Hello world

Apart from not know­ing what day of the week it is, and from almost burn­ing down the house because I fell asleep while ster­il­is­ing things the old fash­ioned way (we have since pur­chased an auto­matic ster­iliser), Naomi and I are set­tling in to par­ent­hood very well.

Our son is 8 days old today, and the con­fine­ment nanny tells us that he’s prob­a­bly hav­ing one of many growth spurts today — he demanded to be fed more fre­quently, and his skin appears drier and stretched. Dunno… she say one.

A stint under the UV light and and increas­ing food sup­ply seems to have reduced his jaun­dice a fair bit, and we’re very happy to have been home for three days now.

Last Fri­day when Naomi and I checked in to the hos­pi­tal at 3am for the elec­tive gen­eral anaes­the­sia cae­sarean, we knew it was going to be a long day, and all the nerves and jit­ters had already dis­solved into tired­ness by the time we got to the hospital.

I was shown into the deliv­ery suite to wait, while Naomi was wheeled in, together with the cam­era for the anaes­the­si­ol­o­gist to take pic­tures of our new­born because I’m not allowed into a GA cae­sarean theatre.

I’d always known it would be quick, but I wasn’t pre­pared for how fast our baby announced his arrival by yelling his lungs out — I could hear him in the deliv­ery suite, out­side the oper­at­ing the­atre, and I hadn’t even had time to fin­ish my hot drink that I had made at the pantry before they wheeled him out for me to say hello.

I don’t think any­one could’ve heard me greet my son because he was louder than any baby I have ever heard.

I don’t care if he punc­tures my eardrums though. He’s the most beau­ti­ful baby boy in the whole wide world.

And his name is Kai.

Say hello.