What a Difference a Sleep Makes

This morning both Isobel and I got out of the bed the wrong side.

I was tired and emotional and Isobel was just tired, too tired to get herself to sleep and too tired to let me rock her to sleep.

So we went for a walk in the sunshine. I walked for 2 hours, she slept for 2 hours. The things we saw that made us happy:

People hiring row boats on the river;

A gondola pulled up on Twickers beach by the White Swan;

Children playing in the park;

Adults sleeping in the park;

Isobel smiling in her sleep.

Then we came home to play.

Time On My Hands

With Isobel's newly extended feed cycle of somewhere between 2 1/2 and 3 hours, I find I have a little more time on my hands.

I could spend this time scouring the papers to bring myself up-to-date on current affairs; I could mow the lawn; I could even tidy-up a little more.

But I'd much rather eat biscuits and read a trashy magazine. (Note a recurring theme: biscuits!)

Besides that, I kind of miss her.

Too Busy to Take Pictures

A heavenly weekend with an Angel Baby who is now 7 weeks old.

Just spent it hanging out with PD, pottering about. At last he got to see what a pleasure our daughter is, and how lovely life is with her in it.

I think we even made her Godfather broodie when we had lunch in the pub with him on Sunday; a lovely silly afternoon of perfect pints and even more perfect roast potatoes.

Me, Myself and Mummy

I have taken to referring to myself in the third person.

That personal commentary that often ran in my head is now voiced out loud and is generally about someone called Mummy. And I tell you 'Mummy' is quite busy:

'Mummy is just going to have a cup of tea'.

'Mummy is going to put your cardigan on now'

'Ooh is there a nice yellow poo in there for Mummy, isn't Mummy lucky'

You get the picture.

Hooray, at last an excuse for talking to yourself - child development!

Overtired?

Overtired is when your baby decides that sleep is the enemy and must be avoided at all costs; refusing sleep until they no longer know what sleep is and neither do you.

Only solution: settle down for an afternoon of English village crime drama while cuddling said baby. (It's tough but someone has to do it!)

Failing that, take a walk.

(I recommend the former, it works best if Mum has a plentiful supply of tea and biscuits)

What is a 'Growth Spurt'?

A growth spurt is when your child wants boob constantly - a bit like a man.

Things Change So Quickly

I've just been flicking through PD's photoblog and as much as the pictures make me smile, they make me a little sad too.

I cannot believe how quickly our little baby is growing up.

If she has changed so much in six weeks, how will I ever keep up?

(Especially as we are heading for a growth spurt. I wonder if I'm having one too because I seem to be super hungry as well - step away from the biscuits!)

Confession of a slummy Mummy No. 32

I've just let my baby fall asleep in her bouncy chair.

We seem to have got so caught up making sure she sleeps and doesn't get overtired we'd forgotten to enjoy her playing and let her just nod off!

Six Weeks and a Valuable Lesson Learnt

When I was pregnant I loved buying and reading books about babies. Not so much for the information but to wallow in the amazing fact that I was pregnant, yes me, having a baby. Wow.

Now that seems to be all a little too much information.

Being a parent seems to have become all about 'shoulds', books tell you should do this and not that, and none of them agree. Advice is offerred and the 'should's are often tempered with 'try', all this advice comes from the heart and is well intentioned and I know it is up to me to take it or leave it.

Right now I think I need to 'leave it' a while. I've packed away the books because my instincts cannot be heard over the sound of all those 'shoulds'.

There is no greater body of knowledge than a mothers instinct. Here's to getting to know my baby a little more every day.

Fannying Around

While I fanny around in the bedroom getting dressed in the morning, Isobel is busy learning to focus, track and anticipate objects, all while listening to classical music.

Yes, she is playing with her mobile.

Thank you Freeview - you know who you are. x

The Greats

This week Isobel met some of my favouritist people.

She met her Great Auntie Gada and Great Uncle Birdie who I'm sure will provide many new names and hours of entertainment for her just like they did for me; it was always fun at their house.

Very, very importantly Isobel visited Great Grandad and Great Grandad-Grandma (so named because she is the Grandma that lives with Grandad).

My Grandparents were always my rock and 5 High was always my true north, but now they are shrinking. So, it means the world to me to have this picture:

Hopefully we have many sunny days to spend at the beach hut with them.

Maybe we'll even take a dip

(These pictures were taken in 2002, but they still swim and spend most of the summer at the hut, they just use scooters to get there.)

