Lucy gets weighed everyday. After being born at 690 grams, her weights for each of the next 7 days (all in grams) were 730, 580, 560, 620, 650, 670 and 650 (today). The little fluid spike on the second day is followed by a dramatic drop as she literally dried out under the phototherapy lights. She's getting back up to her birth weight now, and the fact that she's started feeding (initally 1mL of breast milk six-hourly, and now the same amount every two hours) should give her weight a small continual boost. Looking forward to when she joins the Big Girl Club - open to all bubs in the unit once they crack the big 1-K-G.

Oh yeah, and after Robs' first cuddle yesterday, this evening it was Daddy's turn. Yep, it was awesome. And thanks to Nanna, this time we had a camera...

Got home from work this evening to a very happy wife. She'd spent 4 hours at the hospital with Lucy, with the highlight being allowed to give Lucy her first mummy-cuddle. This involved Robs leaning back in a recliner, and three nurses manipulating Lucy and all of her monitoring lines and equipment to enable her to lay still on mummy's chest outside her humidicrib for 20 minutes. Even as I write this 9 hours later you still can't wipe the smile off my wife's face.

The other reason for her upbeat mood, was being given some home truths by Lucy's nurse for the day, Rikki. It was explained that we were well and truly entrenched in the 'honeymoon' phase - Lucy still has a healthy dose of positive pregnancy-type hormones kicking around her system at the moment, which is normal post-delivery. However, in the few days these levels will decrease and Lucy's little body will realise that she's not built to survive in the outside world just yet and she'll go through many troughs whilst she struggles to adapt. Rikki also said to prepare ourselves for when Lucy will pick up her first infection. (That's when, not if.) Apparently it's normal for these little preterm gems to pick up 4 or 5 in the course of their NICU stay, so we were encouraged to not let the fact that she hasn't had one yet lull us into a false sense of security.

So why would this negatively-tinged forecast make my wife happy? I suppose being a nurse herself means that she has seen the value in being straight with patients as opposed to bullsh-tting them. Does it make the whole thing ironic? Maybe. Is it unexpected? Perhaps at first, but is it genuine? Most definitely.

And just so we remember we're the proud parents of two beautiful children, here's a photo from the weekend of me horsing around with Oscar. I love this little legend.

L

In today's first (as with all new bubs, there's going to be a lot of 'firsts' over the next few months), Robs got to change Lucy's nappy. This can't be done the traditional way mind you, as even the smallest nappies they make would come up to her armpits. But with some sage advice from our nurse, the job was done with aplomb.

Now, if only the Djoker or Nadal could break the other in this 5th set, I'd be able to go to bed...

Part 2 of 2: Labour and Birth

The first day in King Eddy was probably the worst. When you’re told that baby’s survival chances are greatly enhanced by you not giving birth for 2 days, but for those 2 days you’re going to have contractions, it becomes a rather delicate and anxious situation. Courtesy of the epidural, Robs could only feel the stronger contractions, so each time one of those came along we both had the “Uh oh this might be it, please don’t let this be it” thoughts run through our minds. Robs wasn’t to be left in the room by herself, as it was essential that someone was there to activate the code call should the need arise, so between myself and the rotating midwives it was always ensured that someone was in there.

The other hard bit to digest was what would we do if indeed baby decided to come out in those first 2 days. The various scenarios were carefully explained to us by the consultant obstetrician. Everything from ‘at what point do we undergo an emergency caesarean’ to ‘if baby’s head becomes stuck we’ll need to make a cut in the cervix immediately’ was discussed. It’s fair to say that the first day left us both emotionally drained, and more than a tear or two were shed.

After a sleepless night – for Robs due to ongoing contractions and nurse observations and for me due to the crummy mattress on the floor (I know who had it worse) – we greeted the obstetrician on the second day, who expressed her happiness for Robs still being in one piece. In terms of those lung-fortifying-steroids, it was 24 hours down, 24 hours to go. The message this time? Don’t do anything different! Again, we were told that a baby appearing in the next hour wouldn’t surprise anybody but hey, we’d rode our luck thus far so let’s all hope that we haven’t used it all up just yet. So it was another day of lying and waiting, punctuated by those panicky “Uh oh” moments.

