Henry at Three Weeks

Henry at Three Weeks
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Henry at three weeks. I'd forgotten how fast they grow.

The Short Controller

As noted earlier, this is a Thomas household. The Fat Controller does not tolerate any frivoloty on his railway, as that would cause confusion and delay. Here is Nat studying the latest proposals from the engineers. I suspect that it is too simplistic. Our rolling stock division has been evaluating the acquisition of a James-class engine, but we're not sure we can deal with that level of cheekiness in a steam engine. At a minimum, though, we need more coaches. We have more engines than freight or passengers, and that's no way to run a railway.

Here's our latest layout, which daddy beleives is the tightest to date. Katya appears to agree. Having mastered basic layout rules and performance techniques, we will soon graduate to elevated track and have long-term plans to move to a table-based network.

Henry at Two Weeks

Henry at two Weeks
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Here's Henry at two weeks in his big brother's old pajamas. See this.

Holding Hands

Holding Hands
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Here's a picture of Nat holding Henry's hand while Henry naps in our living room. Nat has adjusted about as well as you could expect for a toddler. So far, since Henry was born, Nat has only requested that Henry "go away" or that there be "no baby" once. I was painting the back reception room (with the new skirting boards in, we no longer have exposed live electrical wires in our back reception room which doubles as Nat's playroom!) and Henry was nursing. Nat was frustrated because he couldn't come into his playroom, and mommy was occupied. So he started slamming the doors in our reception room, which he knows he is not allowed to do. I finally yelled at him and he cried, "Baby go away, no baby!". It was awful.

Otherwise when Nat wants attention, he suggests that whoever is not holding Baby Henry should hold Baby Henry, so that Nat can sit on the lap of the previous holder ("Daddy hold Henry, Nat sit on mommy's lap"). Of course, once Henry is transferred, Nat proposes that the swich be made again. It is nice to know, however, that Nat is sure to propose an option that doesn't just involve Henry being sent away or being put down by himself.

Nat has also reacted to the new competition for our affection by seriously dialing up the schmaltz. Whereas once Nat refused kisses, he now offers them up and requests to be held and cuddled at bedtime (during which he will look into your eyes and stroke your hair and say "squeeze").

Henry will need to raise his game to compete. The not-smiling and crying and moaning isn't cutting it.

Double Decker

Double Decker
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Behold, the Phil & Ted's e3. When you acquire a Bugaboo Frog, they don't tell you that when number 2 comes along within 30 months or so, you will need a new ride. This should really be disclosed in the warning that they stich to the safety strap of the Boo. That would be useful information, unlike the admonishment to make sure the child clear of moving parts when you fold the thing.

While Bugaboo is happy to sell you a buggy board (a platform the eldest can ride, standing up, behind the stroller), this isn't really practical for trips of any length. Of course, that's not something that new parents understand.

So, with much regret, we went for the e3. In its current configuration, Nat sits up front, somewhat elevated. Henry is below him in a cocoon, lying flat. Later on, Henry will sit in a sort of jump seat below and to the rear of Nat's seat.

Pushing it is about as heavy as you would expect. And it's pretty disconcerting to have both your kids wheeled around in a small nylon and steel contraption. But, the e3 in this configuration can just barely fit on a standard London double decker bus in the wheelchair/pram space, provided that the driver doesn't realize there are two kids in there (likely) and that there are no other strollers on the bus (less likely).

Turkey Day

Turkey Day
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Happy Thanksgiving from across the pond.

Henry at One Week

Henry at One Week
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Already he looks more and more like Nat did at this age (albeit with considerably less hair). See, for example, here. To Deirdre's dismay, those eyes are turning a glorious brown, as the Smith genes lay down the law.

Daddy's Boys

Daddy's Boys
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

The only thing this photo has going for it is that we're all looking in the same direction. Daddy is both tired and scruffy and, as usual, barely able to keep his eyes open in a photo. Nat is paranoid that Henry will take his blankie. Henry is mad about his molty skin (for the first week of his life, Henry lost and regrew all the skin on his face, not uncommon for babies who are in utero longer than strictly necessary and whose first exposure to the outside world was in a somewhat chilly living room).

