I've been talking a lot recently about the role of the father and the challenges we face with various people. Henry is now at a point where, on occasion, only mummy will do. He can become rapidly inconsolable by anything apart from a cuddle with Emily. This can be particularly difficult for the hands-on dad, like I am trying to be. When you want to be a part of the parenting and do your very best to meet your child's needs it can be quite an emotional challenge to recognise those times when you're not enough. And clearly Henry isn't doing this to hurt, the mother baby bond is vital and well-documented. And a generation or so ago this wouldn't have been an issue, there was less expectation, I think, on dads to be active parents. The hands-on dad was the exception, not the norm.
However, times have changed and people do expect more of dads - although I think I pressure myself more than society expects of me. This is what leads to the difficulty. I want to be able to do it, but sometimes I am just not what he wants. I can imagine at this stage it is tricky for dads to maintain the involvement, it can be difficult to continue when you feel you're having to hand over to mummy each time. I am fortunate that I've got a chunk of time off work now and can be about a lot more and strengthen the relationship. For dads that don't have that opportunity it must be very tough and I would question what support, or consideration, they get. My mum talked about my dad, who was an exception but also was in the navy so had to be away for long periods, and how she hadn't considered what it would have been like coming back from months away to a child that wanted mummy. I cannot imagine how difficult that would have been - I am sure all he wanted was hugs and smiles and to not put me down, yet I imagine I had other ideas when young.
The importance of the relationship both parents have with a child is important, and I think preparing dads for these trials would be beneficial.
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Thursday, 26 July 2012
Tantrum?
In the past I have considered when does a child become a child - i.e. when do they move from simply a mass of cells into something with a consciousness? I did not provide an answer, I am not sure there is one to be honest.
However, is there one for when a behavioural reaction becomes a tantrum?! Friends of ours have ascribed their four week old screaming and kicking to a tantrum. Emily and I do not think that's right. One of the things that we have learnt since having Henry is that:
1) You change your mind about everything you thought you would hold dear.
2) Everybody, and I do mean everybody, has an opinion. Be they friends, neighbours, passers-by, everybody think they know how it should be done.
3) When you watch other people you think "ooo...I wouldn't have done that..." In this, though see point 2 above!
But when does a tantrum become one? We had a long chat about what the difference between a tantrum and a baby screaming was...we found it difficult to draw the line. The issue is that they are both behavioural expressions of when something is wrong. What we think the crux of the matter is, is the ability to access other strategies, such as talking about it, that are not available to a baby. But it is far from decided in our household.
However, is there one for when a behavioural reaction becomes a tantrum?! Friends of ours have ascribed their four week old screaming and kicking to a tantrum. Emily and I do not think that's right. One of the things that we have learnt since having Henry is that:
1) You change your mind about everything you thought you would hold dear.
2) Everybody, and I do mean everybody, has an opinion. Be they friends, neighbours, passers-by, everybody think they know how it should be done.
3) When you watch other people you think "ooo...I wouldn't have done that..." In this, though see point 2 above!
But when does a tantrum become one? We had a long chat about what the difference between a tantrum and a baby screaming was...we found it difficult to draw the line. The issue is that they are both behavioural expressions of when something is wrong. What we think the crux of the matter is, is the ability to access other strategies, such as talking about it, that are not available to a baby. But it is far from decided in our household.
Monday, 16 July 2012
Oh, they grow up so fast!
Henry is at an amazing stage. He smiles, beginning to have good head control, and, amazingly, babbles away in full conversations with us. We get to kiss him all over and have bath times with him. If he gets crabby he goes up onto a shoulder (although this has resulted in a number of top changes) and gets taken for a walk - around the garden is a sure fire calmer for all but the most serious of ailments.
I was standing in the shower this morning thinking about all of this and worrying, again, about him growing up and only getting to experience those moments in my memories.
It actually offered me some insight into why people, even in these modern times, have large families. These days are so precious with Henry, dependent on us and attachments emerging. I am tremendously excited about all that is to come, but these few months where a silly noise is enough to get a smile (and I will do ANYTHING for one of his smiles), a kiss is enough to get a giggle, he looks for you as you leave and is fascinated by his own hands, are so short. When he is a bit older, moving around and talking I know I will miss these days. I'm fairly sure I will feel like this at every stage of his life. But there does seem to be something particularly precious about these first few months.
A biological imperative? Probably. Do I care if it is? Certainly not! My little boy is waiting for a silly voice and a kiss on the lips - there are more important things to be worried about!
