Birth and my life in football matches

My son is turning five so I started thinking about the day he was born. What do I remember?

That my husband was wearing a banana t-shirt (imagine that being the first thing you saw on exiting from the gift shop??)

I remember that on the morning after his birth I was late transferring back to Stroud Maternity because I wanted to watch the FA Cup final (Portsmouth 1-0 Cardiff).

I remember that I finally left the 'Stroud Hotel' because United were playing Chelsea in the European Cup Final and I wanted to watch it at home.

I also remember my milk coming in during the first half (feel free to look away now). I felt a mixture of pain and panic, trying to force a tiny baby to drink to relieve the pain, but with breasts rapidly expanding like Violet, the one ton blueberry from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Ever had the feeling you're about to explode??
 

I didn't think I'd live to see the second half, so sent the husband out to scour the supermarkets for a hand pump.

He returned and United won on penalties.
I was elated and the boobs thankfully, deflated.

There you go, my birth memories. All based around football (and I don't even follow it anymore).

Don't judge a book by its cover - obem

Never is this more true than when watching Channel 4’s brilliant fly-on-the-wall documentary, One Born Every Minute #obem

You see the couples at the start and despite yourself you judge them and slap on a label. Closely followed by a prediction of how the birth will go and how they'll treat that child for the next 18 years. Not out loud of course, but I’m pretty sure it flashes through most people’s heads.

Then begins the slow reveal, over the course of the next hour, you slowly begin to change your mind. That’s the best thing about OBEM, things are never quite what they seem.

Take tonight’s episode (4 January 2012). Meet Kurt. Baseball cap wearing, gangsta strutting, iPhone touting youth. With a Yorkshire accent to boot (best thing about him). He doesn’t look particularly interested in his girlfriend or his unborn child, thank God she’s got her mum with her.

Until the labour starts. Turns out he’s got a wise head on those Stone Island branded shoulders. An earlier abortion is his biggest regret, but it has, he says, taught him about life.  Regular phone calls to update his Mum and Dad reveal a vulnerable side and someone who’s obviously part of a close and loving family. 

Many men you see on OBEM are silent spare parts when it comes to the crucial pushing stage, preferring to crack jokes or hang around the ‘fanoir’ with a digital camera. Not Kurt. He turns into personal trainer extraordinaire, counting, breathing, reassuring.

But things go wrong for this young couple and as he’s sent outside in favour of having Mum as the birth partner, he’s left to ponder the fate of his unborn son alone in the smoking shelter. He’s angry, abusive and thumps walls, causing twitter to go into judgemental overdrive. But even through the anger, he still has time to say ‘alright luv’ with a smile to one of the staff.

So he might be a chav, a scally, a no hope youth bringing up more youths with no hope, or whatever epithet or judgement you want to slap on this poor kid. But he’s a caring, loving, passionate Dad who couldn’t be at his son’s birth and for a minute there, looked as though he might not get to see his son alive.

All’s well that ends well. The baby gasped for air (eventually) and the midwives had a cup of tea. Another brilliant episode, reminding me you can never judge a book by its cover.

I'm off to douche my willy welcomer.

http://lifebegins.channel4.com/

The Name Game

For me, the most stressful part of having children, was naming them. Yep, it caused me more worry than pregnancy, birth, lack of sleep and empty bank accounts.

Everything else is short-lived, the pain of birth, the sleep-free first weeks. But a name lasts forever. And for a child born these days, it’s likely to be with them for 100 years (and thus feature in a telegram from the Queen, unless of course we’re a republic by then)

I envy anyone who has the confidence and self-assurance to just pick a name, stick with it and not worry about what it means and what ‘people will think’. (I think this state of mind is reserved solely for celebrities.)

When you’re naming a child, there’s a lot to consider. You can’t just give them the name you want, because this isn’t about you, it’s about shaping somebody else’s life. Or am I the only fool who feels the weight of this responsibility so heavily that it kept me awake at night?

So this is what you do. You find a name, picture your child with it, then hit it with the checklist. The ultimate naming test:
• First search the name on the Office for National Statistics’ database – they even do regional breakdowns, so a common name in the north, might be rare and unusual in the south.
• Apply the celeb test. Have any celebs got this name and do I like them? Have they used it for their kids, and, how do I feel about that?
• Next you think about all the people you’ve met with that name, are they fat/thin, weak/strong, happy/sad, funny/serious, successful/disastrous. I know everyone does this test.
• Is it easy for a child to spell? (three letters, should be a doddle) and can other people spell it (already having a problem with Huw here in the Shire)
• Can people pronounce it?
• Does it go with their surname? (who thought Neville Neville was a good idea??)
• Is it easy to make fun of? Will their initials spell anything rude or mean something else? (CIA, DIC…..)

I also found some great advice online…..which I was kind of following anyway, that you should apply the three golden rules of brand-naming to children’s names:
1. don’t tell people what you are thinking of calling your baby.
2. Choose a name for your target audience as opposed to yourself.
3. Wait till you meet the baby before you choose the name. In the corporate world it would be like naming a company before you know what personality you want to give it.

So I did all of this and thought I’d stick with my original favourite ‘Huw’ – love the name, strong, short, welsh. But even then, the system wasn’t fool proof.

Huw isn’t that easy to spell for a boy growing up in England and I’ve since found out, really hard for other kids to pronounce (Cue, Phew, You, Who). It can also cause major confusion in conversation…. ‘That’s Huw… who me? No Huw…who me?’ (Just ask my cousin Maree)

Anyway, I’ve got two kids, they’ve both got names *relief* but I’m STILL worrying. People call Huw ‘Phew’ and Eve ‘Evie’. Neither of them appears on the list of the names most likely to get into Oxbridge. Oh and every successful female in Hollywood I read about now seems to be called Jennifer – Aniston, Alba, Garner, Lopez. So cross famous actor out too. Damn.

So if you are pregnant and still can’t decide on your name….you might just want to read this article....
HAPPY NAMING!

picture shows print of Eve's name, bought at one fine day