We are so lucky

It's been pretty intense, the last few weeks.

 

Elliott is a joy. He is a pure, total, amazing joy. He's the light of my life and he's beautiful.

 

He really is so well behaved. He cries sometimes, but when he does it is usually for just a few seconds. Once he's been fed, changed, or held he quietens quickly and gives us a goofy, silly smile. Apparently he isn't yet at the age yet where he recognizes us or smiles at us, but he certainly is making that impression. He's very alert, very interested in the world around him, and very sweet. He sleeps well, he's happy when awake, he's bloody perfect.

 

I'll update this blog more frequently (I promise! I promise I will!), and will post photos soon. (Promise!)

It never rains but it pours

Well... we have a lot to catch up on!

Firstly, I'd like to apologize to you all for the delay in posting. Things have been a little crazy over the past few days, as I'm sure you can imagine. Instead of going over everything right now, let's go back and do one day at a time.

First, Monday 15th March, 2010.

We woke up on Monday nervous as all hell and in a panic. It felt a little like the morning of a vacation, all of us rushing around, making sure that we had everything. 'Camera!', someone shouted. 'In the bag! what about spare batteries?' someone replied. We tore around, grabbing random items, stuffing them in bags and trying to deal with the enormity of the day.

Thankfully, Mother Nature had provided us with a distraction. We were on day three of some of the heaviest rain that the area has seen for many a year. Rivers were breaking their banks, roads were flooding, basements around the neighborhood were filling with water and sewage. The news crews were out in force and diversions were set up everywhere. We decided that we should leave early, and give ourselves plenty of time to get to the hospital.

As it happened, we needn't have bothered. We got to the hospital with time to spare and went up to the labor and delivery department. Alise, myself and Hannah (Alise's sister) waited almost patiently until we could go back to be prepped.

We hit a snag here, when we were told that Hannah wouldn't be allowed either in the delivery room or the recovery room, and wouldn't be allowed to see us until around 5pm. This was upsetting to all, but Hannah said she'd wait downstairs in the lobby. She braved the rains and went and got magazines, and took up residence in a comfy chair.

Alise and I were then taken back. Alise was undressed and put into a rather fetching hospital gown, and hooked up to machines to check the vital signs of her and baby. I sat in the corner, breathing deeply and trying not to vomit. Nervous time. Very nervous time.

The C-Section was scheduled for noon. As is typical, an emergency delivery held us up for another hour, which didn't really help our nerves. The woman in the bed next to us came back from her c-section proclaiming 'make way for the cutest baby e-ver!' and then barked loudly about how terrible the procedure was. Again, this didn't help.

Suddenly, a nurse came. 'We're going to take Alise now', she said. 'We'll come back for you in a few minutes'.

I cannot ever recall being so nervous. Suddenly I broke into a cold sweat and started to shake uncontrollably. I paced the floor, holding back tears and vomit. I dry heaved a couple of times. I was not in a good place.

Then they came to get me. They lead me into the operating room like a condemned prisoner. I walked in to see the bottom half of the woman I love with a curtain crossing her torso. Doctors stood over her, waiting for me to take my place. I remember thinking that she looked a little like a magician's beautiful assistant, ready to be cut in half and then put back together again. I then realized that this wasn't far from the truth. They'd also be pulling a rabbit from the hat. Genius.

I sat next to Alise, on the quiet side of the curtain. I decided that I didn't want to watch the show. I took a few deep breaths.

The speed at which they worked shocked me. It felt like they'd only been going for about five minutes before I heard someone saying 'What time?'. Someone else replied '1:56'. The boy had technically been born.

And then he appeared. Held up to us on our side of the curtain. We saw our son for the first time. Our hearts melted.

Once he'd been cleaned up a little and weighed, he was swaddled and handed to me. I held him up to Alise as they put her back together. They finished quickly, and we were wheeled back to the recovery area where the woman with the second cutest baby e-ver was. I asked if Hannah could come up and see us and was given the green light, and we all breathed a huge sigh of relief. Baby Elliott was born, he was perfect, he was awesome.

After being released from labor and delivery we were transferred to the maternity ward. Elliott was taken to the nursery for some checks, so I took advantage of the break in action to drive Hannah home, feed Coco, before coming back to the hospital on the train. When I got to the train station, I learned that some of the track had been washed away in the storm and that we were being bussed to Boston. News crews were still there. They interviewed me. I made it onto the evening news.

http://www1.whdh.com/video/player/?clipId=4624155&clipFormat=flv&topVideoCatNo=91535#?autoStart (I'm about a minute in)

Photo Time!

Elliott Andrew Crossland

Baby Elliott Andrew Crossland was born on March 15th, at 1:56pm. He weighed 8 pounds, is 19.75 inches long, and is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I cried, I fell in love, I became a father.

 

Mother and baby are doing great. They are still in the hospital, mainly so that Alise can recover. They will be home on Friday.

 

I'll post photos shortly.

C-Day

Today.... WE ARE HAVING A BABY!!!

Oh God, Oh Lord, Oh Fuck!!

While the rest of the state is under flood water, we are going to the hospital to have a baby. In a few short hours this journey will end, a new one will begin. Oh. My. GOD.

F-F-F-F-Five More Days

We had our last ultrasound yesterday. Our last one!! We are now officially into 'super scary' time.

 

The next time that we see this child, he'll be all Avatar on us. He'll be in weird colors, and he'll be in 3D. He'll be babbling in languages that we don't really understand, and he'll be worth billions of dollars.

 

We have a couple more things that we need to do, before Monday. I have an appointment at a local police station at 7am on Saturday (what time??!) to have the car seat checked, and we have to go to the hospital for the pre-op appointment. We're then scheduled to sit around a lot and get nervous, and I've tentatively penciled in a long night of restless sleep on Sunday.

 

Then... he'll be here. Wow. Time has flown.

One Week (pt 2)

It'll be, one week 'til I look at you,

Hold your hand and tell you that I love you,

Pretty soon I'll be holding you,

You're the best thing to happen to me since your mommy...

