Category: Fourth Trimester

First night without us

Posted on by Kilian Ateh

– 8:23 am

Early evening yesterday, after Rozalia left for her dinner at Silo, Lucy picked you up and went, “Is it me or is his skin slightly yellow?” I noticed her push down your nose like a button on a telephone. A series of events quickly followed.

Her suspicion was neonatal jaundice. She swiftly left to catch Dr Swee Fang (the paediatrician who had seen you earlier) before she could clock out. Moments later she came back to explain what jaundice was in case we worried. How thoughtful. (This is so coincidentally funny. She literally just knocked and poked her head through the door as I was typing this about her. We just exchanged a few words.) Your mother’s in the bathroom so she’ll be back later.

So yes, when she came to reassure us, I’d already googled “baby jaundice”.

Infant jaundice is yellow discoloration of a newborn baby’s skin and eyes. Infant jaundice occurs because the baby’s blood contains an excess of bilirubin (bil-ih-ROO-bin), a yellow pigment of red blood cells.

Infant jaundice is a common condition, particularly in babies born before 38 weeks’ gestation (preterm babies) and some breast-fed babies. Infant jaundice usually occurs because a baby’s liver isn’t mature enough to get rid of bilirubin in the bloodstream. In some babies, an underlying disease may cause infant jaundice.

It’s harmless as long as you don’t have any underlying issues. Phototherapy is a viable treatment. Lucy again returned with what I think was a handheld jaundice detector. It emitted a beam of light every time she pushed it into your chest. She took a reading and said it was a bit high.

Dr Fang dropped in as well. She ordered a number of tests to eliminate the presence of an infection. “I’ll be in touch this evening”, she said as we exchanged numbers. A nurse (not a midwife) came round and took you away, for bloodwork I imagine. (You still have the plaster on your left hand.) They most likely put you under a light of sorts as you returned quite warm. I stopped your mother from interfering unnecessarily going with you. There was no need for us to see you being poked and crying be there. So I made us stay behind.

Dr Swee – love that name – called the room that evening saying you were all clear. No jaundice, no infection. It was certainly a relief but your mother and I were honestly never worried.

Carine (midwife not a nurse) had stopped by that morning to say hello. We said we had you booked for the nursery that night. She said she hadn’t seen our names on the list and dashed to check you into one of the two remaining slots. Unsurprisingly, Elaine never got round to it. Item number 71 was just one too many. Contrary to everyone else we’d met, she came across as way too busy.

I ordered an unnecessary amount of food. Fully giving into my inner gluttony. The meals here are better than in plenty of restaurants. We had dinner and went to bed. The macaroons Rozalia brought from Pierre Hermé were right on the money for mouth-watering. One leads to the other and so inevitably, we ate too many.

Louise brought you back this morning. Besides your mother, it seems you and I didn’t sleep so well. As usual, I struggled with the temperature of the room and the new bed. Story of my life. I can’t sleep away from the house. You apparently cried a lot. So much so that they had to put you in an over-priced self-swinging baby cot to settle you.

In her words, you took a “humungous poo”. “That’s a good thing”, she said. The meconium is out of your system completely and you are digesting food well. She did ask if you had a tongue-tie and trouble feeding. So clearly that is an issue that needs addressing. The tie has to be snipped. Lucy’s going to confirm availability but it won’t be today. It doesn’t have to be done here either. If we can’t pull it off before we leave, we’ll ask Marc and Jess where they did it for their kid(s) locally.

One thing that has been consistent so far is how “cute” you are. You’ve been getting it from all angles son. To me, you look a bit Asian. But you’re also changing every hour. Mexican tomorrow?

You look Asian Mother and child Lee says hello

PS – I was in the bathroom when they carried out a hearing test. You can hear all frequencies. All good. Also, I sent your full name to your grandfather who said to make sure it said Wanchambi on your birth certificate, without the “Ta” so that’s what we’re going to do. I’ll still call you Tawa though.

24

Posted on by Kilian Ateh

– 12:43 am

I remember Wez saying, “honestly, those first couple days, you don’t know whether you’re coming or going”. All I’ll say is, now I understand what he meant.