I was standing in the shower this morning thinking about all of this and worrying, again, about him growing up and only getting to experience those moments in my memories.
It actually offered me some insight into why people, even in these modern times, have large families. These days are so precious with Henry, dependent on us and attachments emerging. I am tremendously excited about all that is to come, but these few months where a silly noise is enough to get a smile (and I will do ANYTHING for one of his smiles), a kiss is enough to get a giggle, he looks for you as you leave and is fascinated by his own hands, are so short. When he is a bit older, moving around and talking I know I will miss these days. I'm fairly sure I will feel like this at every stage of his life. But there does seem to be something particularly precious about these first few months.
A biological imperative? Probably. Do I care if it is? Certainly not! My little boy is waiting for a silly voice and a kiss on the lips - there are more important things to be worried about!
Saturday, 14 July 2012
I'm a parent too!
I've just posted my last blog and it has occurred to me that it would be useful to quickly vent my spleen.
I used to work for a Children's Centre (a hub of staff and activities for families with children under five) and we ran a Dad's Club every week. Currently, in my city, there are two monthly Dad's Clubs run. Despite increased awareness of our role we remain a very neglected part of service provider's considerations.
During Emily's pregnancy the midwives treated me as useful, or interesting but entirely surplus to requirements. They were never rude or dismissive, but nor did they attempt to really engage me. And I am confident professional; heaven knows what it would be like for somebody without my background and experience.
Now that Henry is here I continue to be left out. I work so none of the normal weekday activities are possible. Evenings, I'll grant you, would be out of the question. But a couple of hours on a Saturday to have somewhere to go and meet other dads? Apparently this is too much to ask.
And Henry recently had a minor health scare and we spent a night in hospital. They tried to get me to leave, arguing that only one parent could stay as any more presented a fire risk if the floor had to be evacuated. At the time it was obvious that this was service led, rather than patient led rules, with no basis whatsoever in fire regulations. 'Luckily' Henry was still undergoing assessment, so decisions needed to be made so I was never forced to leave, or to make a stand. But when a child is that young, to ask one of the parents to leave is cruel. We live quite close to the hospital, but it is a regional servant to a large swathe of Devon and Cornwall. What if something did happen suddenly and home was an hour's drive away? This is a terrible state of affairs and one that I thought we had moved on from.
Dads are important; services need to actually take that on board now and stop paying lip service to the idea.
I used to work for a Children's Centre (a hub of staff and activities for families with children under five) and we ran a Dad's Club every week. Currently, in my city, there are two monthly Dad's Clubs run. Despite increased awareness of our role we remain a very neglected part of service provider's considerations.
During Emily's pregnancy the midwives treated me as useful, or interesting but entirely surplus to requirements. They were never rude or dismissive, but nor did they attempt to really engage me. And I am confident professional; heaven knows what it would be like for somebody without my background and experience.
Now that Henry is here I continue to be left out. I work so none of the normal weekday activities are possible. Evenings, I'll grant you, would be out of the question. But a couple of hours on a Saturday to have somewhere to go and meet other dads? Apparently this is too much to ask.
And Henry recently had a minor health scare and we spent a night in hospital. They tried to get me to leave, arguing that only one parent could stay as any more presented a fire risk if the floor had to be evacuated. At the time it was obvious that this was service led, rather than patient led rules, with no basis whatsoever in fire regulations. 'Luckily' Henry was still undergoing assessment, so decisions needed to be made so I was never forced to leave, or to make a stand. But when a child is that young, to ask one of the parents to leave is cruel. We live quite close to the hospital, but it is a regional servant to a large swathe of Devon and Cornwall. What if something did happen suddenly and home was an hour's drive away? This is a terrible state of affairs and one that I thought we had moved on from.
Dads are important; services need to actually take that on board now and stop paying lip service to the idea.
Everything changes
Life is busy. I know I used to fill my time before Henry came along but for the life of me I cannot remember how. It is a common occurence for my wife and I to be cooking dinner around 8-9pm. Not good for our waistline, but it is shared time, and important to us both. And Henry's routine is paramount!
