I am writing this entry with one hand since I am holding Hannes on my arms. Anyway, it seems to me that he already knows his name. However, he seems to have another interpretation of it, since instead of just being Hannes, he acts more like "Your Highness."
We carry him around, we push his nice wagon, we feed him whenever he wants to be fed, we give all our money to him and we sing songs to him so he will sleep better. We protect him, and we entertain him. His wish is our command, his command our wish.
In other words, the Little Prince has taken over. Our Hannes is Your Highness.
OK, so, here we are. Hannes and Jessica have finally come home, and we're taking our first, um, baby steps in parenthood. The human mind (or heart? or both?) is really a strangely powerful thing. What is it that made me instantly fall in love with that little creature? Why was I so devastated when he had to lie under an ultraviolet light for 14 hours (to get rid of bilirubin)? He was perfectly happy there: it was nice and warm and he got food the second he wanted it. What more could a 4-day-old guy want?
I would like to think he'd want to lie in the arms of a certain 34-year-old guy.
And when I close my eyes (or just kinda daydream with my eyes opened, as I do all the time now, since I haven't slept for days), I can see Hannes's face in front of me. And usually his look kinda matches the look I think I have on my face. Example: when I yawn, I see him yawn. When I do benchpress, I see him looking the way he does 0.05 seconds before he'll sneeze. You know, when his eyes are just one line across his face.
As you can see, we're still in that cloud number nine. And loving it.
But, really, enough about me. You guys, let me tell you, you guys!
All the comments and well-wishings on this blog have really made my heart melt. Not that it has ever been truly frozen, but it is really humbling to see people, strangers, wishing our little family so much happiness. We want to thank you all for caring enough to come back and read about our way of getting ready for parenthood.
Not to mention all the people we do know, and all the messages we have got from our friends and family. Getting a baby seems to be a thing that really, genuinely, touches people and brings out the best in them. Love.
There's just not enough love in the world. But right now, love is all we feel.
I am just so overwhelmed by everything that I can't really think of anything to write. Let me catch my breath. That photo captures a lot of the feelings I have right now.
I'm gonna get some sleep. Jessica and Hannes are coming home tomorrow morning. We get to test drive the Volvo and - more importantly - the baby seat.
Hel-lo world!! There's someone I'd like you to meet.
Hannes, meet the world. World, this is Hannes:
I have now been a father for 36 hours and 20 minutes. I am still a little confused, it hasn't really hit me that this little fella is going to be a part of my life forever. It is pretty confusing to see him make gestures (oh yes!) that previously I had only seen Jessica make. The way his lips start to quiver just before he's going to cry makes my knees weak the same way Jessica's quivering lips the second before she starts to cry do.
Oh boy! We took off on Thursday morning at six. I just got home, it's 6 a.m on Friday. In that 24-hour period I have witnessed courage, love, caring, guts, hunger, sleep deprivation and happiness. A lot of happiness.
I am proud to say that Jessica and I became parents tonight. Hannes, our son, was born on 22 November at 2.58 a.m.
I am telling you for the last time, the baby is due on November 27. Actually, it has been me who has been reminding you of the due date, but what I haven't been telling you is that lately, 90 percent of the people calling us are just checking up on us so we haven't gone and had a baby without telling them.
And I so understand it. And we do like the fact that people care. So, I promise you here, that when the time comes, you will be the first to know. Check this space for updates. It's just that .. we're pretty anxious to see the baby, too.
Get this: Only 4 percent of babies are born on the "due date." Four percent? What's that? That's nothing! That's a lousy guess at best. It's not even a guess, it's not even a ballpark figure, it's .. a ballpark parking lot figure. Let's say, for argument's sake, that human pregnancy, in theory, is 40 weeks long. And let's say, in theory, that we know approximately when the woman has been impregnated. Now, how long a period would you have to choose to be able to nail down the right date with a four percent chance? 25 days? So, what? Basically, you get the right month?
Why do they even tell you a date? We would have been just as happy with "late November." This date system just puts too much pressure on one day. And the baby. So, forget "one day ovedue" babies, there is no such thing.
Besides, Hilda's not due until next Wednesday at 3.30 p.m.
Oh baby (!), the mothership has landed! It's blue, it's got four wheels and - get a load of this! - a rain cover. It is from the main deck of USS Emmaljunga that Hilda will be giving her commands to her trusted and loyal servants, Risto and Jessica.
See, we bought her stroller today.
Or actually: Jessica's Dad was in town today and the grandfather-to-be did what he said he would, and bought his granddaughter (although he thinks it'll be a grandson) a stroller. That's what Grandfathers do. Thanks, it's so cool.
Now, all I have to do is figure out how to fold it. How hard can it be?
How can I be so clueless about the most natural thing in the world? No, I am not talking about sex (not now). I mean babies. How can I NOT know how to hold a baby? Shouldn't there be some kind of instinct that tells me that I should wipe baby's eyes with a cotton thing but not a Q-tip? How come I haven't already sprayed teflon on the left shoulder of all my shirts?
All this (and so much more) I had to learn at a training class? Maybe I could practice it at home now with, say, a bag of flour. That weighs about the same as a baby, doesn't it?
But, the good thing (I think) was the male bonding that took place in that same classroom. I could see how all the guys secretly looked at how the other guys were holding the baby dolls. And how their girlfriends showed them how to really do it.
"The baby's doing fine." Or, as she really puts it: "Babyn mår bra." That's what Maarit, the midwife who has done all the checkups at the hospital always says. For which we are grateful, naturally. Jessi had her latest (last?) checkup today, and things are proceeding as they should.