Hey buddy

Hey buddy
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Nathaniel takes great pleasure in pointing out the fact that his brother has eyes (and that certain things in the house belong to "the baby" or "baby Henry", but that most other things are definitely Nat's). Henry is not so keen on these observations.

BBA

Ultimately, this is a happy post. In many ways it is an angry post. In a (sotto vocce) sense it is the most awesomest thing evar!!!111.

To allay any concern, I present my second-born, Henry Dobson Smith. Named after Patrick Henry (both of my sons are namesakes of Revolutionary War figures) and my grandfather Jesse Dobson (JD) Long, he is pictured here with Deirdre. Henry was born on 3 November 2006 at 1707 (GMT), weighing 8 lbs. 7 oz., in my living room, with Dr. Read Something-Somewhere, attending, who daylights as a corporate and securities lawyer and is in no way qualified to deliver babies, but who has strong opinions (weakly held) on most matters, so that has to count for something. Apologies in advance for the relative lack of photographic evidence, but we were busy at the time.

In fair Fulham, where we lay our scene, Deirdre was 41 weeks pregnant and not happy about it. Nat, our firstborn, had been 2 weeks early, and had caught us unprepared. So this time around, we had set up the new baby's furniture. I had scaled down my work to be able to hand off at a moment's notice. Volunteers had been lined up to babysit Nat. In short, everything was ready. Except the baby. On 26 October (2 days before the due date), we had visited the clinic and Deirdre got an somewhat non-standard membrane sweep (an unpleasant procedure that can induce labor), which did nothing. A week later on 2 November, she got another one.

Two hours later, at about 1600 on 2 November, Deirdre's contractions graduated from Braxton-Hicks contractions to proper contractions, about 15 minutes apart. We warned the Newns (our next-door neighbors whose son, Arthur, is Nat's best friend), that we would probably drop Nat off that night. The contractions immediately stopped, and I went back to reviewing a draft prospectus. Around 2000, they started back up again, and rolling the dice, we took Nat next door, promising to get him before 0700 if nothing happened. Once again, the contractions stopped. But at 0300 on 3 November, they started up again in earnest, and we took a cab to Chelsea & Westminster (the hospital where Nat was born). Recall that I had been dining out for years on the fact that we took the No. 14 bus to C&W during Nat's birth. I proposed taking the night bus to increase our street cred even further, but was outvoted.

Once we got to C&W, an internal exam showed Deirdre to be a mere 1-2 cm dilated. Just like coffee is only for closers, a bed in the labor ward at C&W is only for folks who are serious about giving birth, and 1-2 cm (less than she was at the clinic the day before) just wouldn't cut it. We went home in disgrace, and £15 poorer for the experience (I knew I had been right about the night bus).

The morning of 3 November, I took Nat to Monkey Music, a toddler's music class. Certain of the other moms later reported to Deirdre that I had apparently enjoyed myself more than Nat (guilty as charged, I do enjoy singing silly songs). When we got home, Deirdre was in bad shape. Around noon, she called the labor ward, who kept to their story ... no admittance without contractions every 5minutess (meaning 5 minutes elapse between the beginnings of each contraction). At the time, Deirdre was having contractions every 10 - 15 minutes, but they were lasting 2 - 3 minutes at a time. The labor ward told her to have a bath and a nap, which she duly did. I spent the afternoon running around and generally neglecting Deirdre.

Around 1500, Deirdre was in even worse shape. A second call to the labor ward was futile, without the frequency they wanted, we would be sent home again. By 1545, we still didn't have the frequency, but Deirdre was begging for drugs. The labor ward finally relented, and told us to come in in an hour or so. I took Nat next door (again), got our bags ready and called a cab at about 1605. By 1630, the cab still hadn't shown, and Deirdre demanded that we call another cab (which I eventually did, after some delay, obfuscation and hemming and hawing). At 1640, I noticed a cab down the street. Intending to steal it, I ran down, waving a £20, only to find that the cab was mine and it had been waiting for a while at the wrong address. Tossing our bags into the back, I had him circle around to pick up Deirdre at the door.