Name anklet Leaving Portland hospital

It’s been a day since we brought you home. Our inexperience hasn’t killed you yet somehow. You’re currently snuggled on my chest because you refuse to be put down alone. The volume goes up instantly the moment I try to displace you, literally on demand. If this were a product on Amazon, we’d be rich and have the best reviews. You’d get comments like “screams instantly“, “Best screamer ever. I love it“, and “Where have you been my whole life!?” And you do it all without any tears. So you’re faking (and it’s working). Good for you. You’ve hacked the code.

The moment you came out, you had your fingers in your mouth. I think this is how you’ve been self-soothing pre-birth. I do worry though that this will give you dentition issues down the line. So I want to kill the habit. In fact, one of the nurses midwives at Portland walked in with your entire hand in your mouth. (I’m exaggerating, but still). A black lady. She pulled it out going, “I’m still paying for the dental bills for my young one. Whatever you need to do to stop this, do it”.

In Africa, we stop it by rubbing a scotch bonnet on your fingers. There is no attention to whether the child rubs it on their body, face or eyes. The shit we’ve been through! And given the scars on your face, you’d have chilli all over it. Instead, we’ll use a pacifier. It apparently makes it a bit more difficult for you to learn to breastfeed so I am a little conflicted. But the benefits are clear and worthwhile. Besides, I’m sure we can find workarounds wrt “nipple sucking”. Liza’s filed your nails by the way.

You had bad hiccups the first night at home. It unsettled every nerve in your mother. She was visibly worried even after I showed her evidence that it was no cause for alarm and there was little that could be done about it. She sat with you through every one of them, keeping you upright the entire time. Emotionally speaking, I understand her anxiety. Thankfully, you were very calm about the hiccups. Almost like “it is what it is”. You didn’t cry or fuss. That was very nice of you. I think your mother would’ve made us go back to Portland. I am near certain of it.

A nurse showed up earlier today. Cath her name was, from Kingston Hospital. Turned up unannounced. Portland said to expect her on Tuesday. She was keen I guess. Maybe she read some of your Amazon reviews and couldn’t wait any longer. But it all seemed carefully planned to me. The whole thing about “wires crossed” and a “mix-up with the schedules” was definitely part of the charade. There was nothing impulsive or whimsical about it. It makes sense to catch the parents off-guard before they can mask and sugarcoat their treatment of the baby. I would’ve done the same.

But all went well. She loved our home. Your mother got a checkup out of it – the section line, her blood pressure, some breastfeeding tips etc. Your jaundice (and bilirubin level) was good and there was nothing to worry about.

Wez dropped by around 10 pm. Your mother had been talking to Nic (his wife) about sore breasts filled with milk. So he had an electric and manual breast pump with him along with all the details of how to use them. I was on a FUSi call with Manu and didn’t get to speak to him. I left him at the door with Liza. But I’d seen their family earlier in the day watching my team play a pre-season-friendly football game. They’ve been invaluable to us.

So far, no swaddle has held you hostage. You’ve found your way out of every straight jacket, Houdini style. I have a sneaky feeling you’ll be left-handed. Yours is incredibly strong and you always lead with it. Hopefully, not into boxing. You share a birthday with Obama. He’s also left-handed I believe. Not that it means fuck’all.

I was left-handed and still left-footed. In Cameroon, it’s considered rude and disrespectful to greet elderly people with your left hand. I think it’s the same notion as in Muslim cultures. It’s classed the “dirty hand“. I think it’s society’s way of dealing with the minority. So every time I used my left, it got smacked. That’s basically how I landed on my right. They forgot about my foot though. Currently, you are like a conductor of an orchestra in the way you swing your arms. If there was music going, it’ll be absolutely hilarious.

Rolling over

Posted on by Kilian Ateh

– 7:37 am

At what age can babies roll over?

Babies start rolling over as early as 4 months old. They will rock from side to side, a motion that is the foundation for rolling over. They may also roll over from tummy to back. At 6 months old, babies will typically roll over in both directions. 