My Family and Other Animals

Isobel has been reunited with her Grandma, last seen when she was 3 days old

Her Uncle Dan forgave her for being the third neice and not a nephew

My sister, Auntie Amy, and Isobel's cousin Isla were pleased to see us

And cousin Hayley baked chocolate cakes

and wrote a card for her.

As for the other animals, well there is plenty of time for great dane riding.

(We also had a girly lunch with Godmother Jen, but Isobel slept through it)

Sometimes it's Hard...

... not to cry when my baby cries; when her bottom lip quivers, her chin wobbles and her eyes are wet with, what will one day be, real tears, mine are too.

... to know I'm not hurting her when she screams for seamingly no reason.

... to remember that I'm not a bad Mummy and that she is...

a baby.

And babies cry.

Who's your Daddy

Isobel must think she has three Daddies:

One wears glasses...

One Doesn't...

And one has a stonking great black thing on his face:

But she still loves him.

We'll miss you PD x

Snowy Sunday

It's a snowy Sunday here in London Town and my daughter is dressed as a very cool beatnik:

Perhaps we should move to Paris .

(Thank you Great Aunt Liz x)

Our Fifth Week

I wouldn't neccessarily say I feel that much wiser at the end of week five.

I wouldn't say things are any easier, I think Mum's are built to worry at least a little, and babies are built to test, at least a little.

But I wouldn't say we are having any less fun either, we have a lovely life of strolls and meetings for coffee (mostly decaf - of course).

In fact mornings are our favourites. Here is our yesterday morning:

Smiles and giggles for Mummy

Then coffee and pottery painting with Godmother Chirsty and Alfie

A pram is a much better walking companion than a dog: it carries your shopping and you don't have to scoop the poop.

(What should have been) Slummy Mummy Confession No. 1

In the (unnecessarily) judgemental world of motherhood I have committed a sin.

In this age of environmental awareness and global warming, I have committed a bigger sin.






I use disposable nappies!

I know according to many I should be struck down. I did, albeit briefly, consider using re-usables but I'm afraid I succumbed to the convenience of disposables. Yes I know there are nappy services, and yes I know that re-usables are quite good these days but no, I didn't tread that path.

I do use quite environmentally friendly disposables though, promise. (Isobel's bottom also prefers these - she is a real princess after all.)

Hiccoughs

One thing Isobel has been consistent about ever since she was just a Bobbit is the Hiccoughs; she bounced around inside my tummy and now...



Poor thing, she often wakes herself up with them, but rest assured no Isobels were harmed in the making of this video - she doesn't get distressed.

Twilight Barking

If most babies are niggly in the evenings is it like the Twilight Barking in 101 Dalmations?

The Witching Hour

It has to be said evenings aren't Isobel's favourite time.

She enjoys her bath, that much is true. But, otherwise, she could very well shout the whole evening through.

Unfortunately for PD this the only time he gets to see his darling daughter - not ideal for bonding.

I think the witching hour is actually 5-6 though: whatever Isobel does then sets the tone - if she doesn't take a nap it is unlikely that she will until ten.

Slummy Mummy Confession No. 23

I just wiped my baby's mouth with a breast pad.

The Proof is also in The Red Book

Isobel's life is documented in red books: my red diary logs the time and duration of her feeds, and her Red Book Health Record has everything medical.

Today, for the first time * we went to clinic to be weighed and to add an entry to the Red Book.

Isobel now weighs 4.12kgs (9.1lbs). PD calls her chunky, the Red Book says she's average.

I know the truth: she is beautiful and far from average.

I am relieved to know her 7-10 minute feeds are more than adequate, am no longer worried my milk isn't 'good enough'; most of all I'm happy to know she is a healthy growing girl who has moved from 25th percentile to 50th. (The Red Book also contains graphs.)

Me, I can fit in my skinny jeans, do them up and sit down, but it isn't comfy!

* I was a little worried about not knowing the form and looking foolish and being judged as a bad Mother. Silly, but it was a similar kind of anxiety I get meeting people in a bar I don't know or going to any strange place really, but with higher stakes.

The Proof isn't in the Pudding, it's in the Poo

I never thought there would be a time in my life when poo would be so important to me.

Not only do I change nappies, I check the contents for colour and texture: bright yellow in abundance is good, and green and seedy, while not bad is less good.