 

Pass me a burp cloth, the child is coughing,

The bottle of milk's in the kitchen warming,

wiping your butt with no lights on,

Because it's half one,

I hope this diaper is a clean one,

I-hope-you-don't-wake-every-one-within-a-mile-radius-please-don't-take-advantage-of-the-cloth-not-on-your-penis

 

oh holy god you pissed on me while I was changing you,

trying hard not to gag but I can't do,

I'm the kind of guy who screams at cotton wool,

Now I'm covered in your puke, and your poo,

I'm really tired and I'm crying, with you,

I really hope I get some goddam sleep tonight...

 

It'll be, one week 'til I look at you,

Hold your hand and tell you that I love you,

Pretty soon I'll be holding you,

You're the best thing to happen to me since your mommy...

One Week To Go!!

Don't worry everyone... we're still here! Still waiting, still panicking a little.

 

We had quite an eventual week, really. Alise's sister Hannah arrived on Monday and has taken up residence in the spare room. As soon as she arrived, Coco the wonder dog fell ill and we had to rush her to the emergency vet. Again. Poor girl. She's on medications, and seems to be doing well.

 

Now, we're just pretty much waiting. We had a nice weekend and enjoyed the spring weather, I put the car seat in the car (I don't know how he's supposed to reach the steering wheel but I guess he'll be okay), and tidied up a bit. This week we're having our last ultrasound, and will try to relax. And not think too much about next Monday.

Don't Panic!

No seriously, don't panic.

We're still waiting, still getting ready mentally and physically for the baby. There's not a whole lot to say right now, to be honest; and this kind of feels like the calm before the storm. We're going to have a shit-ton of things to talk about very soon, but for now we're still waiting and we are getting more and more impatient.

There are some things that I want to say to someone out there, though. Someone special. Someone who is my son.

Be safe, little guy. Be safe in your little sanctuary. Be safe, and be healthy and do whatever it is that you need to do in these last couple of weeks.

I can't wait to see you, and I can't wait to start to bond with you. Your mom and I have been watching a show called '16 and Pregnant' recently (if you ever get a girl knocked up when she's 16 I'll chop your bollocks off, okay?) and we've both been getting a little emotional watching these babies getting born.

When you come out, you're immediately going to become the most important person in my world. I love your mom to death and I'd do anything for her (except for rubbing her feet). I love your aunts and uncles, I love your grandparents. I love myself, kinda. But when you come out, you'll be something special; something unique.

I'm really fucking scared little buddy, I'm really fucking scared that I'll let you down, that I'll not give you everything that you need, that I'll not be the best father that I can be.

I'm going to give this all I have though. When I leave this world I won't be thinking 'have I been the best office worker that I could be?', I won't be thinking 'did I ever make the most of my mad skillz?', I won't be thinking 'I can turn right on red here, right?' (maybe that'll be the penultimate thing I think), I will be thinking 'was I the best father that I could be?'

That's how I'll judge myself, that's how much you mean to me.

Good luck, little guy. Good luck in this world of increasing danger and political stupidity. There are some brilliant minds on this planet that keep amazing me and which keep advancing our species further. There are also some crazy fuckers who keep being elected to office and who keep reinforcing the crazy. I can't even imagine how this world will look in 30 years, but when you are my age I imagine that things will be pretty different. All that I can say is, enjoy the ride, don't take anything too seriously, and always treat everyone how you want to be treated yourself.

This last piece of advice also applies to when you're a newborn. If you piss on me when I'm changing your diaper......

Above all, please remember that I am not the finished article and neither are you. We will learn this shit together, and we will laugh and cry together. We are both going to evolve, learn, love and fart because it's funny.

We're going to have a blast. Let's do this!

My How You've Grown!

We had another ultrasound this morning. From now on they will be weekly, meaning that Alise and I will both be getting up early and driving into Boston for 7am appointments, every Tuesday until the boy arrives. We'll be so much happier when he's come and we can sleep in! Mmwwhhaaaa!!!

 

The boy is now 6lbs, 10 clicks and is pretty much ready for departure. He's kind of squished in, and the photo doesn't really show much apart from the fact that he seems to have really big lips. It looks like he still has hair, and he's growing well. If things go according to plan he'll be around 8 and a half pounds (13 dollars or so) when he's born.

 

And... still we wait. We really don't have anything else to do right now, but wait. Wait until the day comes when our lives will never be the same again. It's quite surreal, strange and still a little hypothetical. He's coming, he's going to stay for a while, he's going to be awesome, and he's going to change everything.

 

Hurry up little buddy, I want to see you now.

We Shall Never Forget 12/16/1773

 

We had a lovely weekend, on our mini vacation.

 

I have never, ever been offered a free upgrade before; I guess arriving at a hotel with a heavily pregnant lady helps. We got there and checked in, and Alise went off to use the bathroom. While she was absent the gentleman at reception asked us where we were from and where we were going.

 

 'About 15 minutes away, and nowhere' was my response.

 

I told him that we were just staying at the hotel to relax and get away from doing housework for a night, while staying close to the hospital just in case the boy decided to check out.  

 

'Congratulations!' the young man said. 'Allow me to give you a complimentary upgrade to a room with a harbor view'

'How lovely!' I replied. 'I'll get to see where you dumped our tea!'

 

I actually didn't say that. I didn't even think to say that at any time during the weekend. Lost opportunities.

 

Anyway though! We took a walk on a cold beach, we swam in the small but empty pool, we dined happily and we watched the history channel on the tv. Like I always do in hotels. Fun! We really did escape, even if just for a few hours.

Price-Line-Negotiator!

Alise and I are going on a mini vacation this weekend.

 

I've been awfully tired recently, it's what happens to me in February. At this time of the year winter really starts to get on my nerves, and I sink into a bit of a lull. This is pretty common, apparently, many people feel this way at this time.

 

Alise, of course, hasn't been sleeping well and is starting to find simple movements quite difficult. Apparently this is my fault and the fault of 'my' son (as he is always referred to when he's making her uncomfortable). These two things, combined with our failures recently to properly 'relax' (when we're home we always say 'lets relax after we do this') made me spring into action yesterday, and find a mini solution.

