Stroud Maternity (by alaric)

Sarah was a bit under the weather with anemia and an infection, but the infection cleared up with antibiotics and the anemia is improving with iron supplements. Her separated pelvis is hurting her, but that's to be expected after spending so much time lying or sitting due to the initial recovery and subsequent anemia, which makes her tire easily. It'll improve as she moves about more, and as the pregnancy hormones drain from her system, the ligaments will firm up again and it will return to normal.

Mary, meanwhile, is doing fine!

However, Sarah was sufficiently recovered yesterday to be driven down to Stroud Maternity. She'd been in Gloucester Royal Hospital's maternity ward, which was great - it's shiny and new, and the staff are skilled, professional, and take the time to reassure and discuss everything.

However, Stroud Maternity is a local legend, and we were keen to explore the chance to stay there. Everyone we know who's been there swears by the place. If we had been going for a normal delivery with no expected complications, Mary would probably have been born there.

When we arrived, I at first wondered what all the fuss was about. It was small, and not all shiny and new. Sarah was put into a smaller room, with an older model of bed. It seemed... quiet, and empty. Everyone had said you had much better care from the staff here, but Gloucester Royal had been teeming with staff; here, a few people in casual clothes sat in offices with the door open onto the single corridor.

But once we'd unpacked, and Sarah had regained her strength from the car journey and wheelchair transfers so we could start exploring, it began to make sense. Sarah and Mary are in a side room, but a few doors down the corridor widens into a little ward. One wall has about four alcoves with beds in, while the other wall has a small kitchen, with supplies to make hot drinks, and an alcove full of toys and games for elder siblings. In the middle of the ward is a large wooden table, where meals are served; they put out placemats and serve the food on proper plates, rather than hospital trays, and the dinner lady brings cups of tea round. A bowl of fruit sits in the middle of the table at all times. There were three ladies in the place when Sarah came out for dinner; one stayed in her room, but the other emerged and sat opposite us, and we chatted about babies and this and that over dinner. Beyond the ward is a room with comfy chairs and a TV, and large windows looking out onto a lawn with trees.

Later that evening, as I was settling Mary and Jean down to leave, Mary kept gumming hungrily and wailing, but Sarah was hurting from breastfeeding too much, so she dispatched me to ask for formula milk so I could take over; the midwife was surprised that we thought that necessary and concerned that breastfeeding was hurting Sarah, and came in to see Sarah, and quickly pointed out that she wasn't holding Mary in a way that would encourage her to get the most milk out, and a few other tips that helped her then feed from Sarah until she slept. Sarah was then sad that we'd had not breastfeeding support when Jean was born, and she'd been suffering all this time - and when the midwife later let me out through the security doors, she noted that Sarah had seemed a bit distressed, and asked me if I felt she'd said the right things; I quickly explained, and she said she'd try to help.

So, I wouldn't have a bad word to say about Gloucester Royal. It certainly has the advanced facilities to deal with complications in labour, Cesarean sections, and serious medical problems after birth; they've got neonatal incubators, and cardiac crash teams on call, and all that. But if a mother and baby are past needing all that stuff, there's a lot to be said for Stroud Maternity as a small, cozy, place without medical uniforms, disturbing medical equipment bristling with tubes standing on hand in the corridors, and the bustle and sterility of the hospital. Somewhere to sit and chat with other people in the same situation, and friendly midwives with time to talk, and have all the domestic stuff handled for you before you are strong enough to return home.

Mary progress (by alaric)

Mary's doing well. Her blood sugar was a bit low at first, due to some combination of medication Sarah was on before the birth (Metformin, to control gestational diabetes, which acts to reduce blood sugar levels) and a delay in Sarah's breast milk coming through properly, but she got over that fine and was pronounced fit to discharge. She and Sarah are still in the hospital for now, though, as Sarah's quite anemic and gets short of breath very quickly, and she was showing some signs of infection; but they put her on antibiotics, and the infection symptoms are fading away. She's on iron supplements, and is getting stronger every day.

I've been spending most of every day with them, helping Sarah with looking after herself and Mary, and keeping them company. I get to hold Mary lots, which has been particularly fun as she's started being more awake and alert; she spent a lot of time sleeping for the first couple of days, but now she opens her eyes and looks around, turning her head towards voices. Today she took to lifting her head up, although her neck is still quite weak so she can only do this if you're holding her upright to begin with; she now unsteadily holds her head up so she can look around more. The right thing to do to help her brain develop at this stage is to talk to her, so that's what I've been doing... telling her about the pets at home and that sort of thing. I've also been having a go at talking to her in Lojban, as I'd quite like to raise her as Lojban/English bilingual, in order to test the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis once and for all. I need to to a bit more research on suitable Lojban baby talk, but so far it's been {ko .iu gleki} ("be happy, darling"), {lo vi mamta be do} ("Mummy's here!"), {mi patfu do .iu} ("It's Daddy!"), {.uu .uinaidai} ("Aw, you're sad"), {.uipei} ("Are you happy?"), {.uidai} ("You're happy!"), {fi'i la meris} ("Welcome, Mary"), and so on.