Throughout the whole episode, the staff were amazing. I know Robs appreciated the support and friendship of all the nurses who helped her through those extremely difficult times. Robs was especially touched that almost every midwife that did a shift with us came back the next day to check how she was, even when they were working in a totally different part of the hospital. From my point of view, all the superlatives of praise that are bestowed upon our public health workers from time to time are completely justified.

So again, another sleepless night, but most importantly another birth-less night. When that magical 48^th hour officially ticked past on the third morning a wave of relief washed over us; Of course, we both knew there were no guarantees in any of this, but at least bub would have the best chance possible. Now the extra time gained in the womb would just help baby be that little bit stronger when she decided to arrive – 172 days in utero is a wee bit better than 171 days, which in turn is better than 170 days, which is… etc.

So on Day 3, we almost had a false sense of ‘this isn’t so bad’ about us. I think Robs even half joked that if she had to lie there for another month, well, sobeit. Day 3 duly turned into night 3, and with still no new arrival we were feeling more optimistic about baby’s chance of survival.

The confounding factor, however, was always how smoothly would the birth go. Baby was in the breech position, and the plan was to go through a vaginal delivery. If she became stuck, or required excess manoeuvring to be extricated, that ubiquitous percentage would tumble towards the unwanted end of the scale. A smooth delivery, however, would give us the best possible chance of the most positive outcome.

On the fourth morning, as on each of the others, the obstetrician congratulated Robs for holding on, and then performed the scan. With baby occupying the vagina from her waist down, it was decided that we should prepare for birth today, for it would be better to have the paediatricians in the room so intubation and ventilation could occur without delay. “I’ll see you at 10:30”, the obst said.

10:30am rolled around, and the doctors started to trickle into the room. The plan was simple – turn down the epidural, administer oxytocin (to bring on stronger contractions) and tilt the bed at a slight downward angle. Then wait. An hour of contractions went by, each time Robs trying to describe how it felt/where the pressure was, and then the ultrasound being applied for confirmation of exactly where baby was. With 10 doctors and nurses in the room, all of whom had multiple duties to attend to, the obst decided it would be OK if Robs gave a push during her next contraction. She duly obliged, and all of a sudden, the waters broke with a splat. Then one minute later, on the next push/contraction, a tiny, pink, slimey and gorgeous little thing was taken by the doctor and whisked over to the mobile ventilator where she was attended to by a group of fabulous professionals. Little Lucy had been brought into the world.

After 80 hours in limbo, the birth could not have been any more perfect. And after 80 hours of toughing it out, I’d never been prouder of my wife. 

Got to touch my 5 day old daughter for the first time today, which was unreal.

Here's a pic that gives some perspective to how little she is - and it's not like I have bucket hands either...

Part 1 of 2: Labour and Birth (sorry for the length!)

Last Friday was relatively unremarkable, apart from the thunder, lightning and the accompanying deluge of rain that engulfed the southern suburbs in the morning.  Once the clouds lifted, the January sun appeared with its familiar intensity, pushing the mercury past a-hundred-in-the-old. To escape the late afternoon heat, Robs, Oscar and I packed up a picnic and spent a lovely evening at South Beach, culminating in one of those classic Indian Ocean sunsets that West Australians are spoilt with on an all too regular basis. The three of us didn't last too long when we arrived home sun kissed, exhausted, happy. Os promptly hit the hay and was out like a light and he was followed closely by Mum and Dad.

Robs was the first up however, rising at 4am with the 'usual pregnancy type cramps and pains' that accompany one who is 24 weeks pregnant. She popped out of the room in what seemed to me to be moderate discomfort (she’s one tough cookie), however when she re-entered a few minutes later it was clear that not all was OK.

'We've got to get to the hospital right now', she succinctly enunciated, equal parts terror and urgency in her voice.

Sh-t. The next few moments were a mad scramble: clothes on, wake up sleeping child, find keys and phone and wallet, unlock car, lock house, go back for child's blanket, lock house, and then out the driveway. Bibra Lake to Fremantle is normally a 15 minute trip; I think we screeched to a halt in the Emergency entry in half that time.