Thinking about how he sleeps has made me realise how much has changed in the 13.5 weeks since he arrived. I commented today how he used to scream when having his nappy changed - the worst moments for me in those first few weeks were a 2/3am nappy change. Tired, bleary-eyed with a screaming banshee of a son exercising his surprisingly powerful lungs were the moments that pushed me to near breaking point. But now, he 'enjoys' having his nappy changed - he appreciates the necessity of it and enjoys the focussed attention he gets. Henry talks to us, engages with us, smiles at us. He is taking a great deal of interest in the world around him. He is very sociable - at his happiest when he has our undivided attention or he is held on a shoulder and taken for a walk to see the world.
When I visit these pages I am reminded how useful it is to record my thoughts here - but I just do not seem to be able to find the time! I get back from work, then it is into spending time with him and Emily before and during his final feed of the day - then tip-toeing around for a bit until he invariably wakes up and he gets a final top-up and settled for the night. He has slept through a couple of times now, and is in his big bed (he looks tiny!). The goal of this blog was to capture our evolving relationship - it now feels like this is changing daily as he learns new skills and responses. He recognises me now, he settles on me when he is teasy on others, smiles when he sees me. I'll grant you none of these are 100% of the time, but they are certainly often enough that it does not feel like chance.
(Of course I may be deluding myself - biologically I am programmed to see things in Henry that make me believe a connection is growing so that I feel the need to protect my progeny and preserve the future of the species. However, that is a cold outlook and I prefer to think that it is not random facial twitches, but genuince pleasure that daddy is home!)
And it has struck me whilst having a Twitter exchange with Michael Rosen (http://michaelrosenblog.blogspot.co.uk/) that it is about time I started to read to my son. I have so far only read a few excerpts from the paper - now, though, it is time to start him on his exciting journey towards becoming a reader. One day I hope he will read these posts. If so...tidy your bedroom and get a hair cut son!
Thinking about how he sleeps has made me realise how much has changed in the 13.5 weeks since he arrived. I commented today how he used to scream when having his nappy changed - the worst moments for me in those first few weeks were a 2/3am nappy change. Tired, bleary-eyed with a screaming banshee of a son exercising his surprisingly powerful lungs were the moments that pushed me to near breaking point. But now, he 'enjoys' having his nappy changed - he appreciates the necessity of it and enjoys the focussed attention he gets. Henry talks to us, engages with us, smiles at us. He is taking a great deal of interest in the world around him. He is very sociable - at his happiest when he has our undivided attention or he is held on a shoulder and taken for a walk to see the world.
When I visit these pages I am reminded how useful it is to record my thoughts here - but I just do not seem to be able to find the time! I get back from work, then it is into spending time with him and Emily before and during his final feed of the day - then tip-toeing around for a bit until he invariably wakes up and he gets a final top-up and settled for the night. He has slept through a couple of times now, and is in his big bed (he looks tiny!). The goal of this blog was to capture our evolving relationship - it now feels like this is changing daily as he learns new skills and responses. He recognises me now, he settles on me when he is teasy on others, smiles when he sees me. I'll grant you none of these are 100% of the time, but they are certainly often enough that it does not feel like chance.
(Of course I may be deluding myself - biologically I am programmed to see things in Henry that make me believe a connection is growing so that I feel the need to protect my progeny and preserve the future of the species. However, that is a cold outlook and I prefer to think that it is not random facial twitches, but genuince pleasure that daddy is home!)
And it has struck me whilst having a Twitter exchange with Michael Rosen (http://michaelrosenblog.blogspot.co.uk/) that it is about time I started to read to my son. I have so far only read a few excerpts from the paper - now, though, it is time to start him on his exciting journey towards becoming a reader. One day I hope he will read these posts. If so...tidy your bedroom and get a hair cut son!
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Respect and hardwork
Young single parents catch a lot of flack in our media, which results in a public rejection of them. My personal opinion is that we should, as a society, criticise ourselves slightly more than the products of a systemic issue. These young people have suffered, generally, a generational lack of aspiration and becoming a parent is all they know.
However, that is not what I want to focus on. Rather I respect anybody that attempts to raise a child by themselves. I cannot imagine bringing Henry up without the support of my wife; I think she would echo the sentiment. It is such hard work. I admire my wife greatly for getting through the day independently. Getting through life independently would be inconceivable.
We have some friends who need to care for their children (plural!) by themselves frequently and frankly Emily and I are amazed by them. We have one child, we are always late and it is a mission that requires a level of planning that would impress special forces to get out of the house. How these (bionic) friends of ours manage is beyond me. My hope it is like driving. At first you cannot imagine how you can lift the clutch pedal, whilst pushing down on the throttle and simultaneously checking your mirrors. It becomes natural and sub-conscious but at first it feels clumsy, awkward and you always forget to take the handbrake off.
