Category: lessons learned

Dinner conversation changed to the topic of the sum of the angles inside a polygon. Dad was trying to remember the formula ((n-2)x180), and then explain it to Puff. 

We were talking about hexagons, and then octagons, and Dad told Puff the formula. 

“N-2”. So for an octagon, which has eight sides, N is 8. What is n-2?

“A hexagon!”

A useful list of the different types of hugs.

The next step in getting puff’s room ready (though an optional one) is to paint the room. We’ve picked some colours, bought some sample pots (and all the brushes and such), so now I just have to paint the sample colours onto the wall.

How do you paint a wall? I didn’t know either, but this video on painting a wall makes it sound easy enough.

And we’re done! Managed to leave my sick bed long enough to sit down for this last two-and-a-half hour session.

We watched a SIDS video: the current thinking is that nothing should be in the cot – to avoid a choking hazard, that we lay the baby on its back (and change which end of the cot the baby sleeps every month or so, to stop one side of the head being pressed down too much), and not to smoke around the baby.

In groups, we had different questions to answer about coping with challenges that will arise after the birth: one suggestion that was memorable was having a list of household chores at the front door: when guests visit to see the baby, instead of stressing about looking after the baby, and the guests, a guest can do one of the chores while you look after the baby.

We then passed a doll (one of the ones we tried nappy changing on in week one) around the circle, only this time, the doll was playing a tape of a crying baby. Everyone had to come up with strategies for having the baby settle. Some of the parents were coping better than others with the sound of 15 minutes’ worth of crying: especially tricky was that as it was a tape, there was no way of knowing if your attempts at settling the baby were working.

We ended the night by playing a game of jeopardy: dads vs mums. Thanks in some small part to my knowledge of the epidural cavity, and a lot more to do with some of the things the other guys could remember, the boys won a book – “the nappy bag book”.

And with that, it was all done: we meet again in October for a reunion, with our kids in tow. It’s been a worthwhile series to go through: to share the experience of going from not knowing much about what to expect all the way through to having some vague idea of what to expect.

How quickly the weeks pass by. This week we were running late, and so we had to watch the start of the “issues with newborns” video in the break: there are a lot of things that are quite normal for newborn babies that can seem like major health issues, and the video attempts to show what some of the normal things are, so that there’s slightly less time spent stressing out. Some have cool names, like Cephalhaematoma, others are more mundane, like jaundice. We learned about the different ways to treat the real issues that come up, and when to just think that maybe the baby has overheated because they’ve been wrapped in a heavy blanket.

From there, we split into a blokes group – who headed upstairs to talk about issues around impending fatherhood, and any concerns that we might have (I’m sworn to secrecy on the specifics, but it was a helpful chat) – and a women group, who talked, it seemed, about all the post-natal health issues that might crop up, and what to expect in the first few days of the baby’s life.

Then we joined back together and talked a little about post-natal depression: it affects people to different extents: the mildest being the baby blues that hit around day 3, up to full-blown psychosis that can take place a couple of weeks in.

Overall, it was good to keep talking to the people that we’ve met in the course so far: it will be a little bit sad for it all to be over, I think!

This week, we looked at births where something goes wrong – we saw the difference between a normal birth, a semi-emergency caesarian, and an emergency caesarian. We also had the chance to hold a foetal scalp probe, the vacuum that is used to aid in birth, and see the forceps (albeit at a distance).

We then watched a birth DVD, but not the one that you read about in the various books, a much milder version. Apparently, people have complained about the other video being too graphic and scary, but what’s the point of a video if it doesn’t prepare you for the big day?

Lastly, we looked at the relative merits of breastfeeding and bottle feeding. It looks like the success of breastfeeding is tied to how well the husband supports the wife’s efforts: it sounds like about 80% of the people who try and breastfeed give up earlier than they’d like to.

helpful article from relevant on the lifestyle changes that can help prepare new parents, without talking about the mechanics of being a parent.

Another Thursday night rolls around, and we’re back at the hospital. The group of people around the room is starting to get slightly more familiar, and we even make a few attempts at conversation over the free food (mm.. individually wrapped tim tams).

This week, we’re talking about pain management strategies, both natural, and medical. We split into dads (eep) and mums, and talk about what our different options are. The men haven’t thought about this all that much, even having done the homework in the lead-up, but it seems that the key to getting through the labour as a good support person is to come up with ways to distract the wife from what’s going on.

