New Years Eve

11:00

Oil-filled electric heater. Pint of semi-skimmed. Fruit salad. Box of cereal. Check. This relatively straight-forward list of essentials is solely to blame for my late arrival at the hospital. All edible, apart from the heater of course, which is needed to remove the constant chill usually present in our humble abode, and make the whole experience more palatable for a newborn arriving at his new home.

But, it appears this won’t be happening just yet. I arrive at the hospital expecting to make a swift turnaround with an extra pair of arms and legs. These hopes are dashed as it is evident he is still very sleepy, and therefore not feeding well at all. He doesn’t have the energy to suck due to his ordeal, and he is therefore receiving the ‘colostrum’ via a syringe.

I also feel terribly guilty for having enjoyed a solid eight hours sleep last night. This is clearly not the case for the wife, who having exerted as much energy as needed to run a marathon the day before, preceded by numerous uncomfortable nights, barely managed even ten of the usual forty winks. A shared ward is not conducive to a restful environment with continual comings and goings, and it appears Solomon is quite the saint compared to his noisy neighbours.

I am therefore amazed at her patience and determination as she places him time and again in feeding position, with no sign of flow. It appears he’d rather sleep than eat.

I’m so grateful to have her. As the bay curtains lend themselves to inadvertent eaves-dropping, I am constantly reminded of how unpleasant this situation could be. What if we hadn’t worked hard at our relationship over several years? What if we were here by accident rather than choice? What if we didn’t share the same values?

Nana and Grandpa come to visit, as well as an Aunty and respective other, and the mood is momentarily lifted. Their departure signals a return to the lethargy induced by hospital lighting, food and air quality.

Later that evening, the New Year threshold is straddled and disappears into the distance without much a-do. He can’t come home yet.