Bright yellow means her speedy guzzling is still delivering hind milk, green means she could possibly feed for longer.

Poo is very important, so important I am often to be found writing emails about it.

It started So Well

Sunday started out bright and sunny all round, after a fractious Saturday afternoon and evening with a litlle girl who, although overtired, refused to sleep, we needed a sunny Sunday.

Isobel and I went for our regular stroll and Daddy came too.

We stopped for coffee and chatted. We actually had a non-baby conversation, like real people do.

Baby still asleep we strolled along the river, stopped to sit outside the White Swan and enjoy a sunny sunday tipple. Just like real people.

Simple pleasures.

The afternoon started well with a little girl happily playing then dozing off in her beanbag.



PD went off to watch the football (his simple pleasure).

Then she got overtired again; she cried again; dinner was eaten one handed again; so we all went to bed at the same time, again.

One Month and I Think The Feeling is Mutual

I'm sitting on my bed, wearing a t-shirt with a target shaped milk stain on my right breast, typing this one handed because my other arm is occupied by my beautiful little girl who is watching me intently.

I have written several times about how much time I spend gazing at her, well, at last it seems to be mutual. Over the last 10 days Isobel seems more awake and more focused and I'm proud to say much of that focus seems to be on me! I think she really knows who her Mummy is.

(A good example of this is the bathtime picture posted on PD's blog yesterday: Isobel loves her bath and normally is fascinated by the blue and white tiles that surround it, last night while PD focused his camera on her, she, in turn, only had eyes for me.)

Four weeks ago with a lot of shouting and not a lot of pushing Isobel arrived; four weeks ago I still had a social life; four weeks ago I still sent flirty emails. Now, well now I write emails about poo and consider a social life actually spending an evening on the settee with PD.

Would I change it? No, not on your Nelly. Not even when she is screaming; not even when I think her heart is about to break with real tears and everything; not even when I just don't know how to comfort her.

It's not always easy but I'm sure it is always worth it.

Poorly Sick

Isobel and I will mostly be spending the day at home today, moving quietly from bed to settee. We may even stay in our pjs.



I'm sick, she's snuffly* and, let's face it, it will a perfect day for Isobel as Mummy will be available all day for cuddles. (Obviously, this is not a great sacrifice for me - it makes up for not being able to take Night Nurse)

*I have placed a towel under her crib mattress to raise her head and the snuffly-creaky-door noises coming from her crib are slightly quieter.

Evening

Ah, at last a whole evening stretched ahead as we had, unusually, settled Isobel in bed by 8 o'clock.

Unfortunately, as I'm poorly sick I was in bed by ten past.

(I started the day with the snuffles and a swollen neck but I went about my business with a pocket full of tissues. By the afternoon I felt like I'd been hit by a lorry: I ached all over and even my aches ached.)

Hair Today ...

... gone tomorrow.

Yes, I'm referring to Isobel's receding hairline. Poor thing has inherited that from PD and although she still has more hair than he does, she is definitely thinning on top.

All that lovely (surprisingly) dark hair she was born with...

... is going and waiting to be replaced with the fair (and heaven help us, ginger hair) we are expecting.

I can't bring myself to trim her hair, even if in some lights she does resemble Barry from Eastenders.


(Pictures courtesy of PD's Photoblog)

A Proper Person

Today we registered Isobel's birth and thus the fact that we are indeed a family.


We just hope Isobel finds us more inspirational than our occupations.

Mornings

It may constitute spoiling, but I'm sure it can't do any harm.

I'm not the only one who loves our morning cuddles in bed:

Into the Groove Baby

We had lost Isobel's rhythm, but today we are back in the groove.

We have successfully kept to our two hourly pattern and I have managed, equally successfully, to talk Isobel out of an overtired screaming rant.

So successful have we been we have even braved the snow to meet friends in the pub for lunch. In the company of a banging but adorable 16 month old, surrounded by other screaming children and political-ranting adults, Isobel chilled. Martin, Faye and Nicholas, and Gary and Javier joined us for our first family lunch outing.

She fed, she slept and she pooed. We ate and PD drunk. All must have been good as Isobel didn't need to shout at her parents once!

We are all ready for bed and it's only 8:30.

Who's Counting - Three Weeks

Isobel is three weeks old. We are just about heading into our fourth week and, as every week has been very different, I'm wondering what surprises this one will hold.

Isobel is adorable, but she can also be a little trying and we really are trying to be the perfect parents (well, just parents I suppose).