 

Alise and I both enjoy staying in a hotel room. There's nothing quite like the comfort of a fresh bed, a big TV, a bathroom just steps away, and room service. There is actually a really nice hotel that's a 5 minute walk from our house, which I considered for this weekend. We both like to swim though, so I decided that I'd just do a Priceline.com search for something in Boston that had a good chance at a pool. I went with the 'name your own price' thing, so we wouldn't know in advance where we'd spend the night, but I selected 4* or higher in the area.

 

For anyone wondering why I chose to take Alise on a mini vacation in the city in which we live, instead of going further afield; I say this. She's 8 months pregnant, I'd like to stay close to her hospital. We don't really care where we are anyway, it's the room and relaxation that's important.

 

So, I settled down in front of Priceline.com to name my own price.

 

I've tried this before, but the feeling never changes. I actually picture William Shat-ner standing behind me, just like on the commercials. Coaching me, teasing me, insulting me.

 

'Median price for a 4* in Boston is $150', I said. 'I'll bid $100'

'Is that the best you can do?' Shat-ner scoffs.

'Okay, $80. $80 is fair, that'll get us something'

'Namby Pamby', he sneers

'FINE! FINE SHAT-NER! FUCK YOU! $60! THERE! $60 BASTARD BUCKS! STICK THAT IN YOUR STARSHIP-FUCKING-ENTERPRISE YOU TALENTLESS WANKER!'

 

To my shock, and the shock of William Shat-ner, it worked. I got us a room in a 4* hotel near to the airport. It has a pool, a fitness center, a beautiful restaurant, and room views of either the city skyline, the harbor, or the airport runway. I'm secretly hoping for a view of the airport runway. I love watching planes take off and land.

 

So hopefully, we'll have a nice relaxing weekend, free from the worries of 'things we should be doing'. I'll take photos, hopefully of planes. 

B.I.G.

I received an email from a reader of this blog yesterday.

 

She told me that her daughter was born 5 weeks ago, and was 10.5 lbs. TEN AND A HALF POUNDS!! That's a big babeh.

 

A friend here at work has a son who has just turned 2, and is 3 feet tall. THREE FEET!! That's a big toddler.

 

All of which is making me wonder if Alise and I severely underestimated the size of our child. We have bought a lot of clothes, ranging in sizes from 'newborn' to 18 months. We are fully aware that babies grow quickly, but now are worrying that he won't even get to wear some of these clothes. If our boy is over 10 pounds when he's born, he'll likely already be too big for the newborn stuff, how upsetting will that be?

 

Thankfully, we do know people who are having boys after us. Clothes will be passed along, possibly still with tags on. When he grows too big for his crib it will convert into a toddler bed and we'll get our money's worth out of that. The changing table will be storage for other things. We'll cope with his growth.

 

But still. Some babies are born big, some grow fast. What's the rush little ones? Do you have any idea how cute some of these clothes are? Don't you even care?

A message from beyond the womb...

 

Dear Alise and Jeremy,

 

As we have previously discussed, I will be arriving for my stay with you guys on Monday, March 15th. I trust that you have everything ready for my arrival, but wanted to remind you of the following.

 

* I will arrive naked. I will not bring any clothes with me. Please ensure that clothes are provided.

* I do not speak your language. I shall make attempts to learn, but this will take some time. Until that point, I shall communicate to you in shrieks and cries. Learn what each mean, it'll benefit us both.

* I will be hungry, often. I prefer homemade food, ifyaknowwhatImean.

* I do not care to fit into your schedules. I will wake when I want to, eat when I desire, and sleep when I am sleepy. Clocks, appointments, and your sanity mean nothing to me.

* Please clean me. And please change me. When you change me, clean me too. When you've just changed me, prepare to change me again. I cannot control what goes on down there and frankly have no desire to learn right now.

* I really like things that rattle. They bring out the ultra-cute animal in me.

* Please arrange for me to be monitored at all times. Even when asleep. Listen to me while I sleep, and watch me when I'm awake. At times, both listen and watch. Worry about me constantly, if you don't mind; and never leave me alone with Coco.

* I have no money. I shall pay you in smiles and possibly giggles. You cannot resell these.

* I shall not stay for long, only around 20 years or so. At this point you will help me to find somewhere else to live, and keep my room open for return visits.

* There better be monkeys in my room.

 

I'm sure that if the above is adhered to, we'll have a smashing time together.

 

With love,

 

Boy.

Video Diary!

The nursery is pretty much done!! To celebrate, a special video diary. Happy Sunday and Valentine's Day everyone!

Happy Long Weekend!

I don't have much to say today, apart from Happy Valentine's Day for Sunday, and happy long weekend for all of those that qualify. We are planning to finish the nursery and put everything together, and hopefully getting some much deserved rest. We're into the final stretch now and this will be the last long weekend before the boy gets here, and we are hoping that we'll make the most of it and have fun, sleep, and enjoy each others company.

'S No Snow

So yesterday I, along with the rest of the people in my building, and along with many workers in Massachusetts, were allowed to go home early so as to avoid getting snarled in the monster snowstorm that was rapidly approaching. Alise heeded the early warnings and worked from home, and we all gathered around computer monitors checking the forecasts. None of us really thought to look out of the window, because we live in the 21st century now and we're way more advanced than that. If we'd thought to look out of the window we'd have seen that it was actually raining; but technology beats reality, and we left at noon.

 

It ended up basically raining all day. Sometimes it snowed, but not significantly. It was a faux storm, and we were allowed home early for nothing.

 

At least this gave me a chance to start putting together the changing table. I've finished the first draft. It currently looks kind of like a drunken crib, and will bear the weight, comfortably, of a paper towel. Nothing more.

 

I'll finish it this weekend. We both have a long weekend, so we're planning on doing laundry, cleaning a bit, finishing up the nursery, and playing Playstation. We'll fit it all in, hopefully.

Snow Day!