So rather than denigrate single parents we should recognising what hard work it is - it is probably much harder than they realised, so let us not add insult to injury through generalisations and criticisms.
However, that is not what I want to focus on. Rather I respect anybody that attempts to raise a child by themselves. I cannot imagine bringing Henry up without the support of my wife; I think she would echo the sentiment. It is such hard work. I admire my wife greatly for getting through the day independently. Getting through life independently would be inconceivable.
We have some friends who need to care for their children (plural!) by themselves frequently and frankly Emily and I are amazed by them. We have one child, we are always late and it is a mission that requires a level of planning that would impress special forces to get out of the house. How these (bionic) friends of ours manage is beyond me. My hope it is like driving. At first you cannot imagine how you can lift the clutch pedal, whilst pushing down on the throttle and simultaneously checking your mirrors. It becomes natural and sub-conscious but at first it feels clumsy, awkward and you always forget to take the handbrake off.
So rather than denigrate single parents we should recognising what hard work it is - it is probably much harder than they realised, so let us not add insult to injury through generalisations and criticisms.
Monday, 4 June 2012
Everything changes
It's been far too long since I last visited here. But that is a definite feature of parenthood - caring for Henry is so incredibly time consuming. We run half an hour late for most events, and evenings are written off as we try to establish a routine that Henry is resisting with every ounce of his being.
It is difficult to even think what to write - the last (nearly) eight weeks have been tumultuous. Henry is growing at a rate I did not believe possible. I was looking at him lying in his carrycot yesterday thinking "you know...he's not going to be in that in two months time. I'm not even sure he'll be in it in a month's time". You can almost see him grow. He has gone from a gangly (midwife's actual description) tiny scrap of baby to a bit of a chunk! We have not had him weighed for a while, but his cheeks and arms have a reassuring thickness to them now.
And joy of joys - he is smiling! It is simply the most beautiful, life-affirming sight and I find myself prepared to do anything to get him to smile. So far, I think, it is largely pot-luck - Henry smiles at what amuses him, which is occasionally mummy and daddy, but can also be a picture on a wall, wind, baby dreams... Current favourites are incy-wincy spider and this little piggy. The smiles happen most in the morning, which is a bit tough because five of seven I am in work.
I have settled into a routine of being his evening bather. I would not say that he enjoys having a bath, but for the most part he gets to stare at the window (he is attracted to light) or me and allows me to pretend this is a wonderful bonding time for the pair of us. He will soon let me know when he has had enough and wants out. To be honest getting him out is the best part because he then gets double-wrapped in towels and snuggled up and then we do get some quality bonding time. Unless he cries. Or fills the towels with poo. Which has happened. Back into the bath with you sunshine...
One thing I will note here is how principled we were before becoming parents in what we thought was appropriate, and those things we would never do. Try very hard never to set those principles in stone. Henry has had a pacifier (one of the few Americanisms I think is actually worthwhile). That is the big one for us. We swore that we would never use one, but when he has been crying for an hour, is not hungry, does not need changing and cannot get to sleep because he is so upset you resort to what will help him, and abandon your high ideals. Do not beat yourself up about it; be aware of the sacrifice you are making and why you are doing it and ensure you do not forget that principle, but the uppermost principle is your baby's well-being. Everything else is secondary.
On that note, I will share very briefly my checklist to run through when a baby is crying. Conveniently they all start with a B - I try to use this as an aide memoire, trust me we have needed reminding of some of these things from time to time.
Breast or bottle - am I hungry? (or thirsty - we just had a very hot spell and Henry upped his intake, but, as always, Emily's breasts responded miraculously and produced more fore-milk, which is the lighter watery milk)
Bed - am I tired? (a difficult one - Henry fights going to sleep in the evening. A lot. For ages.)
Burp - have I got wind? (Henry likes on the shoulder, or bent over my hand. But we have learned, repeatedly and to our cost, that if you feed him too much or wind too aggressively after a feed, it all fountains out in a glorious geyser of milk. This normally results in having to strip and redress the bed at 3am whilst drying the mattress with a towel. Oh and you can never have too many muslin squares.)