She spent her three week anniversary getting overtired and refusing to sleep, and then the rest of the day asleep on Mummy (which I must admit, just between you and me, I did enjoy; it's nice being needed, and it broke my heart a little seeing her take milk from a bottle).

As my Mummy said to me this morning 'Children and Dogs (she has 2 Great Danes) make liars of you: just when you think you have a nice routine, they change.' This is certainly true this weekend.

But I'm sure there will be far bigger challenges in the years ahead, and while we are learning to parents, Isobel is learning to be Isobel.

x

Express Yourself

Last night I unpacked my steriliser, and this morning I fired up my breast pump.

Look at what I produced - I'm quite proud.

The dairy is open for business.



Whilst we are talking about self-expression, I suspect Isobel wishes she could dress herself today. I am afraid she is wearing an embarrassing outfit and I'm ashamed to say I bought it. I will describe it to you - she'd never forgive a picture - but first I must mount my defence, it looked better on the hanger than it sounds and on a cold blowy day in London Town it is toasty warm.

Ok, it's a GAP white velour babygro with pink and red spots.... I know, what was I thinking.

Feeding On Demand

Just a note to remind all Mums that on-demand feeding only works in one direction.

Today we had an 11:20 appointment and if Isobel was following her 2 hour cycle she would need feeding at 11, just the time we needed to leave.

Me, being an evil Mummy thought I could stir Isobel 10 mnutes early so she would feed before we left the house.

BIG mistake.

She stirred; she even half-heartedly fed. Then I went to put her coat on...

She was sick.

Yes, she rewarded my ingenuity by vommiting all over both of us. So we were late anyway!

Life's Unfair

When both your parents post unflattering pictures of you on the same day.

Sorry my pretty little girl. x

Stupor

After a feed Isobel often resembles a dunken old man:

She gains an extra chin to dribble on.....

And passes out.

I am happy

I have just re-read a couple of posts from last week and realised I may have given the impression that I am constantly curled up in a heap crying. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I am still loving being a Mum and feel incredibly privileged that Isobel chose me to be her Mummy. I still find it a wonder and a delight*. I'm fascinated by her and could gaze at her all day just to revel in how beautiful and perfect she is, and be amazed that we created this little tiny human being.

I don't think we are doing too badly: she gets herself to sleep (mostly), she feeds well (and fast) and is really good in the night.

With a lot of love and a little luck hopefully we can conquer the niggles.


* Even when, at 6 o'clock this morning my darling daughter decided to cover my pj trousers, her changing mat and everything in between (i.e bed and floor) in bright yellow poo. I am sure PD loved being roused by me asking for help because I was covered in sh.t. (He did laugh - I knew I shouldn't have written that she saved this trick for Daddy.)

What Do I Know

I've been a Mum for two weeks now.

Does that make me an expert? No.

Does it mean I can offer advice? I hope I wouldn't be so presumptious.

Does it mean I know my own child? ..... Sometimes; but other times when she cries for seemingly no reason, I'm not so sure.

But I do promise Isobel I will get to know you better, and I will always do all I can to help you be happy - maybe then we both will cry a little less.

Draught Please Barman

Today we met up with two of our NCT friends, a shortage of space in local cafes led us to the pub - it was the only place that had room for prams, honest.

So, that was a first, the first time we had met up as Mums with our babies and it was quite cool to compare notes. It was also funny to discover that while our babies are little individuals they do have an awful lot in common. Disappointing to know that those little expressive faces Isobel pulls are pulled by other babies too - although they obviously don't do it so prettily!

Another first for me was that I breastfed in public! It was something that I had worried a little about, I'd even bought a down-with-the-kids scarf as a foil, not that I had it with me today. Anyway, faced with a hungry baby I did what was neccessary. Funnily enough Nia was brave enough too. We had all previously joked about going out dressed as fresians to manage this feat on mass.

So, three little friends met for the first time. (Jasper was there too but he and his amazingly wild hair stayed asleep in his pram.)

Hopefully next Thursday we will all be there again.

All By Myself

Yesterday for the first time in nine months I went out all by myself. If you think about it, for the last nine months Isobel has been my constant companion.

Ok, for most of that we-two-were-one, but nonetheless I was never truely on my own. And I suspect for the comng months Isobel will be with me pretty much all the time, certainly while I'm breastfeeding.