Alise and I are both at home, having a snow day. Alise worked from home today, while my office closed at noon because of the impending storm.

Funny thing is, it's now 4pm and there really isn't any snow to speak of! It's currently snowing, but not settling. I'm therefore sitting on the couch, coffee in hand, watching Aston Villa v's Manchester United.

I did start to put together the Ikea changing table a couple of hours ago. I then swore quite a lot, threw down the Ikea key thingy that's supposed to help me, and promised that I'd go back to it and finish it shortly.

I might take a nap first though...

We're Keeping an Eye on You...

We had another ultrasound this morning.

 

Because Alise has Crohn's, and is therefore classified as 'high risk', we've been getting very regular ultrasounds and appointments with her various doctors. I swear that this child has been photographed more often than I have, but it is wonderful to keep knowing that he is developing well and is healthy. According to the OBG/YN, if Alise were to go into labor now they wouldn't even try to stop it with drugs, they'd just get her in for the birth. That's a pretty scary, but also comforting thought.

 

We ended up watching some of the Superbowl on Sunday, cheering fairly halfheartedly for the Saints. I'm really trying to learn this sport so that if our son develops an interest, I'll be able to at least converse with him without him calling me 'lame' to my face. That'll probably happen anyway. But still! I'm trying. While we watched it, we reckoned that with our height, our fairly sporting figures, and our genes; there could be a possibility that he might have the physique to one day play the sport; we built an image of him as Tom Brady, dashing, athletic, strong and draped in supermodels.

 

This morning, driving away from the ultrasound, reality tried to cross the road.

 

A young man, probably about ten years old, hovered on the sidewalk near to a pedestrian crossing. He hesitated a few times, dancing in the road, as he looked at us. I waved him across (since 1, I'm nice like that and 2, IT'S THE LAW). He was carrying what looked like a musical instrument in a black case, and he wore glasses. He looked a little uncomfortable, a little lost, and little like I often do.

 

'That's our future', Alise said. I had no choice but to agree.

Good Friends + Baby Shower = 'Stuff'

Friends are so cool. We are still both on a bit of a high after the weekend, we had a great time on Saturday at the shower, and then met up with Stacy, Ken and Kate for breakfast on Sunday. Alexandra joined us, before we dropped her off at the bus station so that she could get back to NYC.

 

Of course, with more 'stuff' we needed more places to store 'stuff'. We took advantage of it being Superbowl Sunday and went to Ikea last night, where we bought a changing table (with shelves to put 'stuff' on), and some containers and cute boxes to store the rest of the 'stuff'. We have a long weekend coming up, so we'll spend a day putting together Ikea furniture (I need at least a day and plenty of patience/coffee/naps to do this), and we'll put the final touches to the nursery. We are really getting close to D Day now, and while we are nervous as all hell; we're pretty much ready for this life-changing event. We have another ultrasound tomorrow morning, and we'll see where the boy is and what he's doing in there.

 

He's been very active recently. When he first started to visually move Alise's stomach with his kicks they were few and far between, and felt to me, an 'outsider', like gas, bubbles, or butterflies. Now if Alise 'spoons' me in bed with her belly to my back, our boy kicks me in the kidneys. That woke me up the other day. That was kind of trippy.

A long and Wonderful Day

We're home now, after having a lovely day.

It was the 'friends' baby shower today. We started by picking up our awesome friend Alexandra from the bus station, after she suffered the greyhound from NYC for 4 hours to be here with us today. We really appreciated that she came, and she's currently sitting with us on the couch (this in no way influences the things I'm saying about her, by the way).

We then went to the shower, hosted by another of our awesome friends, Stacy. Stacy has also been wonderful throughout this pregnancy, and hosted a great party.

We were joined by close friends and had a great time. I'm almost afraid to list people for fear of forgetting anyone; but thanks to Stacy, Ken, Kate, Jenny, Craig, Kathy, Ian, Hollie, Barbara, Ellie, Alexandra, Shawn, Laura and Kris. You're all brilliant and generous friends and we really appreciate your presence (and your presents, of course!) Stacy was a great host and kept everyone fed, watered and entertained, and she'll never know how much we truly appreciate her.

This is far too sappy for even the baby daddy to bear, but the warmth of friends is something that melts him sometimes. Thanks everyone, you're the best.

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News...

We met with the doctor on Wednesday evening.

As I mentioned before, this was a meet and greet session to give us the opportunity to 'interview' the person who will be responsible for the health of our boy. It's a big decision, and we need to know that the person that we choose is someone that we like, that we feel is competent, and that we feel will always have the best interests of our child at heart.

We ended up spending about an hour chatting with the doctor. He was very interested to hear all about our boy and our lives, and seemed very knowledgeable. He knows all about Crohn's, and has certainly heard about the medications that Alise is taking.

One of the biggest questions that we have in relation to Crohn's is that of breastfeeding. There is little information out there about the chance of the medication transferring to the baby through milk, and it has left us both a little nervous. Alise would like to breastfeed and I support this decision 100%, but we both aware and wary of the risks that this may pose. The latest research that Alise has uncovered about this is that it is probably safe, and baby should just be monitored to ensure that no harm is coming to him.

This is where the doctor excelled, in my eyes. He told us that his priority is for the health of the child, but that he understands our desire to breastfeed. He told us that he would talk with colleagues and do more research himself, before coming back to us with his recommendation. He seem like the kind of doctor who would much rather tell us the right thing over the thing that'll make us happy, which is really one of the qualities that I prefer in my medical homies. This doctor can stay.

Mind = Blown

Did you know that John Tyler, the 10th President of the United States who served in office between 1841 and 1845 was a grandfather? Amazing right?

No? Well how about this. Two of his grandchildren are alive today. Serious! The President had a son when he was around 70, that son fathered a child, born in 1928 and still alive today, also when he was in his 70's. This is my 'blow your mind fact of the day' for today.

You see, that's the thing about being a bloke. You can throw your seed around whenever you want, and there will be a pretty good chance that a tree shall grow. It is remarkably common for men to be able to father after they reach the age of retirement.