Robs was whisked through to ED, whilst I went through identification formalities with the registrar. Once complete, Os was left with the nurses and I was ushered through to a scene straight out of one of those network television shows which uses a public hospital for its setting – 10 or so people in a what looked like organised chaos to the untrained eye, but in reality was a cohesive team in the midst of an amazing job.

A couple of things were made clear to me by the ED registrar: Firstly, we were lucky to arrive when we did. Secondly, although they’d dosed my wife with drugs designed to suppress labour, there was a chance that baby might be born right now. Thirdly, if baby did come along, the chances of survival were not good. As you can imagine, it was a little emotional in the room.

Thankfully, the meds did their job and Robs’ contractions came under control. At that point, somewhere near 6am, the decision was made to transfer Robs to King Edward, one of the premier maternity hospitals in the country. The on-call obstetrician and midwife from Kaleeya Private were kind enough to travel in the ambulance up Stirling Highway, lest baby decide that outside would indeed be preferable to inside during the trip. A paediatric mobility vehicle followed along too, so all the required equipment needed to deliver and maintain a 24 week bub were close at hand. And through all this we were fortunate that one of our very good friends was able to answer the early morning SOS to pick Oscar up just as the ambo pulled out of Freo. Eva, you’re a legend!

Robs was taken straight through to the birthing suites at King Eddy, and once she was hooked to an epidural, IV lines, and monitoring equipment we were again explained the updated situation: It was good that we’d made it in time (again); Babies born at 24 weeks in Perth have a 50% survival rate; If we could hold on for 48 hours, we’d get a full course of steroids into baby which would enable her tiny lungs to better cope with the stress of the outside world, thus lifting her chance of survival to 75%; An extra 2 days in-utero would also be 2 days of vital nourishment that can’t be replicated out of the body.

Basically the message to Robs was lay still and think positive thoughts. More on that in Part 2 tomorrow.

The last couple of days Lucy's been basking in ultraviolet light. Post-delivery she became jaundiced due to plenty of kicking about whilst waiting to enter the world. The phototherapy aims to fix this up.

Happy Australia Day!

Well, we've just doubled the post count, which means we're trending in the right direction. Robs was discharged today - a welcome relief. After 80 hours of labour and the obligatory 48 hours post delivery, she came home and chopped up wood this afternoon - I guess our humble double bed beats the maternity ward specials. Post-snooze we were able to go down to Freo and watch the fireworks with a cold beer in hand, all the while thinking of our little angel chilling out in her humidicrib. Snug, as a bug, in a rug.

I think tomorrow we'll delve into the labour/birth narrative, so until then, peace and love to all.

L

G'day, my name's Leon, and this is my blog. I'm a 30 year old guy who lives in Perth, Australia, with my wife, Robyn, and our almost-two-year-old son, Oscar. We're all what I consider to be pretty normal - we live in the suburbs, have normal jobs, do normal family things and enjoy the company of family and friends (normally).

Then last Saturday, things got flipped around a bit. Robsey went into labour, ultimately giving birth to our second child on Tuesday, 24/1/12. Normally, this wouldn't be terribly remarkable, I mean, normal families from the 'burbs have kids all the time. The kicker was that Robs was only 24 weeks pregnant when labour commenced. Consequently, our little one popped out weighing 680 grams and is looking at a 4 month stay in the Neonatal ICU at King Edward Memorial Hospital before she can come home and meet her big brother, sleep in her own room, have a shower with Daddy and do all those other normal things. So now, I suppose, the situation we find ourselves in would not be considered so normal.

Now I'm not a great fan of repeating the same story over and over to people when I'm connected to a story that aforementioned people like to ask about. At the same time, I understand the inquisitive nature of people that compels them to ask the how/what/why questions about events considered to be newsworthy. To that end, I thought it best that I publish the answers to all those questions in one place. Sanity preservation would be a nice side effect for yours truly, too.

My intention is to update the blog with reasonable regularity. Time will tell whether good intentions result in this simple goal being realised, but for the time being, be prepared to catch up on what it's like to be the father of little Lucy Renae Wilson.

Check out time for me now. Time to lay on the couch and absorb a bunch of relatively meaningless information relating to American sports courtesy of the talking heads on ESPN.

L