The Esteem of Women in Society

Shopping in Target the other day for my new son, I came across a t-shirt with the "10 reasons why beer is better than women" stenciled on it. I was entranced with the depth of insight by such wisdoms as, "beer won't complain when you put it in the fridge to cool off for an hour", or "beer won't complain if you touch another one". To be frankly honest, I was dismayed that a large chain-store such as Target would be willing to promote the degradation of women. Not only feminists, but compassionate men and women of all walks of life, are tired of the constant abuse of women throughout our society. On the flip side, it degrades men. The t-shirt displays the stereotyped disdain men have for women. In an age that is significant for it's hatreds and fears, this vision of male/female relations points us in the wrong direction. Obviously aimed at the younger end of the spectrum of the community, it belies the age-old Australian tradition of the weekend bender. Isn't it time we gave our young men and women a bolder, more imaginative vision of how the two sexes can relate? Hopefully without the need for litres of alcohol as a social lubricant. As a father of two young boys (2 years and 2 weeks) I truly hope they will grow up with appreciation for a world where men and women don't just coexist, but treat each other with admiration, respect and honour.

Gaining weight - obviously

Isaac is developing those well-rounded cheeks babies are so well known for, Samantha reports that he takes a full feed nowadays.

He is also developing strong neck muscles. He like to be held in an upright position so he can hold his head up and look around.

We've given in to the dummy/pacifier. We just need the extra sleep that the dummy gives us (we resisted for Patrick).

Correct Enunciation

The only problem with Patrick's new-found verbal ability is that some words don't always get enunciated correctly. Right now Patrick pronounces 'truck' like 'phuck'. If you know what I mean!

Verbal Integrity

Mum was reminding me of just how far Patrick's verbal skills have come in our time here in Australia.

When we first arrived in January he was able to say a few words, mostly, "mummy, mummy, mummy", or, "daddy, daddy, daddy". But not much more. Now he has are large vocabulary, knows colours, animals and can count to ten (though 5-8 gets jumbled).

Momentous Occassion!

This morning Patrick finally started to refer to himself as Patrick. Looking in the large mirrors of the spare room upstairs, I asked him, "who's that?", pointing to his reflection. "Pachick", he replied.

Normally it would have been, "Daddy", or at best, "Bubby". Mostly he refuses to acknowledge himself at all. So I would have to agree with the title that it is a momentous occasion.

Dancing in the rain

Later on in the afternoon, yesterday, after Patrick played with the magpie, it started raining cats and dogs. I had just driven home to set up a passport application interview at the post office and I found Patrick and Samantha running and dancing around the back yard in the rain. Patrick was having a ball!

Samantha would twirl around with her hands raised like a helicopter rotar, chanting, "rain, rain, rain!", and Patrick followed her lead, repeating the same chant with childish glee. I had to smile, and I just had to go join in the fun. So we all danced around chanting the rain chant.

Ahhh, if only every day was as delightful!

Watch the video of Patrick and daddy doing their version of the rain dance ...

Magpies

This afternoon has brought me a lot of joy and happiness as a father.

When Patrick woke from his afternoon sleep we walked down the back yard of my parent's house to find a magpie or two, and throw some bread at them.

I was enthralled by Patrick toddling down the garden, tearing off a chunk of bread and throwing it to the magpie.

What was even more gratifying was that the magpie had been waiting for us - seeing us from his afternoon nap spot, he rushed from under a tree straight for Patrick, and the bread he was holding. No fear, just eager for a feed. Once Patrick threw the bread at him it was a different matter! Chasing the magpie around a clump of gum trees.

To us a son is born ...

The arrival of a new baby is no small thing. Isaac has been long awaited by us, particularly Samantha, as she carried Isaac for 9 months (minus a week or two at the end). I was instantly amazed at how small he was, thinking our two-year-old to be on the small side, Isaac was positively diminutive. And when I went to get Patrick from mum and dad's after the birth, he just looked huge! It was a strange perceptual trick my eyes were playing.

Four weeks in and we are adjusting to the new family arrangements. Patrick enjoys his baby brother and is very sweet, kissing and cuddling him, and even offering Isaac his own nipple for a suck of 'mup' (Patrick's word for milk). Cute and hilarious at the same time.

The nurse encouraged us to place Isaac on his tummy to build up his neck muscles, which I have been doing. His neck is surprisingly strong for such a small bundle of flesh, always trying to push up to see the world around him.

I'm enjoying fatherhood 2.0!

Health Check and Fatherhood Scale

This morning Samantha and I made the 10 minute walk to Baden Powell Maternity Health Clinic for Isaac's 4 week check up. FOUR WEEKS!!! I can't really get my mind around that! Where'd the last four weeks go?

Anyhoo, Isaac is the picture of good health, smack-bang in the 50th percentile of weight and length (it's not height yet I guess until he can stand on his own two feet). He put on over 500grams of weight in the last two weeks, making the Maternal Health nurse very happy.

Patrick will have a chicken pox vaccination on Friday and then we need to go back to finish the paperwork and make sure the vaccination registry has Patrick's full details. Then we should get the $200 vaccination bonus from Mr Howard, thanks for asking.

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How do I rate as a father? What is fatherhood really about? If I was to develop a "healthy fatherhood" scale, what would be the determining factors?
Child Care (changing nappies, spending time with child/ren, getting up in middle of night to attend to screaming baby/wife)

Domestic Assistance (washing the million nappies dirtied today, hanging them out, folding them (no need for the iron), house keeping, shopping, tidying up the 2 year-olds mess - and mine)

Husbandliness (checking in on wife, making conversation to keep relationship alive, reminding each other of how we had the baby in the first place - be careful when full breastfeeding stops)

Personal Health (exercise, good eating, renewing myself - books, podcasts, personal coach)

Child Relational Health (how am I developing a positive and unique relationship with each child?, do I spend time with each that is not being distracted by above activities?, do I know/understand their concerns at this time?, how am I preparing myself for their next steps as a person?)