Yesterday, your mother and I took you to our physio session with Bruno. Until recently, I couldn’t feel much from the break downwards on my leg. It was completely numb, like touching an ice block. But those senses are slowly coming back. And with them, a lot of pain. It’s a gift and a curse. I can feel everything. So yesterday’s session was quite challenging. We did mobility exercises. Every twist and turn was excruciating on the knee and the break itself. It almost felt like I’d progressed backwards regressed, even though the reality is I’m taking huge steps forward. No pun intended.

Liza wanted to discuss a path to recovery after her C-section. You and I were resting in the corner as they went through some light motion. You were silent and dead quiet the entire time, sleeping on a folded blanket on the floor. We had you on your back and as I was staring, you rolled over to your side as if trying a new, improved and more comfortable position. More interestingly, you stayed on your side and didn’t wince or cry which made the gesture seem intentional. It was an amazing thing to witness. I didn’t think you could do that at six days old. But you’ve turned out to be quite the surprise.

Rolling over

Speaking of floors, we’re trying to figure out why you hate your cot so bad. We bought you a fancy Snuzzpod with bells and whistles but you can never settle in it. You get all aggy. The £6 IKEA baby changing mattress we have on the floor seems to be your preferred resting place. Either there or our bed. I had to swaddle you last night before you could sleep in your fancy crib five-star hotel. More on that later.

I’m typing from a car charging station. We’re taking you to get your tongue tie snipped. The car’s currently at 36%, which should be enough to get there at least. I’m contemplating whether to leave it charging, walk home, get ready and come back for it so I get more charge. I might do just that.

Snip-snap!

Posted on by Kilian Ateh

– 9:29 pm

Ormond St Hospital - Octav Botnar Wing Menya Ramen

We parked and strolled to the Octav Botnar Wing (of Great Ormond St Hospital) with enough time to kill. Liza filled in the registration form while we sat down waiting for Dr Stefano Guiliani.

He consulted and confirmed the tongue tie with a two-second examination. I held your hands down while he snipped the “string” between the lower side of your tongue and the floor of your mouth. It didn’t take all of five seconds. There was a teeny bit of blood and the procedure was completely painless. Honestly, I felt I could’ve done it myself (especially after seeing the invoice). I’ll have to massage your tongue every day for about three weeks so we don’t get a reoccurrence. Yes, the tie can return.

From there we walked to Menya Ramen and had a delicious lunch. The amount of FUSi work I have to finish keeps me up at night. But I’ve been too tired (and sleep-deprived) to do anything creative. So when we got back, I slouched on the couch with some comfort food. I finished watching The Gray Man and Prey. I won’t remember the former. Prey was an interesting prequel to a classic.

I fed you using one of the anti-colic Tommee Tippee bottles your mother bought from Amazon. It didn’t work so now I’m googling around for “how to” videos. I felt sorry for you hiccupping on the floor so I carried you to sleep. You were smiling in moments and pulling funny faces as you dosed off. They made me laugh.

While changing your nappy, I noticed a bit of bum rash emerging. I showed Liza and applied some of the Aveeno baby cream we received from Zeddie. It’s the only thing we had. I’m sure it’ll suffice for now. But for sure, we’ll keep an eye on it.

Welcome to panic station

Posted on by Kilian Ateh

– 6:22 pm

Mid-morning yesterday, we picked up your grandparents from the airport. Waze took us through the tiny bendy backstreets on the way back which made your grandmother uncharacteristically car sick from all the swaying and swerving. So much so that she had to swap seats to the front and we had to make a couple of stops so she could get some air.

I let them settle in and popped out to find you a Moses basket in Kingston. Liza thought it’d make you more mobile around the house and her mother wouldn’t have to stoop so low to get you to and from the floor (where you prefer to sleep). Surprisingly, the only place I could find one was in John Lewis. They didn’t have the stand in-store so I bought one from Amazon by Clair de Lune which was delivered today. It took less than no time to assemble.

