Too Busy to Worry?

It's been a busy week.  Things always get busy in any school towards the end of the school year, with reports to write and end of year productions and displays to prepare for.  This year is different though.  To add to the heavy workload, we are of course preparing, or 'nesting', for the birth of our daughter.  The benefit of all of this is the fact that I haven't had too much time to worry about my impending fatherhood.

Our little lady's wardrobe

Bags packed already!

My wife has been busy too.  She has washed all of our little lady's clothes and bedding.  She has also packed the bags for the hospital.  Even though we are 35 weeks through the pregnancy, with 5 weeks left to our due date, we know, because of the diabetes, that we will be having the baby before then.  So, whilst it might seem we have plenty of time to finish these things off, we are of the opinion that you can't be too prepared.  In fact, on Monday, I sent my wife a text checking she had plans to pack the bags, because I'd been told that morning that a friend of a colleague had given birth 5 weeks early.  Hearing things like this, as an expectant parent, only serves to make you more nervous and panic even more.  What if that happens to us?  Are we ready yet?

We started our NCT classes this week as well.  I had no idea what to expect from these classes.  After two sessions, I can honestly say that I have learned a huge amount.  Whilst much of what has been discussed has scared me, all of it has been informative.  There's been a lot talk, as you might expect, about labour.  The signs.  The stages.  The pain.  The drugs.  I've winced on several occasions and none of it will be happening to me physically. 
  

As part of the discussion on pain and pain relief, our class leader brought a TENS machine with her.  This part of the day definitely caused the most hilarity.  We were all given a chance to see how it works (at our own risk, of course) by attaching the pads to our lower arm.  There was an unofficial 'competition' among the expectant dads to see who could make their hand spasm the most by putting the machine on its highest setting and then pressing the 'Boost' button.  The guys found this funny, but there was more than one woman rolling  their eyes or tutting at their partner's juvenile behaviour.

Then there was the balls!  Great big, bouncy balls littering the room.  If you giggled at the last two sentences, then shame on you.  I'm talking about those gym balls that you see pregnant women rigorously bouncing up and down on in 'One Born Every Minute'.  One of the other fathers-to-be commented that getting across the room was like competing in a round of 'It's a Knockout'.  There are over half a dozen of them and every time I walk past them I have to resist the urge to start a game of football.  If we end up getting one at home I am worried that I will break things with my inability to treat it as anything but a really big basketball or football.

The now ready to use utility roorm

As well as this, I've finally cleared the utility room of all the decorating paraphernalia.  Let's ignore the fact it has been there since we moved in 3 months ago and celebrate the fact that it has been done before our daughter arrives.  Now the room can be used for sterilising bottles without the fear that half opened tins of paint and dirty paintbrushes will make any strelising we do completely pointless! It seems like there is nothing like the realisation that your child could arrive any day to make sure you get all of those last minute DIY jobs completed.

Living With Gestational Diabetes

My wife has taken to regularly injecting drugs.  Don't panic, she isn't mainlining heroin.  She is injecting insulin.  Unfortunately, she has been diagnosed with gestational diabetes.  As I have confessed previously, I am not any kind of medical authority.  I don't know how well I am able to explain this condition.  But I will give it a go.

Several weeks ago, because of a family history of later onset diabetes, my wife undertook a glucose tolerance test during a visit to the midwife.  I received a text later that morning from my wife saying that I should phone her when I had a minute.  Everything was fine with our baby, but the results of the test showed that my wife had gestational diabetes.  We were prepared for this because of her family history.  However, it still worried me enormously.  I was worried for my wife and for our unborn baby.  I didn't know much about it, so I promptly Googled it.  This is a dangerous thing to do.  It often leads you to finding the most severe facts about the condition which only served to worry me further.

I know the NHS is often criticised, but we have received some incredible support, care and attention from everyone we have met during the pregnancy.  We found out about the diabetes on the Wednesday before the May Day bank holiday.  The diabetic nurse insisted upon seeing us before the weekend and opened her clinic half an hour earlier on the Friday morning in order to see us and get my wife started on testing her blood sugars.  This is indicative of lengths people in the NHS have been prepared to go to help us during the pregnancy.

We were initially told that my wife's blood sugars might be controlled with diet alone.  However, they weren't.  So within a few days she started tablets which help to lower blood sugar levels.  This had a positive effect for a few more days before it became obvious that even this wasn't helping.  This was an incredibly frustrating and upsetting time for her.  She was doing everything she could do in order to control her sugar levels for the sake of our daughter.  It was yet another point during the pregnancy where I have felt utterly useless.  I was worried and I couldn't do anything to help because she was doing everything possible and it still wasn't helping.  As it turned out, the insulin, which was a last resort at the beginning of the process, was quite a relief to my wife.  Through injecting insulin, she has seen her blood sugars reduce and feels happier that our daughter isn't getting too much sugar.  She feels happier, which means that I feel happier too.

