Baby Smith, as he has now been known for almost six days now has a name. We have decided to call him Keenan. Both myself and himself don't really know where this has emerged from it just has. So there.
Keenan is quite a remarkably quiet baby so far and not causing too much stress and mayhem to our household. Saf totally loves him and even though she doesn't understand she can't bounce on her bed with him, he seems to have been accepted pretty well.
Sunday 26 July 2009
Friday 24 July 2009
whats in a name?
Well alot as a matter of fact! This is a short post to let you all know my little bundle has arrived. The night before I was due to do in to be induced, there he came like a rocket shooting out of my neither regions..... (Stay tuned for every detail of labour in the future)
At three days old we still have to name him and are finding finding a name pretty tough- so all suggestions are very welcome :)
But I am happy to report, both myself and all 7lbs 12.5ozs of my son are keeping well.
At three days old we still have to name him and are finding finding a name pretty tough- so all suggestions are very welcome :)
But I am happy to report, both myself and all 7lbs 12.5ozs of my son are keeping well.
Monday 13 July 2009
Niggles & Nudges
If, things had have went how they had been planned, I would now be telling people that he/she was two weeks old followed by his/her name. Instead, here I sit on my bouncing ball balancing a ibook on my knees with one baby perched on my bladder, one baby who still does not have a name.
One day over my due date I am feeling like for want of a better word- crap. I have now reached the stage where I am looking at my face in the mirror wondering if it has swollen as much as I imagine it has, the stage where every niggle and nudge could be a contraction, but as yet hasn't been. I have now also reached the stage where I want every niggle and nudge to be a contraction, but a second later I pray that it's not because I'm getting more afraid of whats to come..... and dreading the feeling I can only describe as passing a burning bowling ball out of my fandango!
I am not looking forward to that burning feeling, but I am totally, positively looking forward to holding my baby for the first time. Feeding him or her for the first time and giving them a name. A name that I and himself will choose, one that he/she will have for the rest of their lives.
Being 11pm I foresee that this little baby will not be born on the 13th July which is good. The 14th would be better (don't ask, I simply have a dislike to odd numbers). But with 14th July only one hour away and stretching for a further 24 hours I could (if I go into labour soon) give birth to my second child on the 13th anniversary of my grandas death. Which is a bit weird I think. Not that I wouldnt want that day to have two meanings, its just I remember so well 13 years ago telling my two younger cousins that they weren't allowed to laugh because Granda had just died.
If then I don't want the baby to be born tomorrow, I will want it to hang on for another day, until the even 16th comes about. Strange.
But at least we can thank god for some small mercies- the baby didn't arrive on its due date- the 12th July, which would have meant every year on his/her birthday the poor child would have to share it's birthday with a bank holiday celebrating the life of some silly protestant from Holland. The day everything closes and the bands come out to play...
One day over my due date I am feeling like for want of a better word- crap. I have now reached the stage where I am looking at my face in the mirror wondering if it has swollen as much as I imagine it has, the stage where every niggle and nudge could be a contraction, but as yet hasn't been. I have now also reached the stage where I want every niggle and nudge to be a contraction, but a second later I pray that it's not because I'm getting more afraid of whats to come..... and dreading the feeling I can only describe as passing a burning bowling ball out of my fandango!
I am not looking forward to that burning feeling, but I am totally, positively looking forward to holding my baby for the first time. Feeding him or her for the first time and giving them a name. A name that I and himself will choose, one that he/she will have for the rest of their lives.
Being 11pm I foresee that this little baby will not be born on the 13th July which is good. The 14th would be better (don't ask, I simply have a dislike to odd numbers). But with 14th July only one hour away and stretching for a further 24 hours I could (if I go into labour soon) give birth to my second child on the 13th anniversary of my grandas death. Which is a bit weird I think. Not that I wouldnt want that day to have two meanings, its just I remember so well 13 years ago telling my two younger cousins that they weren't allowed to laugh because Granda had just died.
If then I don't want the baby to be born tomorrow, I will want it to hang on for another day, until the even 16th comes about. Strange.
But at least we can thank god for some small mercies- the baby didn't arrive on its due date- the 12th July, which would have meant every year on his/her birthday the poor child would have to share it's birthday with a bank holiday celebrating the life of some silly protestant from Holland. The day everything closes and the bands come out to play...
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