That shya's bin sniffin' round

This morning I had a dream that the little monster had been birthed and Sicily was in bed in a white room holding our little baby girl. We both fussed over her. She had a full head of dark hair, the same colour as Sicily's. Sicily and I run through the list of names for girls we had worked out and one of them clicked and their was our daughter and in my dream, looking at her, I started to cry. Which woke me up and there were tears on my cheeks.

We did also have a scan about a week ago and the radiologist wasn't "100% sure" but thought "It's a girl".
Of course we would be just as happy with a boy. A few people have mentioned from the start it's gonna be a girl.
Nonetheless, the whole time I have been writing this blog, I've been conscious of resisting the gender slide toward talking about the baby as a "her" and I deliberately let through that "her", sniffed up by a certain keen-eyed reader.

post script to my mojo disappearance

I actually wrote the post about my mojo and giving up cigarettes three weeks ago. I decided not to post it then because giving up cigarettes is quite a private affair and in the early days, particularly the first three, things feel like they can go either way. Not saying I thought I would fail (or still will) but if I did fail I didn't want it broadcasted on the web.

The problem with giving up cigarettes is how it has affected my writing. I have been reluctant to write because the one time I would reward myself with a cigarette was after I had written something I liked. Most other cigarettes were smoked because I needed them (being addicted), or because it was routine (like a cigarette with coffee). But when I write there's something about going outside and having a cigarette after you have written something you are pleased with. Likewise, there's something about having a cigarette when you are stuck on a sentence and you need to cogitate. There's also something about having a cigarette after you have been writing for a while and need a break, heck, there's just something about cigarettes.....

Why oh why did I give up?

..........

yeah I know, cos it's bad for me, but also, I don't want our child to see me smoking, or to smell stale tobacco when I hold her. I'm not saying I have given up because of the child, but rather, becoming a father is one of those events that provides the impetus to give up.

.....

see, right here, I'm thinking, 'now how can I conclude this post?'
I know, I'll have a cigarette and think about it....

where has my mojo gone?

I’ve worked to deadlines before and they have never really bothered me. I don’t always observe them but I do use them as a mark. Often I have been lackadaisical because I know I can wrangle the deadline to a later date, I know I can get a weeks extension.

Now I feel like I have another deadline far more serious and far more urgent than any I have previously had. Now, the one time I want a certain date for the deadline, is the one time a certain date will not be pinned down. I feel like I have so much to finish before I become a father and all this tenseness and wondering and uncertainty has, over the last month or so, made my mojo disappear. I haven’t even been able to write.

Therefore, I have done the only thing I can think of to make matters more difficult.

I have given up cigarettes.

Further thoughts on hospital versus home birth

A while back we met with Bridget at the hospital delivery suits to have a look at them as an option for the birth. Unfortunately there are only the two options here; hospital or home.

The hospital rooms were quite large and had a separate screened-off bathroom with a toilet and shower/bath. The bath was a decent size. We also saw a birthing pool which they have available. The rooms had some post natal resuscitation equipment and various policy and procedures laminated and stuck to the wall. Apparently the rooms had only been painted six years ago but they hadn’t aged well and there was the distinct feeling of ‘80s institutionalize.

It is an unfortunate fact that in this area there is no inbetween. I have suggested to Sicily that we make the decision democratically. Because there are only the two of us with voting rights (although we listen to all the advisors, we do!) I have suggested that my vote counts for 30% and Sicily’s vote counts for 50% and their is amargin of 20% for the baby to throw its’ lot in. Thus, if Sicily has half a mind to have a home birth and I fully want a home birth then that tallies to a vote of 30% plus 25% from sicily, which gives us a majority of 55%.

Naturally enough, the baby’s vote of 20% could swing things either way, and Bridget agrees that we might well make up our mind on the day.