Kel and I run through a few things that won’t be helpful: it looks like she’s not going to buy into the “you’re doing a great job” rhetoric, but that I might just have a chance with “look, I managed to get us to the right hospital!” or something similar.

There are a *lot* of different ways to distract someone who’s in labour, and the general impression I get is that none of them will be terribly successful for very long, but that its worth a try anyway.

We then look at the medical coping strategies: basically, in increasing order, that’s gas (a mix of 50% nitrous oxide and 50% oxygen), pethidine (which can give the baby some trouble breathing if it arrives too soon after you’re given the drug), and the epidural, which looks even more fiddly than I thought it was, and can – if messed up – give migraines and other unpleasantness.

Is there any other situation in life where you have options of what pain-killers to take? The whole thing is surreal. We stick to our original thinking, which is to hold out from using the pain killers for as long as possible.

From there, we go to the labour ward for a quick tour. The whole place looks like a hotel that has been converted to a hospital: the delivery suite has an ensuite bathroom with a spa bath, and even has fake wood lino, not just scary hospital grey lino.

And then we’re done. Another week closer to the birth. Looks like we’ll at least be comfortable for this whole experience, whenever it happens: there’s a bit of a drive to get from our place to the hospital, so I’m a bit anxious that we’ll be stuck in peak-hour traffic, but I guess we’ll have to see what happens.

A late booking means that instead of getting all the pre-natal classes out of the way in a single weekend, we are turning up on 5 consecutive Thursday nights. We arrive – a little late – for the 7pm start, and sit awkwardly around the edge of a room: all the girls are at least 28 weeks pregnant, and all of the guys look uncomfortable, in varying degrees.

We learn later that it’s not easy being the support person: you’re not quite sure what you are meant to do, and whatever it is that you choose to do, it will doubtless feel ineffective.

I’m struck by the conviction that
– I’m not likely to get much sympathy for this during the actual event
– I wouldn’t swap places with Kel for quids.

After a get-to-know you game (everyone here is having their first baby), we start learning about the physiology of the baby: some diagrams explain why it is that as you head towards the big day, there are a lot more trips to the bathroom. It turns out that everything else in a pregnant lady’s body is pushed out of the way to make room for the baby: who knew.

Only a few of us seem to have done much reading, and know the technical names for the various bits that are pointed out to us. For an eerie moment, it feels like being on a gameshow, but the moment passes.

After that, we learn about the different phases of labour, how to tell them apart, and – thanks to some small group work after the break – what kinds of symptoms demand a trip to the hospital, in case something should be wrong. Highly useful stuff.

Chatting to some of the guys during the break, where we drink tea, fruit juice, water or – for the brave, instant coffee, I don’t hear of anyone who thinks that having the wife stay at home full-time after the baby is born would be a bad thing. Neither do I hear from anyone who is in the financial position to afford it. This is not surprising: just to be at these classes is a few hundred dollars (like the other baby expenses, I’m trying not to dwell on it to much), and between the obstetrician and the hospital stay, it’s not a cheap proposition.

After the break, we practice changing nappies, and wrapping a doll the size of a six month old baby: it it pretty easy, but – based on my own limited experience – a poor substitute for the real thing: it will be unusual for the baby to lie perfectly still for the whole time, and for the nappy changing experience to be an exclusively visual activity.

And then, suddenly, it’s over: we’re left trying to remember what we’ve learned, and we have some homework for the next week to see if our own expectations of the birth match up with those of our partner. I’ll be surprised if we’re even remotely close, but that would indeed be a pleasant surprise.

I spoke today to a friend who is from a previous generation – he’s already a grandfather – about how much he knew about kids when he was growing up. In fact, he didn’t know much about babies, except that they were annoying some of the time. As it turns out, nothing much has changed between generations.

One of the things I’ve learned through this pregnancy is that my schooling hasn’t taught me _anything_ about what happens to someone who is pregnant.

A few things I’ve picked up in my reading and observation on the subject:

The first trimester is a rough time. The mum is tired all the time, often feels nauseous, but often has to pretend nothing is wrong, because she won’t have told people she’s expecting. Why will she not have told anyone? Because if something is going to go wrong with a pregnancy, it will happen (most likely) in the first trimester.

All kinds of crazy things happen to a pregnant body: it’s not nearly as much fun as the TV ads might make it look.

With all of the changes, the one thing that hasn’t happened yet is any sensation at all that there might be a baby inside you: the baby is in fact far too small to feel yet (except in the way that you get nausea and the beginning of a change in shape).