Not so, of course, for women. Alise is in remarkably good shape for her age and looks years younger than she actually is, and has taken good care of her body. There will however come a point when she is past childbearing age, and the opportunity to give a sibling to our firstborn will pass. Perhaps this is why people are already asking if we are going to have another child?

To me, it's a crazy question. 'Are you going to have another?' people ask. 'Hold your fucking horses!' I reply, 'We haven't had one yet!'. It's a little like having a jet-pack on order, and being asked if we'll buy another one in a couple of years. How about we play with this jet-pack and see if we like it, yeah?

I suppose though, considering the age thing, it's a valid question. I just wish people would let us have this one and enjoy him for a while first, you know?

Shopping!!!

We're going shopping tonight.

We're shopping for a Pediatrician. We've shopped around online but now we are ready to meet one in the flesh. We took some recommendations from neighbors, and have high hopes that the one that we are meeting with is going to work for us.

We did consider a different place, and called them to make an appointment. As far as I'm concerned we are customers, so we deserve to be treated as such. When we called them we were told that 1) We would have to pay $20 to walk in the door, 2) we could only visit them at hours that didn't really work for us, and 3) We couldn't speak with a lactation specialist while we were there. I finished the call to that place with a 'ok, thank you very much yousnarkysnidebitch' and hung up. We tried to call again, and this time Alise spoke to the same woman. She tried to ask a few questions about the doctors and their specialties, but she was pretty rude and curt, so Alise ended her call in much the same way that I did.

I've always thought that the friendliness of a receptionist is key to my feelings about the company or organization as a whole. The receptionist is the first person that we will speak with when we are calling in a panic, the receptionist is someone who will either reassure us, or infuriate us. The receptionist that I spoke with at this particular place was a bitchy snarky fuckface, and we won't be speaking with her again.

We then called a local hospital, which is actually a 10 minute walk from our house. The receptionist here was lovely, friendly, and told us that we absolutely did not have to pay to come and speak with them. Alise asked her the same questions that she had asked the snarkysnidebitch, and she was very helpful. She even said to one question 'I'm not entirely sure myself, hang on, I'll find out and call you back in 10 minutes', and was true to her word. She was reassuring, and I know that if we speak with her in a panic she'll be experienced and caring enough to direct us properly.

So, we have high hopes for this place. The Doctor is a specialist in pediatrics and pediatric gastroenterology, which considering that we both have crohn's in our family is a selling point. We shall see...

Groundhog Day!

Punxsutawney Phil, the most famous of the groundhogs, has today 'declared' that there will be an early spring this year. I approve this message.

It has been a pretty bitter winter. We haven't (yet) had a ton of snow, but it has been very cold. We do try to keep the house fairly warm but we're aware that heat costs money and we're a pretty frugal couple. The other night/morning when I stayed up to watch the tennis it was very chilly downstairs, and I wrapped myself in a blanket. Our pet mouse on Saturday seemed to be having difficulty and her body temperature was very low, so Alise held her in her cleavage for a while to warm her bones.

There has, though, been a few signs that this winter may be breaking. It is now lighter in the evenings, it's not pitch black when I get off the train. There is little snow/ice left on the ground, and I came to work this morning without long-johns. Time continues to fly, seasons pass, baby will soon be coming.

For some reason though, I'm still obsessed with the temperature and I know that I will be year round when the baby arrives. When he gets here we won't just be able to sleep through the cold, we'll have to 'get up' to tend to him. The house will need to be warmer for longer. I want him to live in a world of comfort, warmth and love; not in a place of cold air, sharp corners, and winter illness. God, I'm nesting.

The bathroom is done and looks a million times better than it did. The nursery is basically finished, but needs to be cleaned and things need to be put up. Right now it looks good, but a little bare and sterile. I want it to be cozy, full of light, full of joy. I want things on the ceiling and things on the walls. I want rugs on the floor and toys in a yet-to-be-purchased chest. I want little books on the shelves and socks in little baskets. I want there to not be a modem in there. I want to windows that do not rattle when the wind blows. I want for him everything that I could never have. I want him to be happy, healthy, and be able to hear properly. I want to give him the sun and the moon and the stars. I want him to be safe, secure, and loved.

Sometimes I know want too much. Sometimes I know have to settle for less. This isn't one of those times.


EDIT: Wikipedia apparently gave me duff information this morning. The groundhog actually predicted 6 more weeks of winter. Stupid groundhog.

DON'T PANIC! EVERYONE CALM DOWN! OH GOD OH GOD!!

 

After the trials of Friday, with the early morning hospital visit, and coming at the end of what was a pretty eventful and tiring week, a massage was a welcome treat for Alise.

 

As part of her birthday I bought Alise a massage at the local 'Massage Envy'. She was already pregnant at the time, and enjoyed it so much that I signed up to buy her one pre-natal massage per month, for 6 months. She had her fifth on Friday, and we'll hopefully be able to squeeze one more in before baby comes.

 

I drive Alise to the massage place, mainly because when she comes out of the place she's sleepy and super relaxed; so driving home might not be the safest thing for her. Usually I drop her off there and then go over the road where there is a supermarket and CVS, and I waste an hour comparison shopping. I go into CVS and see how much the Gatorade (for example) is, then go next door to the supermarket to see how much it is in there. I then buy a load of crap, pile it in the car, and go wait the last 10 minutes for Alise to come out.

 

Last Friday I was still on high alert after our false alarm that morning. I figured that the people at Massage Envy would be very capable if Alise were to actually go into labor or something. Alise would call me on my cell phone, I'd be there within a minute.

 

And then I remembered that Alise had left her cell phone at home. I started to feel sick.

 

We rely so much on cell phones these days, but they really are terribly useful things. I doubt though that Alise knows my cell phone numbers, since to call me she dials 'contacts - jeremy - call'. Without having her phone, I'm uncontactable.

 

I mentioned this to Alise when I picked her up. 'You have to make sure you have your cell phone on your person from now on!' I told her.