So I only went to Waitrose to do a neccessity shop, but as it's a pretty mindless activity it still left me time to ponder being on my own. Is it something I crave? Not yet.

But Not Alone

Having such a close knit NCT group has been a God send. It's so nice to know that there is nothing I need to go through alone.

We all do things differently it seems, and all our babies are different (as you would hope!). But we all have some things in common.


After my exhaustion driven melt down into tears yesterday evening (no daytime naps for 2 days had taken it's toll!) it is good to know I'm not the only one who needs an 'afternoon nap to avoid evening hormonal tears' - thank you Nia.

It's not that I can't cope, or that I'm sad about being a Mum, I was just tired and in need of TLC and general reassurance. (Let's face it who doesn't want those things hormonal or not.)

Far Out Hippie Chick

One of Isobel's favourite spots is her pram. It's just as well as this where she has most of her daytime naps and obviously is her main form of transportation.

She is as happy in it awake as asleep...


... we think it is the effect of the flowers, man.

Weigh To Go Isobel!

Hooray, Isobel has regained her birth weight and a little for good measure!

She is such a clever girl.



Hooray for me because I'm back in my old jeans - ok so maybe not my 'skinny' jeans, but my non-elasticated pre-pregnancy jeans all the same.

Spot the Mistake

Yes, that's right - in our house baby wears the hair.

All Girls Together

PD has gone back to work today, leaving Isobel and I to play on our own, and me with strict instructions to SLEEP.

I'm feeling quite proud: by 11 o'clock we were both dressed and the bed was made. Baby girl was back in her crib, sleeping prettily...

She still is, I'm just waiting, eagerly with baited breasts, for her to wake up.

It was cool last week us all being together, and not just because PD does the lion's share of nappy changes; it was good just hanging out together in our little family.

Yellow...

(2 seemingly random posts only linked by a colour)

... Dots

At NCT class we were given little yellow dots to stick in places to remind us to do our pelvic floor exercises (you know, on the kettle so you do them while making a cuppa). If it wasn't so very wrong I'd pop one on my daughter's forehead and then I'd be bound to restore myself to virginal proportions.


... Poo

Yes Isobel, our little angel, could poo for Britain (or SA for that matter). Bright yellow mustard poo, that leaves her little bottom at such velocity it can leave a trail four feet across a white bedroom and still make a mark four feet up the wall. (I have resisted taking a picture - she'd never forgive me!)

This trick is usually left for an unsuspecting PD who has, with his lightening reflexes, managed to step out of the way on more than one occasion.

Happy One Week Birthday

My daughter is now a whole week old, a whole week more delightful and I'm a whole week more in love.

It has been a fantastic week, my best ever. I really wouldn't have believed it would be possible to have so much love for one little person, even after a broken nights sleep I am still excited to see her in the morning, and every morning it is like Christmas. I'm a very lucky Mummy.

We have managed to overcome a few difficulties: my rock hard boobies were softened with hot flannels; my lack of confidence over breastfeeding (no-one has shown me how) has gone since she is a happy growing baby who in no way is screaming hungry; the pressure of a slight, and I mean very slight case of jaundice and the further need to feed her more; the pain of contraction like after pains every time I fed her that left me crying for parecetamol and ibuprofen - these have gone now.

I have been emotional, crying because I was worried I wasn't feeding my baby properly, crying because the cleaner hadn't cleaned the oven, crying because she is SOOO beautiful, but I'm not sure I'd call this 'the baby blues' (yet).

We are left with a patch of niggliness from little Isobel in the evenings that has left us flumoxed as to how to soothe her, but I'm sure we'll figure it out.

Otherwise, Isobel has established a lovely predictable rhythm that even makes my nights a breeze: She feeds for about 10 minutes (a bit of a guzzler), has a brief doze, nappy change and maybe a play before sleeping, only requiring feeding again 2 hours later. At night she wakes every 2 / 2 1/2 hours, but wakes so gently I can feed her in bed, change her and return her to her crib within about 40 minutes and without stirring PD, we fall asleep instantly ready to meet again 2 hours later.

So, our first week as a little family has left us thinking...

Isobel you ROCK. xxx

(I am aware that all this may change, but leave us in blissful ignorance for now)

Just a Little Prick...

well, that's what they said.

Offer her some breast, they said - she'd just fed so she wasn't interested. I held her close; they did their heel prick test.

She screamed... and screamed... and screamed some more.

I cried... and cried... and cried some more.