Moses basket by Clair de Lune

Temperatures yesterday went as high as 33o. It was hot upstairs, intolerable outside and best in the basement which always manages to stay cool. But even there, you could break a sweat by simply blinking. Your umbilical cord stump couldn’t handle the heat either and fell off. It had been a source of pain for you so I was happy to bin it.

That was all manageable until your mother fed you. She called me panicking, saying you weren’t your normal self. I could tell straight away something was off but couldn’t allow myself to show it. In my mind, we needed at least one parent calm and logical. Internally I was shitting bricks. The best way to describe how you were behaving is like a toy with very low battery power. Your lights were dim. You couldn’t keep your arms up like you normally do, boxer style. They were lanky and falling sideways when we tried holding you up. You weren’t kicking either. I told Liza you were just lethargic from the Formula, a ploy to keep her angst and apprehension in check.

We put you in front of a blasting fan and tried to instil some mobility by moving your limbs vigorously. Not much changed. Your mother asked if she could slap you up. I greenlit the suggestion. That must have really hurt because you cried. But you stopped way too quickly. The smacks didn’t match the cry. So she did it again. And thankfully, you cried for a bit longer. We’ve never been happier to hear such an irritating sound.

We took you to the nappy changing table as that always rubs you the wrong way and provokes a scream. We did everything possible to make you uncomfortable. I was dousing you with wet wipes, in your hair, face, everywhere. That really got you going. The scare was over. We’re putting it down to something heat related.

Liza couldn’t get you to sleep that night. I think you could sense her worry and became very irritable and easily irascible. She was crying when I took you off her hands. I told her she was exhausted and needed to rest. I fed you the bottle she’d prepared and changed your diaper. Your bum rash had almost completely gone from applying basic vaseline I didn’t know I had under the bathroom sink. You were still pissed off (from the slaps most likely) and I had to carry you on my bare chest laying down to get you to sleep. I didn’t even notice you weren’t in your crib the following morning. Liza was still sleeping next to me as well, which made your whereabouts a mystery for a few seconds.

Like some dirty dishes

Posted on by Kilian Ateh

– 9:55 pm

Remember T from the shower? He stopped by to see you on Saturday. You have him to thank for the stylish set of clothes he brought with him. We had a great time just hanging out. He’s also very good friends with your mother now as well. They’re both readers.

It was a big wet day for you today. Your mother and I got to give you your first bath. It happened in a baby tub in the kitchen sink. We had zero expectations of you. Hate it or love it, you were going to get one and continue to for the foreseeable. But you got off to a great start. I must have had the temperature just right because you behaved as though this was something you did all the time. You didn’t cry. Not a beep. In fact, we could’ve left you there all day. I gave you a mild scrub with some baby shampoo using some gloves from Nic (Wez’s wife). You loved it.

The screams did come though when we got you out of the water and into a towel. You didn’t like that very much. The sudden drop in temperature that is. But that was to be expected given how quickly newborns lose body heat. We had the NCT classes to thank for the mental prep. So the application of lotion and clothing was hurried.

All in all, it was a great experience and I’m looking forward to the next one, and the one after that. You seemed even more relaxed and happier since. If you got any more chilled, you might as well be an ice cube.

PS – Your grandmother filmed the whole thing on Liza’s phone. So if you ever wonder what that was like, you know who to ask for footage. I’m typing this in bed and she’s next to me. Still completely clueless.

You and uncle T You, Uncle T, Grandma You, your mother and grandmother shortly after the bath

Pathfinder

Posted on by Kilian Ateh
You and your grandfather

Your grandparents confirmed you slept very well. Just as I expected. Julia said she didn’t even have to swaddle you. So the bath definitely helped, unequivocally. I think we’ll do it every other day going forward.

Valerie Valery and I had a very intriguing, enlightening, eye-opening honest conversation on what humanity will throw at you w.r.t race and culture. First, we talked about the history of Cameroon. His question was whether Cameroonians are ever taught their history from an insider’s perspective. Not the viewpoint of its colonial masters but something written and documented by Cameroonians for Cameroonians. Something less susceptible and prone to lies and fabrication. He basically worried that Wikipedia may not be the best place to source reliable information which he could pass on to you.