Inside, though, I found Deirdre leaning over a chair in the living room. Her waters had broken. I got a towel and bustled her toward the front door (the cab driver had no idea what he was getting himself into). As we got into the hall, she dropped to the ground, and said, "the baby is coming now, call an ambulance." I really didn't want to be that guy who couldn't get his wife to the hospital in time and tried to persuade her that going to C&W was a better bet, but Deirdre dropped trou and said, "this baby is coming!". [The next bit is not really for the squeamish]

I finally called 999 (the UK equivalent of 911), and just then, I saw Henry's head crowning. The 999 lady told me to keep my hand on the head to slow down his arrival. I asked whether or not any harm would come to the baby in the birth canal (so we could wait for the ambulance), but the 999 lady said she couldn't give any medical advice. Taking that as a yes, I dropped the phone told Deirdre to push like crazy. While I somehow managed to remember the importance of massaging the perineum, I did forget that you can only push during a contraction. In any event, 4 pushes later, and Henry made it out at 1707. I swept his mouth, smacked his rear, and put him on Deirdre's chest, and he gave us an annoyed cry.

Three minutes later, the ambulance service arrived, and they gave Henry some oxygen (he looked a little gray) and clamped the umbilicalal cord so I could cut it. At Nat's birth, I didn't want to have anything to do with the business end, but this time around I didn't mind so much. A while later, the midwife from C&W came and delivered the placenta (we were close to having to go to the hospital to have a c-section done just for the placenta). After some more checks, and what turned out to be pointless blood work, we were left alone, with a family of four.

So, what else can be said after 1,200 words of what I hope is a reasonably faithful recitation of the events? First, I didn't really do anything other than catch. Deirdre was the one who went through what amounted to the first stage of labor basically alone and through the shooting match without any pain relief at all. Deirdre was the one who knew it was better to have the baby at home than in the cab (which was what would have happened even if the cab arrived at a reasonable time).

Second, I'm pretty enraged at C&W, but in a pretty inarticulate fashion. I understand their cost pressures and the needs to keep beds free, but C&W should have been much more apologetic (Deirdre, I'm sure will discuss the bloodwork fiasco at a later date). But since it's an English institution, very little will ever come of that rage. At most, I could complain to our MP, or perhaps write to capital letters.

But, in the end, we were very lucky, and I have Henry, Nat and Deirdre safe and sound.

BBA = Born before arrival. The notation on Henry's records. We will have lots of legal trouble because of this, but that is the subject of another post.

Expectant

Expectant
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

We know you're all here to see pictures of the new baby. They're coming, we promise, but if we gave you what you wanted straightaway, you wouldn't come back. In the meantime, here is Deirdre at about D minus 4, looking particularly fecund. Nat is somewhere in the house thing behind her.

Chasing

Chasing
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Our other fun game at the park is chasing. Most it involves Nat running about 10 feet, saying "Chase Daddy!", and then falling over in a heap. This is more fun when it's very muddy, which is most of the time these days.

Sliding

Sliding
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

More fun at the park. This slide is much too big for Nat (the top is at the far end of a rope bridge that Nat can't quite manage, even if he could climb the ladder), so daddy gets to lift Nat up to about 3/4s of the way up the slide, only for Nat to get to the bottom and say "Again! Again!".

Pig rustler

Pig rustler
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

A random wooden pig at the park we go to.

New Perspective

New Perspective
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Nat has been doing this a lot recently. He actually can do a somersault, but only accidentally from this position. His real problem is falling over from laughter when he sees you upside down.

Je ne sais quoi

Je ne sais quoi
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

Here we see Nat in his hipsteresque attire: cords, v-neck sweater, untucked in shirt, and Gordon, the express engine. If you must watch children's TV, there are a lot worse shows than Thomas, which teaches discipline and goal setting, along with the importance of reliability and usefulness, and unquestioning obedience to the Fat Controller (or Sir Topham Hat, as they say in the bowlderized version that plays in the States).

Obligatory Bath Photo

Obligatory Bath Photo
Originally uploaded by dyrlac.

All children should be doomed to a bath photo. As far as these go, this one is pretty tame.