer, and his mum has her sense of humour back, so we were good company for nurses used to preemies and their scared parents I think. He is in full-on new baby mode now: plump, voracious, loud, sleepy. His infection screen was clear so his diagnosis was severe jaundice and dehydration subsequent to long labour.
PS Things Vin aka the Whiffler aka BabyBuddha aka Babybug aka Prince Vince aka Buglet aka Bubbakins ?ad nauseum? has done for the 1st time recently:
Gone out in pram
Met (and charmed) a park wino
Spotted himself in a mirror
Had a snifter of Bollinger in his mum?s milk
Had a bath
Sucked his first cloth book
Solved world peace
OK, I lie about the last one.
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Babies and bombs
19 replies
merryberry · 18/07/2005 09:11
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dinosaur ·
18/07/2005 13:11
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