 

We then went to Target on Saturday night, partly to get out of the house where paint fumes were present. Paint fumes are apparently not safe for a preggo, so we got some fresh air. I had a terrible headache, and Alise needed to pee (surprise surprise!) and look at maternity clothes, so we arranged that I'd go and get painkillers and water, she'd pee, and we'd rendezvous at the clothing section.

 

After buying and taking pills, I tried to find her. Nowhere to be found. I tried calling her on her cell, no answer. I swooped around the store, increasingly frantically, trying to find her. Calling her, not getting an answer, panicking. I eventually got to the fitting rooms where I asked the clerk 'young lady? big red coat? pregnant? here??'.

 

Of course, Alise was trying on clothes. Her cell phone still at home heard only by the cats and Coco. I wasn't happy, and I think it's accurate to say that I scolded her.

 

Which... is a little too much; probably. I am a little too worried these days, and I'm a little annoying. Alise did take it in good heart (as per usual, patience of a saint that woman), and promised that she would from that point forth carry her cell phone on her at all times; but I really should also learn to calm down; just a little. Otherwise the next time that we rush to the hospital it might not be for her, or for the baby.

Aww.... Is someone Mr. Cranky? Does he need a nap?

I'll be perfectly honest with you... I'm a little cranky right now. Andy Murray lost the tennis, I didn't get nearly enough sleep, and I've been trying to fix my 'slow as ass' computer for a while now. It's not the recipe for a good mood.

We did though have a lovely time in New Hampshire at the family baby shower. I have added some photos below... Ill try to get the rest onto flickr and let you see all of them without having to twist your head from side to side :)


EDIT: Suck-sess!!! The flickr stream to your right has now been updated. Feel free to peruse the photos of the family baby shower, with bonus 'is the camera working? I'll take photos of the animals before we leave' shots. Enjoy.

Tonight, I'm Scottish

Tonight, I'm doing something that most people would consider a little crazy. I'm forcing myself to stay awake, so that I can watch the Australian Tennis Open Men's Final, between Roger Federer (boo!) and Andy Murray (yay!!).

Alise thinks I'm nutso. I think this is basically for two reasons.

1) She really isn't a big sports fan.

She enjoys sports, she shows an interest in sports, but she isn't fanatical. This really isn't a bad thing; in fact its probably a good thing. Being a sports fan can be a curse that you live with for life, and the overpaid idiots that you support often end up sucking more and more as your life progresses. My football (soccer) team, Nottingham Forest, for years developed new and interesting ways to suck even more than they had the season before, yet still I love them, for I am an addict.

2) Alise is American, and I don't think she understands.

Now, let me explain. You see, I'm British. British people, quite simply; suck at sports. There are 4 major tennis tournaments played each year, but a British man hasn't won one for 74 years. 74 years! Do you know how many Americans have won in that time? A shit-ton. The Brits, despite the fact that one of the tournaments is in their own bloody country and played on grass, which no-one else does anymore, historically suck at tennis. We're awful, we're terrible, most of the British top 10 serve underarm and are allowed to let the ball bounce twice before trying to hit it back.

We don't just suck at tennis. We invented a lot of sports, we export them to other countries, and are soundly beaten every time we play. Cricket matches against Australia usually end in our tears. We lose rugby games against the likes of New Zealand by horrific scorelines, our football (soccer) team hasn't won the World Cup since 1966, and only won it then when it was held in England and we benefited from some very dodgy refereeing in the final. We suck, we know we suck, everyone else knows we suck.

But sometimes... sometimes someone comes along to give us hope. To give us the opportunity to climb a very small stepladder and shout at the tops of our very muted voices 'Hey! America! Sure you always win the Olympics, sure you have Lance Armstrong, Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods (still the best golfer, admit it), Pete Sampras, Carl Lewis and Muhammed Ali, but we have Caroline Smithwickson, the greatest lawn bowls champion this side of Swindon! Rejoice!'

So tonight, I'm Scottish, and remembering that Scotland, despite it's wishes, is a part of the same Great Britain that I'm from. Andy Murray is a terribly talented tennis player and has a chance to end 74 years of hurt. I'll be watching Andy, I'll be cheering.

Bathroom and Shower

This weekend is devoted entirely to the Bathroom, and a shower.

Today, in a fit of motivation rarely seen in this house, I painted the bathroom. In fairness Alise has mentioned the condition of this room many times since she moved in, and this week I decided (entirely on my own) that it was time to repaint. We had some pretty ugly plastic sheet-type tiling before, so I painted over that and tidied up the place. If I do say so myself, it looks pretty good and feels a lot more like a nice bathroom than it did before. I might post photos soon! But I probably won't. I'm a fickle bastard where photos are concerned.

Tomorrow, we go to New Hampshire for the first of our three showers! This one is the 'family shower', Alise's grandparents and many of her aunts, uncles, cousins and nieces live in the Granite State. We're both feeling a little uncomfortable about being at the center of attention at a party thrown for us, but we'll have a great time, I'm sure.

On the subject of showers.... more than a couple of people have asked if I'll be attending. My stock response is usually 'well yeah, why the fuck not?'. Apparently a traditional baby shower is without men, but to me this seems a little too old fashioned. The delivery of the child used to be without males too (apart from the Doctor, he's always a man in old fashioned land), and baby would be only changed and bathed by the mother. I'm planning on being there for the birth, on being a true partner in all of this (hell, I'd breastfeed him if I could), why shouldn't I be a part of the fun things too?

A False Alarm

Alise and I spent this morning in the labor and delivery department this morning.

 

It all started last night when Alise developed what she described as 'something that feels like menstrual cramping'. Apparently, this can be a sign that the baby is coming. We are both painfully aware that first time parents can often jump the gun, so we decided to wait a while before calling anyone.

 

It continued until we went to bed. I slept like a baby (I woke every couple of hours crying until Alise latched me onto her breast); but Alise didn't sleep at all. She had to go to the bathroom every 15 seconds or so, the pain continued.

 

At some point, she called her mom (who currently lives on the west coast and is 3 hours behind us). Her mom confirmed that she may be having contractions.

