Wednesday 30 January 2013

Fortnight

"More photos of baby Peter on your blog!" the emails cry, as if no one has noticed the last four years that I've spent chronicling U.S. society with a searing and witty eye in sparse and precise yet poetic and elegant prose reminiscent of Hemingway and Joyce in their prime.  Fine, whatever.

It's been a big week for the little boy.  Peter now weighs in at a hefty 3lbs 14oz (1760gms) and is on 24ml of fortified breast milk per feed.  My education continues: breast milk contains roughly 20 calories per ounce, so they boost it to 24 cals to fatten premature babies up.  The majority goes through his feeding tube but he has been introduced to the breast and bottle, both of which he latches onto and then looks around waiting for further inspiration.  Anyone who knows of Hannah's post-dinner routine will be pleased to hear that Peter sneezes after feeding.  Joy.

Most excitingly, he's now in clothes!  His IV came our yesterday, so with two free arms he gets to start wearing some of the lovely premie things we've been sent.  Only one outfit is small enough to fit him so far but he has a whole wardrobe waiting once he reaches an obese 5lbs.  Most of his food seems to be going on growth but he did manage to break several rules of physics by eating 19 grams and pooing 20.  Yes, they weigh every nappy.  Doctors and nurses are obsessed with poo.

How am I doing?  Thanks for asking!  Well, having been replaced in the affections of my wife, and my mother, and everyone else in the world, I'm realising why so many parents choose to live vicariously through their children...


Triptych.


Hanging out with mummy.



Daddy hopes he's sticking this in the right place.


Blissed out on mother's milk. 


The NICU is reasonably quiet at the moment, which gave nurse Allison the chance to show off her craft skills.  She couldn't be bothered to cut out "2lbs 15.6oz" so rounded up.  Oh, and despite the stickers, went with the US-style date.  Ugh.


Giving the baby a proper welcome with Shauli.


At our breastfeeding class we were told that you often hit a bump when the baby gets to 10-14 days old; they have a growth spurt and start demanding feedings with alarming regularity.  Formula companies know this, the instructor said, and post you a free tin of formula to coincide.

Well, what do you know?  Exactly 14 days after the birth and look what arrived in our mailbox.  I'm no militant breast feeder - I've tried; Peter seems put off by the hairy nipples - but I do find this evil!  Unbridled consumerism that preys on the weak - it's what made this country great.


Pete in his first outfit ever, and now only sporting five tubes/wires!


And, finally, I managed to get a cute pic where he doesn't look like a bright red old man.  Almost a regular baby!

Thank you to everyone for your ongoing support, love, messages, and especially food.  I can't begin to describe how much of a difference it makes to us during this craziness - you are all wonderful.

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And if you want to see a moving baby:





It's going to be fun sharing a room with two snorers for a few months.