As part of the extra care you receive when you have gestational diabetes, you attend an antenatal clinic where you meet with the diabetic team, including a dietitian, a diabetic nurse and a diabetic consultant who check how well you are getting on with the drug regime and diet restrictions.  You also see an obstetric consultant (or a 'baby doctor' as the diabetic consultant referred to him as).  They check on the baby and how well mother is doing. You also have a scan to check that baby isn't getting too big.  This is the one of the real concerns with gestational diabetes.  Because my wife's body isn't able to control her blood sugars properly, there can be too much sugar in her blood.  This could lead to our baby taking on too much sugar and becoming too big.

We have been to two clinics now.  Our first visit was arranged last minute so we didn't have a scan.  Everything seemed well and my wife's bump was described as 'perfect' in size by the consultant.  In case you are wondering he didn't just have a look, he actually measured it!  The scan at our second visit showed that our baby is progressing well.  She isn't too big.  This is a relief.  In fact she sits very nicely in the middle of the upper and lower percentiles on her growth charts.  We need to return to this clinic a week on Monday where we will have another scan and meet with all of the wonderful healthcare professionals once again to check how both my wife and daughter are keeping and progressing.

Our baby is actually due on 21st July but because of the diabetes and complications which can occur if the pregnancy is allowed to go on past the due date we will be offered an induction at 38 or 39 weeks even if our daughter isn't too big.  On finding out about the induction, largely due to my medical ignorance, it wasn't actually me who was fretting this time, it was my wife.  I don't know much about the process.  I have read about it since finding out and it seems like it could be quite difficult for my my wife.  I now understand (in a very simplified way) what it entails and, therefore, why my wife was panicked.  But what I also know is that she will be given the very best care by the 'baby doctors' and the midwives at Gloucester Royal Hospital.  And I will be there every single step of the way to act as her personal punchbag!  So she needn't fret either!

Dad Dancing

I already feel sorry for my daughter.  And she hasn't been born yet.  I am not at all 'cool'.  I am worried for my daughter, as I will undoubtedly embarrass her.  There will be any number of reasons for this embarrassment.  Top of the list has to be my dancing!

Recently, I attended a friend's wedding and a school disco.  I didn't go to the disco to dance.  I was there in a professional capacity.  But at times I couldn't help myself and I started to dance before quickly realising where I was.  I immediately stopped, but it wasn't always quickly enough and I looked around to see more that one child sniggering at me or rolling their eyes.  At the wedding I did dance.  I didn't dance well, but it's the thought that counts!

I don't think my daughter is going to be impressed that I know all of the moves to 5ive's 'Everybody Get Up'!  There is nothing impressive about it.  Unless you've had far too much to drink.  And at that stage it isn't so much impressive as hilarious.  I can guarantee that she will be embarrassed by it.

As I said, the dancing is just the top of what is quite a long list.  At school we are currently rehearsing a performance to share with the rest of the school and parents at the end of the year.  The children will be performing various routines to a range of modern music.  My problem is that I have not heard most of the songs that they are asking for.  When I ask, "Who sings that?" they look at me with pity in their eyes.  How could this out of touch, old man not know that Jessie J, Ollie Murs or One Direction sings that song?  And, who on Earth is this band called Counting Crows he keeps suggesting?

I don't listen to the radio any more.  Radio One, as far as I can tell, seldom plays music.  When they do, it isn't, in my opinion, any good.  Instead I listen to my iPod.  I do love music.  I am always downloading  it.  None of it, however, is what my daughter will want to listen to.  There isn't any Justin Bieber, The Wanted, Rhianna or Bruno Mars.

So, there's dancing and music for me to embarrass my daughter with.  There's also my choice of car.  I have a Kia C'eed.  It is great to drive and a good size to accommodate our expanding family.  But, it isn't the coolest of cars.  Whilst I might not have the same car when my daughter is old enough to attend school, I don't have a good record when it comes to selecting my motors.  My previous car was an even more embarrassing Rover 45!  I imagine that, once she is old enough to attend school and have conversations with her friends about what car their dads drive, my daughter will probably say something like, "Oh, we don't have a car.  We use the bus."

And of course there's the buggy!  We, it seems, are already prepared to embarrass our child before she is even born.  Pushing her around in that very bright and vivid colour will do nothing for her street-cred.