 

Sometime around 5am, Alise called her doctor and spoke to the person on call. He advised that we should go to the hospital.

 

It's probably a good job that we did. For one, we now actually know where the labor and delivery department of the hospital is (after going to the wrong building once, and the wrong floor in the correct building three times); for two's, we know that the baby is fine and is, on the coldest day of the year, happy to stay inside. They hooked Alise up to monitors, checked that the baby was alright and determined after quite a long time and a couple of tests that he wasn't ready to come out of the oven, just yet.

 

This time it was a false alarm, but still... it made us realize that anything can happen in the next few weeks. Despite the fact that we've scheduled a C-Section for him, he can't yet read emails or calenders and will come when he bloody well wants to.

Drug Rhymes With Hug

Alise and I are both still sick, and are both taking plenty of drugs. Over the counter, of course.

 

The difficulty is that while I can take anything (and have done, I woke in a Nyquil coma this morning and needed Alise to drive me to the train station to avoid being late for work), Alise has to be super careful. If you look at basically any medication, they all state that 'if pregnant or breastfeeding, consult your doctor before taking'.

 

There's a reason that they do this, of course. Drugs are tested on people before release to the general public, but the chances of getting pregnant people to test new drugs are slim. The drug companies (bless them, they're so nice... have you hugged a drug company today?) therefore have to put these warnings on their labels to distance themselves from lawsuits when things go wrong. The downside is that pregnant people really can't take anything without first calling their doctor.

 

To be honest, I'm even reluctant to tell you what Alise has been told that she can take. The baby daddy doesn't want to be sued. To keep things legal I'll just tell you that it sounds something like paltzer spoltzer flus. Oh, and Bobotussin Shmee Flem.

Sleepy Sleepy Sick Sick

Alise and I are both sick at the moment.

 

Yesterday we both started our days feeling a little under the weather, but able to function. Alise has a terrible cough, I have the aches and chills. I think it's basically the same illness, it's just hit us differently.

 

Last night we went to bed early (at around 9pm, we're so old), and tried to sleep. We both had varying success, but woke often. At around 3am we were both dozing back to sleep, when Coco decided to join in, and she let out the strangest 'howl' that I've ever heard come from a dog.

 

Of course I checked on Coco, and she was fine. She looked at me with a 'hey! what are you doing up?' expression, wagged her tail and wondered if it might be breakfast time yet.

 

It was at around 4am that, while trying to get back to sleep again, I realized something. This is how life is going to be, for quite some time. Sure Alise and I both being sick at the same time is rare, but we both desire a good nights sleep and are both often a little cranky if we go without. Pretty soon we'll be interrupted constantly throughout the night by our son, who's crying might well make Coco whine and howl.

 

'There are many things to look forward to', I thought as I tried to console myself last night. But sleep, uninterrupted sleep, isn't one of them.

It's the Final Countdown! (na na na nah, na na na na naahh)

Alise and I had an ultrasound this morning.

Mother and baby are both doing very well. The boy is now just over 5 pounds (which is about 7 dollars, for Americans), and he's in the 67th percentile, growth wise. That means that while he's big, he's not huge and he's developing nicely. The doctor even thinks that she saw hair on his head (curly, like his daddy) and he's currently taking the upside down position, his head is to the lower left of Alise's belly, his little arse wedging itself close to her ribs.

To be totally honest, this is all still a little surreal to me. If that baby were to decide to come out now, he'd likely be fine (albeit in the hospital for a while, no doubt). There is a living human being inside of Alise right now, her net total of legs is currently four. She has twenty fingers, two hearts, and one penis. Alise is currently making hair for someone else. It's all a bit strange.

But, this isn't going to last for much longer. We have less than seven weeks now until he comes out to join us. That's not long, is it?

Welcome to the Hellmouth

When I got to the office this morning, it was 107 degrees. I'm not exaggerating. Apparently the heating system broke down over the weekend, and instead of taking cold air from outside and heating that up, it was heating the already hot air inside the building... over, and over, and over. It's making me feel quite uncomfortable, and I have to go to the bathroom a lot to expel the gallons of water that I've been drinking.

 

Of course, this is temporary. I can take a walk outside, where it's a lovely 45 degrees. The worst case scenario is that the heat remains oppressive for the remainder of the day, but it'll be back to normal tomorrow. I'm leaving work at 4:30pm, and will soon be comfortable. Life really isn't that bad.

 

I've emailed with Alise to tell her of these conditions, naturally. She's being very sympathetic and asks for updates. I'm sure that if I were her though, I'd be thinking 'yeah? you have to pee all the time? that's got to suck... what's that like?', and 'Oh really? you feel uncomfortable? How terrible for you! come back to me in five months if it's still the same, jackass'.

 

Pregnancy really isn't a piece of cake, you know. Alise has had a remarkable trouble free time, but there are still side effects. The weight of the baby belly and her boobs has put a great strain on her back, and her movements are now slower and more deliberate. The constant need to pee has been ever-present throughout this pregnancy, and she's having a hard time sleeping. My son (as he is often called when he's acting up) apparently takes great pleasure in kicking his mommy from the inside, and Alise has likened his antics at times to his trying to rip out her ribs as though they are bars on a window.

 

Alise. For all of the times recently that I've told you that my back hurts, my knees hurt, or that I'm just generally uncomfortable; I apologize. I really do.

 

Video Diary!

For those of you that have followed this blog from the beginning, and who may like to go back and view all of the video diaries, you may find that some of them have 'expired'. Worry not, I have copies of them all saved onto my computer and I will find somewhere more permanent to put them on the interwebs.

For now, settle for this. Last week we went on a river walk with Coco, on one of those days when it was nice enough to be outside, but cold enough for there to still be snow on the ground. It actually hasn't snowed properly here for a couple of weeks but everywhere still has an icy tundra feel, it's slippery outside and we've both nearly fallen on the ice. Bastard winter, I shall celebrate your demise!

Who ate all the pies?

 

Alise and I both had a weigh in last night.