She just hasn't been so happy and content today, so we've spent the day chilling and cuddling.

Hopefully tomorrow she will get her rhythm back.

Mother and Daughter Chats

It's funny, although Isobel is now just about 5 days old I find myself wanting to use words like 'always' when describing things. Like, Isobel always wakes up gently; or we always have a cuddle in with Mummy and Daddy in the morning. It does feel like she has 'always' been with us.

I do spend an extraordinary amount of time just gazing with amazement at the wonder that is our little girl and chatting to her. I find all her expressions fascinating, especially when she seems to purse her lips to say oooh seeming to copy me. (I know this isn't the case yet, but I am a smitten new mum.)



Imagine how upset I was to find out that the fact that Isobel 'always' seems to get niggly in the early evening, may be down to the overstimulating nature of said chats! Yes, last night when I took her from Daddy, who was seemingly ignoring her while watching TV, I may have interrupted her peace.


Now I knew I was intelligent but I didn't realise my chats were so high brow.

Rubber Duck

Another first: this evening we gave Isobel her first bath.





Obviously with the aid of a rubber duck.

Outings and Outfits

While I was looking the other way (probably gazing adoringly at my little girl - which takes up an extraordinary amount of my time), someone has put a pair of hot rock hard melons in my bra!

Meanwhile, we went on our first family outing today; we we went all the way to Waitrose. PD and I even had coffee and cake.

Isobel was more impressed with her outfit than the trip - she slept all the way through it.

Thank you Grandma

My mummy has been looking after us, and it's been nice having her around for these first few days, and not just because she cooks amazing rare roast beef and yorkshire puddings.

It's funny how, whatever your relationship with your mummy is like, there are times when you just want her to be there.

I hope my little girl feels the same way about me...

Thank you mummy. xx

Isobel's Home

We came home Sunday afternoon, 26 hours after we arrived at the hospital and it seems like Isobel has always been with us.

Did we ever sleep all night...

Please look at PD's Photoblog. (Proud Dad, previously known as Reluctant)

Elvis is in the Building

Actually it's a far bigger star than Elvis; Isobel Grace arrived yesterday at 5:20pm and both parents are smitten.

It started as any normal Saturday, except perhaps that RD and I were revelling in the fact that it might be one of our last Saturday lie-ins. At 9am while we were enjoying said lie-in, we both felt something 'break'; yes you guessed it, it was my waters.

Somewhere between trickles and dramatic gushes we had showers and wandered of to the hospital to be checked. As I wasn't having contractions we didn't even pack the bags in the car - we'd do that when we came home for breakfast.

At about 10:30, in Labour Triage my contractions started, after a scary dip in baby's heartbeat, and while I was still merrily breathing my way through my contractions RD was dispatched to get bags. While he was away things really started to kick off, he returned to find me leaning over a ball having a rather annoying tens machine applied. This was quickly dismissed in favour of gas and air - laughing gas, unfortunately the giggles didn't last long.

At 2cm, with a 'paper thin' cervix and a very low baby's head, I was shuffled off to the bath, dragging my trusty gas and air along with me. The bath didn't do the trick, so much for my 'Natural Water Birth' ideas.

I very politely, and I mean politely, I said please and everything, requested drugs. The midwife examined me and tried to reassure me that the worst was over - lies, lies, LIES.

Anyway, we trouped of to the labour suite at about 4pm, just as my Mummy arrived. Meptid was administered, but I was already shouting for the hard stuff - again politely (I believe I only swore once!).

Poor RD and Mummy at this point I really wasn't asking for any help, all that lovely massage oil I'd packed for back rubs between contractions, well there was no between contractions and all I wanted to do was chew on my gas and air and grip hold of the bed. But I was glad they were there.

The dishy anaesthetist arrived with the drugs - I've never been so pleased to see anyone in my life. As he set everything up and I tried to hold still, the midwife had a quick check of how things were going...

Baby's head was already there; the midwife fought off the anaesthetist and 3 or 4 pushes later Isobel Grace was born at 5:20pm.

(Thank heavens for the cone head design of a baby's head. )

Yes she was a little sticky, yes her head was a little coney, but she was beautiful. RD was moved.

I held her and fed her while we waited for the placenta; RD cut the cord and then she really was her own little person, but our little person at the same time.

The proud parents - yes that's us!


A very proud Grandma

Proud Dad

(Yes, she arrived just in time for Mother's day!)