Turns out Maarit is pregnant, too. Isn't it strange that we have been going there for 6 months now, and a) it hasn't come up once and b) we haven't noticed it at all? Well, she does wear kinda big clothes, and she is a big girl, but still...
Anyway, she's been really nice to us PLUS she speaks perfect Swedish, so I know that I'm gonna miss her when we go to the post-birth checkups.
Then again, it doesn't really matter who we see there, as long as they all have the same message: "Babyn mår bra."
We live about three blocks from the hospital Hilda will be born in. Maybe four. You could run there in about two minutes if you had to. The problem is that when you would have to run there, you most likely can't, right? Simply put, if Jessica didn't have the belly, we would most definitely just walk over to the hospital, and we'd get there faster than if we'd first walk to our car, drive to the hospital and then walk from the parking lot. However, if Jessica didn't have the big belly, we wouldn't have a reason to go to the hospital.
I figure we'll take our Volvo to the hospital when the time comes.
We made a little study trip to the hospital yesterday. (We walked -- took us ten minutes). There were about eight couples and we walked around the whole maternity department, from reception to the delivery rooms. And yes, we even saw a baby on the way.
I was pleasantly surprised by the coziness of the delivery room. I am not a huge decorator myself, but even I noticed the curtains on the windows and the flowers. And the TV. And the water bed. And the shower. And the CD player. I understand that we're not going to go there to just hang around, so since it looked like any room in a home, a real home, that was good enough for me.
You know? They even had a rope hanging down from the ceiling -- in case I go ape.
Some parents seem to lose all control of other people's personal space when they become parents. You know the type, that guy who talks very openly about breast pumps and how their baby broke the world record in puking (distance). Still, I never thought I would be shopping for "nappy wrappers." Let alone discuss them with anybody.
Apparently, the new-born babies create a lot of poop. According to my sources, you need to change the diapers up to eight times. A day! Now, you can smell something here, right? Exactly. What are you going to do with the used diapers? Stuff them under the sink?
My investigations show that there are two schools when it comes to dealing with this:
1) The so called "bucket school". People with a "feet on the ground and a no-nonsense" attitude prefer the bucket. Change the diaper, throw it in the bucket (25 liters is fine) and empty bucket daily. Easy. Simple. Cost of bucket: 9 euros. Not recommended for famlies with dogs.
2) The Sangenic school. "It may come as a surprise to learn that your baby will need around 5,000 nappy changes between birth and potty training. The Nappy Wrapper from Sangenic is a unique patented disposal system for nappies. Both the lid of the tub and the film are anti-bacterial. So there's no germs, no mess and best of all, no awful smells in the house. With just a simple twist of the cassette the nappy disappears into the bin, to be wrapped, sealed and hidden away hygienically in sweet-smelling film until the bin is full," they say on the Web site. This is something for the families that are expecting their first child. People in the city. The sensitive kind. Cost: 47 euros for the standard, 70 for the Maxi. Hint: invite the grandparents over for the weekend. Have them sleep close to the bucket.
I never thought this would be on my "to-do" list. Gotta love it.
Greetings from the Zombieland! Actually, we're not really anything like the living dead, but we are pret-ty tired, us two. Jessica can't really find a good position to sleep in, or Hilda keeps her awake with her kicking. We're up to 5 pillows now, 4 for Jessica and one for me and I think I have to give up mine tonight so that we can get Jessi's legs up a little bit.
I am just tired from work and getting up early.
The other day Jessica got up in the middle of the night and watched movies on TCM while I slept. Damn! I was actually jealous. I wanted to watch movies in the middle of the night, too. Only, she probably would have done what I was doing instead. Anyway, our household is on slo-mo these days. We only do whatever is absolutely necessary. Slowly, but surely.
In Finland, we get 18 days of paternal leave when the baby is born. That translates into three working weeks, since we count Saturdays into the working days - even though I never work on Saturdays. Maybe I missed the memo about the Saturdays?
Anyway, three weeks is good, I guess. I have no idea if the three weeks will seem too much or too little. Will I ever wanna go back to work or will I run to the office on the 19th day after Hilda's born? Hard to say, really. Right now, I am looking forward to being at home with my little family without any "have-to's". I won't have to go to work, or to the gym. I won't have to check my e-mail, or call anyone. I can do all those things if I want to. But it's up to me. Or, well, I guess I'll check with Jessi and Hilda first.
I was going to have to give a presentation about a work thingie on the 20th. In Sweden. And quite frankly, I don't wanna. I would much rather be here for nothing than in Sweden when I should be in Helsinki. (And for the odd surfers who got to this blog by googling "how+much+does+baby+cost?": Helsinki is in Finland, not in Sweden.) I said this to my colleague at work last week, and she had taken it forward to our client who had not taken it very well. She (!) pretty much insisted on me traveling to Sweden for the presentation.
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That's where I draw the line. But could somebody please explain to me how some corporate presentation can be considered more important than being present when my little baby is being born?
I drove up to Joensuu (map here) real quick this weekend. As always, I got some old stuff to take with me. This time it was a very 1970s leather/fur coat that my Dad used to wear when I was a kid. There are several photos of us where he's wearing that coat and I am wearing some other 70s clothes that my Mom made for me.
My Dad has tried to give it to me all through the 1980s and 90s, and each time we have laughed SO HARD at the coat. So hard. S-o hard.
Last night, it looked good to me. I'm telling ya, the coat is very hip again.
I wonder if Hilda will be wearing Jessica's red leather jacket in 2025. Or, maybe Hilda will just take my jeans jacket. And give it to her boyfriend. That punk!
Maybe in 2025 we will finally all wear those cool Star Trek suits?
