Week 1: bye bye Billy Ruben

We're home.

And we think we have a middle name.

After four days in the house of blue light the little Miss was making such a rapid recovery that not only were the docs saying she was {quote} remarkable" {end quote} (which, of course, she is...) ,but that she was free to trot out of the joint any time she liked.

Such a rapid turnaround from "you can't have a bath you have to go into the blue lights NOW!" left mum and dad a bit, well, stunned.

"Don't we need some more tests??"

But she was fine; well below the levels of Billy Rubin considered worrying and putting on weight like she was a bit player in Supersize Me II. (In fact, when weighed by the nurse late in day 5, she had already exceeded her birthweight by 40 grams... impressive; both by the girl and mum.)

Leaving horsepiddle would also help the ward out a tad too - they were facing a somewhat perplexing conundrum at the time - they had a) one spare bed and b) three ladies grunting out watermelons in the adjoining labour ward.

Unless they were all prepared to top and tail (and top), it was all going to end in tears.

So come Saturday morning there we were - on the steps of Sandringham District Memorial Horsepiddle (SDMH), bags in hand and lass in bag. Oh, and a little Master M who insisted that he would carry little Miss S out the door. One delicate negotiation later and it was agreed by all and sundry that Master M and dad would hang onto the handles of the rather fancy Phil & Teds papoose (thanks Sandra!) together, and walk her to the car.

She just slept.

At this juncture we just have to say how marvelous everyone was at the SDMH and especially the Special Care Nursery.

Don't tell Nicola Roxon, but after we'd spent the maximum two midnights in the ward, the nurses discharged Mistress P, admitted Miss S, and kept P in a bed as a "boarder" so she could give the little girl the attention she needed (read: be milked like a big ole guernsey cow day and night; lots of liquids being a treatment for jaundice). A boarder isn't allowed any nursing or doctor help of course,... but in reality they did looked after her like a queen even though the place was chokkas.

Thank you.

Anyway, homeward bound.

A home that appears well and truly changed.
Mostly for Mike.

See the lad is suffering from a classic case of "Hey! I was here first; pay attention to me!" syndrome.

This is generally taking the form of doing anything naughty he feels will grabs mum and dads attention.
Flicking food.
Ramming his big red (ride on) car into parents legs.
Jumping on the bed.
Licking his sisters face.
All the 2 y.o classics.

On the latter point he is genuinely excited by little Miss S. There are hugs and kisses galore, offers to play with his toys, and even attempts to feed her some of his favourite snacks.

("Sarah doesn't like Salada biscuits just yet Michael".)

He's even been helping dad out to keep the little girl awake during day.

See one of the great joys of early parenthood is the day/night lottery.

Back in mums tum they can sense light and dark, but this doesnt necessarily mean they get the circadian rhythms cranking and hence know night from day.

And if, once you're thrust into the outer-world, you have an excess of Billy Rubin and get plonked in the house of blue light in a room with no windows, well you've got Buckleys chance of your body working it out.
Hence... the day/night lottery.

Which we've lost.

Daytime = sleep.
Nightime = play.

At first dad was ok with this (the cricket was on; dont mention The Ashes), but when your longest sleep period during the night is 1.5 hours, shortest 8 minutes, by morning it can leave mum and dad, lets say, rooted.

(And not the good type either.)

So it's daytimes of constant "WAKE UP SISSY" (a-la Wiggles "Wake up Jeff!") to tire her out, sitting in sunlight to kick the endogenous processes into gear, and good feeds at regular 3 hourly intervals, the theory there being that a baby needs X calories every 24 hours, and if they don't get it during the day cos they're sleeping, they'll demand the residual at night.

For mum and dad it's sleep when you can and caffeine thereafter. But we'll survive. Just.

So. The name...

Well it was pointed out that while the middle name we have chosen is kinda old fashioned, and kinda daggy (given a Big Brother contestant who was famous for wearing bunny ears and doing a bum dance, though it's been pointed out that Miss S' peers wont care/know one iota about this), it is also the middle name of the kindest, the strongest and the most giving person dad has ever known.

His Nana.

We introduce to you, Sarah Marie Watkins. Print this post