 

Alise has been gaining weight gradually, and steadily. I shall not reveal her poundage on this blog because I'm a gentleman, and also because I prefer my testicles to be attached to my body; but suffice it to say, she's gained some. She didn't have any morning sickness as we started this journey (thankfully), and had a healthy appetite so at a time when a lot of mothers to be actually lose weight, she was starting to bulk up. She's still wonderfully healthy and generally happy, and looks radiant. I did (cruelly) compare her pose while putting on her boots to that of an unbalanced turkey, but I hope that she knows that I truly think that she's beautiful, balanced, and providing a fine first home to our son.

 

I also weighed myself. I've also put on weight. I do not have an excuse.

 

In the last month or so, I've put on something like 7 pounds. 7 pounds!! I'm now 153 pounds and am the heaviest that I've ever been. I tried to explain to Alise that my hair does need cutting, I did need to blow my nose and that my socks were terribly heavy; but I didn't kid her or myself. I'm getting fat, and it needs to stop.

 

It is, apparently, common. Father's to be often gain weight during the pregnancy, and along with the mother lose it once the poop-monster is unveiled. For me though, this represents a sizable gain and comes without any real excuse. Perhaps I've been eating a little more? I certainly shouldn't be this heavy.

 

I think it probably comes down to karma. If there is someone upstairs (or downstairs, whatever) who can control these things, he (or she, whatever) probably overheard my turkey comment and decided to act. Message received I say, message received.

Don't you want the best for your baby?

We completed the registry a couple of weeks ago.

For anyone interested, you can go to www.babiesrus.com and search for the registry using 'Alise Brann' as registrant, or 'Jeremy Crossland' as co-registrant. While there, please take a moment to examine some of the more ingenious, and some of the utterly crazy things that you can now buy for baby.

Of course, babies are a multi-billion dollar industry these days. In days of old children needed just smaller clothes and possibly diapers (cloth, of course), and slept wherever they were put. We both know people who spent a night or two in a drawer, and they seemed to make it through infancy without too many problems. Now of course whenever you go into a store you are bombarded with 'You need this!', 'You're not seriously thinking about going without this are you??' and of course 'Don't you want the best for your child? Then get this!'. It's a little silly, really; and we've tried to stick to things that we actually think we might like.

Some of the things available now actually do seem kind of clever, but in hindsight might not give great value. There is a little bath thing (on our list), that has a little hand operated shower so that you can bathe the baby in a full sized bath and give them a little shower. It's something that I saw and thought 'OMG! THAT'S SO KEWL!', but in all honesty my parents home made version (called 'a mug') was probably just as effective. However. I liked it, so it's on the list.

Some of the things really do seem to have a good purpose. They now sell a pacifier that also doubles as a thermometer. This is a great idea, and it went onto our list.

Some of the things are so funny that they had to be included. They now sell a breast milk testing kit, to test your milk for alcohol levels. perfect for those 'Oh my god, how much did we drink at the casino last night? Fuck knows! Better test the milk, to be on the safe side' moments. I had no idea that these existed, and despite the fact that Alise hardly drinks at all; I stuck it on the list as a gag gift.

Some of the things available now, I thank the lord for. There are now many different types of thermometers available, 'rectal' isn't the only option. Thank you lord, thank you.

If you're having a baby, go easy in there. Some of the things that you buy will be totally useless, some will save your sanity. We have no idea what kind of boy he will be and what he will like, but at least we know that we'll be able to take his temperature in a slightly less intrusive way than when I was a child.

Welcome, Olive

Trust me, I know what you're thinking.

Getting a new kitten was a terrible idea. We have enough on our plates as it is, and we still had three cats. Losing Iris was a terrible experience, but we should probably have been thankful for all that we have and probably shouldn't have taken in a new cat.

But! We got her, and we love her. We've named her Olive (though she usually goes by 'Kitten'), and she's wormed her way firmly into our hearts. She's obsessed with Alise and will sleep on her pillow (just as Iris would), and has formed an unlikely love affair with Coco. They are both crazy about each other, and have quickly become best friends despite Coco being a 70 pound dog and Olive being a 2 pound kitten.

Make no mistake, Iris was irreplacable. But Olive is a wonderful cat who has already given us a lot of joy.

In 'bump' news, Alise now has quite the belly! I promise that photos will follow shortly. For now, you'll have to make do with a couple of photos of the kitten, guaranteed to make you say 'aaww'.

More about how much I suck

I apologize, I'm sorry, j'ai le regret.

 

I think the reason for my absence on this blog really boils down to my fears for the future.

 

For the longest time, Alise really showed no signs of pregnancy. We both knew that baby was coming; but we weren't hit by daily reminders. We went on a traumatic yet lovely trip to DC. We lost Iris and cried buckets, and we worried over Coco's condition for weeks. We still worry over Coco's condition. Thoughts of 'baby' kind of went to the backs of our minds.

 

And then, recently; it smacked us again. WE'RE HAVING A BABY! A BABY BOY! A PENIS HOLDING POOP MACHINE! It's scary.

 

So maybe I decided to just not update the blog, because to do so would mean that I wouldn't have to think about the baby. Maybe that day felt a little easier to cope with. Maybe the next day I felt the same. Maybe I hid my head in the sand while we busied ourselves with things like 'snow', and 'Christmas', and 'our new kitten'.

 

But now its the new year, and a baby is coming. We are having at least 3 baby showers (more showers than I have myself in a typical month), the nursery is nearly ready to accept guests, and we're back on the baby agenda.

 

My head is out of the sand and I'm back on the blog. Let's roll!

Whisper... Whisper it softly...

guess who's back... back again. baby daddy's back... tell your friends.

It has been a while! But in the spirit of Christmas, New Year and MLK jr day, let's all celebrate our return from the wilderness and not ask any silly questions. K? K!

Truth be told, there was no real reason for my absence Life did get shit for a while what with the nightmare trip to DC, the passing of our beloved Iris, and then a Coco 'bloat' incident (she seems fine now, thanks). But now I'm back and we all have A LOT to catch up on!