Unfortunately, I cannot speak to the accuracy of what I was taught at school. It needs to be held against alternatives comparatively to interrogate the delta. All I know is what I learned. However, I know now for certain that bits that don’t fit the overall narrative of colonial victory and success are carefully omitted and are difficult to source. We as a people didn’t just bend over. These are our lands. At times we fought and at times we won.

I know this because your uncle, Judex wrote a research paper documenting his findings on the history of Cameroon. It must have been pretty expensive to source and collate all that information. A selfless act for all. It’s a genuine search for the truth, without bias. But as Dave Chappelle put it, “those pages in history are stuck together”.

He called the essays PATHFINDER, meaning People Anxiously Thinking How to Find an Ideal Nation of Divine Eternal Reunion. A mouthful I know. You won’t remember it either.

The first chapter opens up with these thought-provoking questions, the bedrock for all that followed

  1. How do we explain ourselves to ourselves and how do we explain ourselves to our children?
  2. What are we going to tell our children about who we are and what we represent? Who are we? Who am I?
  3. How are we going to tell them so that they understand?

The story of our people. It’s worth reading for sure. I have drafts you can download at the end if interested. The more questions that come out of it, the better. I sent them to your grandfather as well. He’s also another factfinder so he’ll be right at home with these. In fact, I’m going to call your uncle to see if I can help to have this published because there must be like minds out there seeking this point of view. Perhaps.

Your grandfather also thinks I’m “racist proof”, teflon to it somehow. He’s hoping this is a trait I can pass down to you, genetically or otherwise. And despite being racially abused at least a couple of times, neither incident has left me feeling any less than myself. Those events don’t linger in my mind at all. In fact, I’d have to really try to even remember them. They serve as reminders of the reality we live in but nothing more. I’m not going around nitpicking every multiracial interaction looking to play that card. There’s more to life. There has to be.

Valery did however bring it up to say we’d have to do our best to prepare you for life based on your skin colour. We will. But I think you’ll be OK. I doubt you and I would get the same treatment in Eastern Europe. You might carry the cross but I’ll be crucified.

Some people are racist without even knowing. So my advice to you is to always try to see the best in people. At least in the first instance. And remember that no word can kill you. But your (re)actions can. Words have as much power as you give them. So don’t be blind to it but don’t be stupid also.

The stereotype goes, “black people are here to steal their jobs and live on benefits”. Kill them with success.

We also spoke about bullying, especially among teens. Not everything is about race. Your grandfather was a tall and skinny boy. They menaced him a lot for that. They called him a Russian slur which I can’t remember. He woke up every morning mentally preparing himself for a fight. Can you imagine how hard that is to do every. Single. Fucking. Day?

As he tells it, his stepfather thought him some self-defence techniques which saved his life. He recounts snapping once and beating another boy to a pulp – bloodied face, busted lip, the works. I can’t judge him for that. No way. Sometimes enough is enough and you just can’t take it any longer. And the only way out is to send a message to everyone via an example.

My experience wasn’t far away. I’ve always been quite small. So small one of my mates nicknamed me “Mbindush” during my boarding school days. It means exactly that. Small. But very early on, I knew that if I let the first person get away with bullying me, there’ll be a queue of them after. So I fought whoever tried. And soon no one wanted a fight.

I feel this is the only way to handle bullying, by the bull’s horns. To think you won’t get picked on is wishful thinking. You will be challenged at school, at work, and throughout your life. How you cope will depend on the foundations we as your parents have laid down.

So I’m hoping we can establish a relationship where we talk to each other freely. Regardless of the topic or gravity of the issue. We have to find a way to communicate without fear. Don’t be afraid (of anyone). I’m sure your mother would like to know if you’re being bullied. So would I. We’d also like to know if we have a bully for a son. Ideally, our style of parenting will prevent both before it’s serious enough to become a stat or case study. We’ll guide you the best way we can.

Download Pathfinder