First baby, first week, first blog...

Well, after what has been a pretty eventful 2012 so far...getting married, hitting the 40's, getting pregnant and having a baby...I decided to add the cherry on the cake and start a blog. There are a number of reasons for this:

1. T, my lovely wife, decided we should find a way to capture all the special moments of our new daughter growing up in a kind of living document (a blog).
2. Our friends over the pond, Sheri and Steve, being great fans of Scottish blogs, have been dropping some unsubtle blog hints via email.
3. If having a baby wasn't enough of a challenge, I felt I needed to steepen my learning curve further and move into the blogosphere. 9 lines in and I have to say that blogging is certainly a lot simpler than the baby. It even has instructions.
4. I thought my starting a blog would help out my brother-in-law John. John has been a battle hardened blogger over the past 6 years, sharing with the world the adventures of Clan Gurney. He has at times felt the creative pressure that all good artists feel, and threatened to quit. So to help him out,share his pain and take the pressure off - I thought I would dip my blogging toe in the water.

Those reading this so far might wonder why I haven't started right off with the biggest moment of our lives to date (which took place 7 days, 18 hours and 31 minutes ago). I must admit I was tempted with that, but felt I didn't want to break the blog-ice with the BIG news of the birth of Emily. I thought I would subtly introduce it in about the 3rd paragraph, or about now to be precise... So here she is - the most beautiful girl in the world...

This is the view taken during my new favourite activity in the whole world - carrying wee Emmie in a sling.

Anyway, T and I have spent the last week frantically reading the instruction manual and discovering the unbelievable joy of parenthood. I am not sure either of us were quite prepared for our first week no matter how many NCT or ante-natal classes you go to. How can something so small take up ALL the time of two grown (and reasonably capable) adults? How can something so beautiful and gorgeous produce so much poo, or need to be fed every 2 hours? How can we now live the rest of our lives on this 'high alert' and in this constant state of worry?

Despite the chronic anxiety - I don't think either of us would change a thing from the last 7 days, 18 hours and 56 minutes. Around 6 hours before this time we were happily sitting with friends, doing the local pub quiz. T had been feeling like she had been having a few more Braxton Hicks during the evening, but there really weren't many more signs that our world would change forever that night. Then, at about 12.30 in the morning, T's waters broke and we placed a calm call to the hospital notifying them that we could be expected much later on that night or next morning.

About an hour and a half later, T was contracting every couple of minutes, and we placed a second, and rather more urgent, phone call to the hospital. I managed to hold it together enough to explain that her labour was progressing rather rapidly and we might be with them somewhat sooner than expected. Lesson 1 - Babies can arrive very quickly...

Luckily enough we had had the forethought to buy a very practical and reliable Volvo recently, so I got to drive really quickly (but safely) to the hospital, rather than trying to horse it there campervan style. On arrival poor T managed 3 contractions between the car and the admission desk, and had pretty much lost the power of speech except to repeat her mantra of "when is my bath going to be ready?". By this she meant the birthing pool in which Emily entered the world to the yogic sound of Deva Premal at 4.29am, and changed our lives forever. It's hard to describe the experience of childbirth - I found it singularly the most intensely beautiful experience - I am not sure T would use the same words exactly but I like to think she felt the same...

So from there the learning started...Just over 24hrs in hospital and a whirlwind of midwives explaining breastfeeding, burping and bathing. Tests were carried out, regular checks were done and there was a leaflet for everything. We even got a goodie bag. Emily got to hear her first tunes on Hospital FM...

Next came the excitement and terror, as we were given the all clear to bring her home. I was over the moon, and drove both T and E home very, very much slower (and safer) than how we had arrived...Bringing her into the house was the proudest moment, and the sun was shining to welcome her in.

And so we are here, and our adventure begins. I will save more tales of our first week for future posts but just now I will say a big 'Welcome to the world Emily' and show her off once more...A proud father's privilege...