Bottom - do I need changing? (somehow, this is the one we commonly forget, and we always assume that if he is not settling it is because he is hungry or 'over-tired' (which I personally think is a ridiculous concept). Suddenly, it will occur to us that he may be comfortable. A quick change = relaxed Henry. This has changed in the last three weeks - at first he didn't realise or care what was in his nappy. Now he does)
Bored - do I need entertaining? (I think this one is becoming more important for Henry, he is considerably more interactive in the last couple of weeks, so the need to stimulate is becoming more salient).
What is most difficult to capture here is, well, everything. The emotions, which are no doubt heightened by exhaustion despite him being reasonably forgiving at night, the changes, the learning, the bonding. All of it happening and evolving on a minute-by-minute basis. I started this blog hoping to record my thoughts and experiences as I went on my personal journey of fatherhood, but I now realise that fatherhood is actually just an extension of Henry and I cannot keep up with him! It is so exciting, so rewarding, so incredibly hard but wow. Just look at what you get. This makes every struggle worthwhile, and somehow it does just enough to make you forget the screaming and the bad dreams and the tiredness. That little boy smiling is my panacea and I love him.
It is difficult to even think what to write - the last (nearly) eight weeks have been tumultuous. Henry is growing at a rate I did not believe possible. I was looking at him lying in his carrycot yesterday thinking "you know...he's not going to be in that in two months time. I'm not even sure he'll be in it in a month's time". You can almost see him grow. He has gone from a gangly (midwife's actual description) tiny scrap of baby to a bit of a chunk! We have not had him weighed for a while, but his cheeks and arms have a reassuring thickness to them now.
And joy of joys - he is smiling! It is simply the most beautiful, life-affirming sight and I find myself prepared to do anything to get him to smile. So far, I think, it is largely pot-luck - Henry smiles at what amuses him, which is occasionally mummy and daddy, but can also be a picture on a wall, wind, baby dreams... Current favourites are incy-wincy spider and this little piggy. The smiles happen most in the morning, which is a bit tough because five of seven I am in work.
One thing I will note here is how principled we were before becoming parents in what we thought was appropriate, and those things we would never do. Try very hard never to set those principles in stone. Henry has had a pacifier (one of the few Americanisms I think is actually worthwhile). That is the big one for us. We swore that we would never use one, but when he has been crying for an hour, is not hungry, does not need changing and cannot get to sleep because he is so upset you resort to what will help him, and abandon your high ideals. Do not beat yourself up about it; be aware of the sacrifice you are making and why you are doing it and ensure you do not forget that principle, but the uppermost principle is your baby's well-being. Everything else is secondary.
On that note, I will share very briefly my checklist to run through when a baby is crying. Conveniently they all start with a B - I try to use this as an aide memoire, trust me we have needed reminding of some of these things from time to time.
Breast or bottle - am I hungry? (or thirsty - we just had a very hot spell and Henry upped his intake, but, as always, Emily's breasts responded miraculously and produced more fore-milk, which is the lighter watery milk)
Bed - am I tired? (a difficult one - Henry fights going to sleep in the evening. A lot. For ages.)
Burp - have I got wind? (Henry likes on the shoulder, or bent over my hand. But we have learned, repeatedly and to our cost, that if you feed him too much or wind too aggressively after a feed, it all fountains out in a glorious geyser of milk. This normally results in having to strip and redress the bed at 3am whilst drying the mattress with a towel. Oh and you can never have too many muslin squares.)
Bottom - do I need changing? (somehow, this is the one we commonly forget, and we always assume that if he is not settling it is because he is hungry or 'over-tired' (which I personally think is a ridiculous concept). Suddenly, it will occur to us that he may be comfortable. A quick change = relaxed Henry. This has changed in the last three weeks - at first he didn't realise or care what was in his nappy. Now he does)
Bored - do I need entertaining? (I think this one is becoming more important for Henry, he is considerably more interactive in the last couple of weeks, so the need to stimulate is becoming more salient).
What is most difficult to capture here is, well, everything. The emotions, which are no doubt heightened by exhaustion despite him being reasonably forgiving at night, the changes, the learning, the bonding. All of it happening and evolving on a minute-by-minute basis. I started this blog hoping to record my thoughts and experiences as I went on my personal journey of fatherhood, but I now realise that fatherhood is actually just an extension of Henry and I cannot keep up with him! It is so exciting, so rewarding, so incredibly hard but wow. Just look at what you get. This makes every struggle worthwhile, and somehow it does just enough to make you forget the screaming and the bad dreams and the tiredness. That little boy smiling is my panacea and I love him.
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