Mary (by alaric)

Yesterday morning, at 9:45am, our second daughter Mary was born by Caesarian section!

The day started early, before 6am, as Sarah had to take pre-operative medication at 6. But we'd packed everything the night before, so there was little more to do than sleepily get ready and get into the car. We left at 7am, still dark and cold; to my initial horror, the road up the hill from the house was frozen and the car slid on the ice... but I took an alternate route, and we get to the hospital and parked in about half an hour. Slightly early, so there was nobody actually in the maternity assessment unit yet, so we sat and waited.

Just after 8am, Sarah was ushered in, and measurements taken, and she was questioned about allergies and all that sort of stuff by the anesthetist, midwife, and registrar. Then without further ado, up to the theatre suite. I changed into scrubs while they fitted Sarah with a canula, then into the theatre itself where the spinal anesthetic was applied, and Sarah laid down, with me alongside. Once the pain block was confirmed, a sheet went up so we couldn't see the gore. The anesthetist asked Sarah if she'd like to know when they started; she said yes, so he peeked over, and announced that they were already well underway.

After a few moments (9:45am), Mary was lifted up (still attached to the cord) so we could see her over the sheet, and my fear and panic gave way to trembling relief, and Sarah visibly relaxed as well. Then she was whisked away by the midwife for examination and cord removal, while I continued to calm Sarah as they worked to remove the placenta and clean her up.

Mary was brought to us soon, and I held her next to Sarah's head, all tiny and swaddled. Sarah began to feel sick so I took Mary away and rocked her and sang to her, as she was getting hungry (she was turning her head towards me and opening her mouth). Once Sarah was all sewn up and transferred from operating table to a bed, Mary was placed in her arms, and we went through to the recovery room.

Mary then breastfed, for what seemed like an age, then when she was done I brought her to the midwife to weigh... where it was found that, while being carried, she'd pooed on my hand and the nice surgical scrubs. So I went and changed back into my clothes while she was cleaned up and put into a nappy. Sarah was recovering fine, so with Mary back in her arms, her bed was wheeled up into the Maternity ward, where mother and baby slept.

I got some cuddles:

And Sarah got plenty of cuddles, as Mary alternately slept on her and breastfed:

And then Jean and Sarah's parents arrived. Jean was lovely with Mary - she'd been so looking forward to having a sibling, and the look of delight on her face was something to behold. She cuddled Mary lots:

Seeing them bonding was particularly special to me, having been a bit of a lonely only child. My daughters have something I never had!

We were amazed by how professionally and carefully everything has been done. The staff at Gloucester Royal Hospital have been excellent to us. But I'll leave it to Sarah to write up her thoughts on that, as she's been the focus of attention!

On fatherhood (by alaric)

The role of the father in pregnancy and childbirth is often misunderstood. It's easy to imagine that we have it easy - the conception is a hard six hours' work, sure, and then after nine months you have an extra mouth to feed; but nothing compared to pregnancy and childbirth, right?

But there's a little more to it than that.

The thing I've found hardest, to be honest, is feeling powerless. I can carry Sarah's bags, and help her get in and out of the car, and so on, but I have to just stand there looking awkward as she winces in pain at every step. It was at its worst in the delivery room, when Jean was being born; I had been keeping myself going with Optimism and Enthusiasm as Sarah's condition declined and the number of tubes and wires connected to her rose, right up to the point when the medical stuff had a worried conversation with each other and started bringing in extra trollies full of equipment. The sight of the "crash cart" laden with defibrillator and its breathing-bag thing with a set of individually wrapped sterile airways, and a cart with surgical instruments, finally brought it home that they were seriously concerned that Sarah's heart would fail under the strain. They told me that if she died, they would try and save the baby. And all I could do was stand and wait and try not to get in the way.

Once Jean was out, it was great - I could hold her, and change nappies, and take the strain off of Sarah whiled looking after her recovery. That was far easier than just having to stand and watch.

Tomorrow at 8am we have to report to the hospital, where Jean's sibling will be extracted by planned Caesarian section. Again, I'm feeling the powerlessness... I'm rushing around getting everything ready, and making Sarah a nice meal of whatever she wants before she has to go on Nil By Mouth in preparation for the surgery, and laying out everything needed for Sarah's parents to look after Jean; ticking the last things off of lists, checking and cross-checking preparations. I'm surrounding myself in hyperactivity, because I know there's not actually all that much more I can do that will actually make a difference.

Wearable computers (by alaric)

One of my too many projects is to make a wearable computer.

Lots of people are interested in making wearables, but nobody's yet come up with one that hits a "sweet spot" of decent functionality along with it being unobtrusive enough to not be a pain.

Well, I'm a nerd, so I'm far happier to put up with obtrusiveness to get my pervasive cognitive-assistance fix... I've been fascinated by pervasive computers since I was a kid; I read about Steve Roberts' recumbent bicycle as a youngster, as well as plenty of fiction about brain implants and the like.

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