Other factors?

The birthing of Isaac Jonathon Baker Evens

February 14th, 2007.

It was only two days before that Samantha had woken from regular contractions and we had trundelled down to Frankston Hospital for observation. Of course, nothing happened so we drove home again, but today was different.

Samantha woke around 6:30am from regular contractions, after trying to ignore them most of the night. By 7:30is we were walking out of the bungalo, past my dad, who was watering the lemon tree, saying, "we're going down to the hospital", which, on reflection, was incredibly vague. But I was fairly sure this was just another false alarm. My dad threw me an unsure look, but I didn't elaborate or anything. Later on he said that he didn't realise what was really going on, and wasn't expecting his fourth grandchild by the end of that morning.

We jumped in the car - well I did. I think Samantha wasn't feeling that great with the regular contractions. And we were both tired, too. And made it down to Frankston Hopital in 5 minutes or so. I did the usual, dropping Samantha off at the front entrance and then went to find a carpark - sometime difficult, but not a problem at 8am. Actually, I got a really close car park that morning.

By the time I walked upstairs to maternity ward, Samantha was already in an observation room and the nurses were setting up a fetal monitor. Quickly, I could see that the contractions were real, intense and unerringly regular - it looked like we were having a baby today. I said to Sam, "maybe I should go call the parent to let them know this is looking serious". So I trundelled off downstairs to go outside were I could use the mobile phone. I spoke to mum for a short while and then on my way back inside stopped at the stall at the bottom of the stairs. They were selling hand-made soaps and they looked pretty good, and cheap too. I perused the soaps for a while, chatting with the shopkeeper, finally deciding on a large block of olive oil soap, and two small blocks, one mango and the other mixed fruit or something. The mango, the woman had informed me, has Shea butter in it and is a great moisturiser and great for shaving.

I walked upstairs, hoping I hadn't lingered too long.

When I walked into the room, pulling back the barrier curtains, Samantha was crying and had a distressed look on her face. I sat down thinking, I'm in trouble now, but she just kind of blubbered, "we're going to have a baby today". I was a bit surprised by this. Not that we would have a baby, but that she was crying about it. Wasn't that why we were here in Australia? hitting the pause button on our lives in Cambodia for four months? Anyway, I figured she was emotional about it. After all, the labour affects her far more than me. Apparently the nurses were prepping for a caesarian right then.

I went back downstairs and called mum again to confirm, "yes, we really are having a baby today".

Sure enough, within twenty minutes or so, Samantha was being transfered by a hospital orderly down to the operating theatres.

When we arrived at the operating suites, Samantha and I were separated. She went on in first, and I had to 'suit up' into what looked like an abattoirs uniform - white overalls with a hair net. I was then escorted to a seat to wait while Samantha was prep-ed for the C-section.

As fate would have it, I was sitting next to an old guy in his seventies, who had broken his arm about three days before. He was lying on a gurney and had been waiting for his arm to be set since he broke his arm. Each time he was about to go into theatre they would tell him, "sorry, we've got an emergency", and he'd have to wait some more. He seemed in good cheer about it. I would have been spitting chips. But I felt bad for him. Samantha was technically having an 'emergency' operation so we were bumping him yet again.

Finally I was called into theatre and seated by Samantha's right hand side, just behind her head. She was laid out on a table, all dressed in white. A technician was shaving the top of Samantha's pubic hair. Neither Samantha or I could see much because the staff had hung a sheet over her chest, blocking the gorey view. Quickly, surgeons entered and began working.

We had been told that even though a c-section takes about an hour to complete, most of that is stitching up the wound, so the baby comes quite quickly. This I found to be pretty accurate. The staff did their jobs quietly - extremely quietly. None of the tv OR chatter I was expecting. The anaethetist talked with Samantha about her other children. And within ten minutes, I guess, waters were breaking, forceps were being used and finally a tiny body emerged from Samantha's abdomen.

When I first saw Isaac, and infact for quite some time, he wasn't moving at all. He looked kind of lifeless. But I think he was just asleep. After 30 seconds or so he whimpered and cried a little, but was silent for the most part. Not like Patrick, who chattered like a chimpanzee.

Isaac was very pink, but slimy with plenty of blood smeared all over him. But I thought he looked pretty healthy. I was anxious until I heard him cry the first time. And, I guess because a c-section is a little easier going for the little guy, he came out without a blemish.

The nurses took him to the newborn baby station, which I guess has a heater on it, and cleaned him up, then they asked me to come over and cut the cord, which I thought was pretty silly as the surgeon had already done that. But I guess they wanted me to feel involved. Well, I think an involvement scale of 1 to 10, this was a 1, as the surgeon did it all. But soon I was holding him and Samantha was able to see him.

I opened up my meat-work suit so that the baby could touch my skin. Given Sam was still 'open' that might have been a no-no, but I didn't care, and no one opposed me. Sam was able to hold Isaac on her chest for a bit and even tried breast feeding, but decided to wait till she was out of OR.

Finally, Sam was zipped up and I was escorted to the recovery area, where some confusion ensued. The nurse, or whoever, who was guiding me asked me whether I could go in to the recovery room or I had to sit out. I replied that no-one had said anything about it to me. She looked worried, confused and concerned and conferred with someone from recovery. He said, "sure, come on in". And I sat in a chair with Isaac in my arms, waiting for Sam to come out.
I didn't find out until later that the staff had initially told Sam they would take the baby until she was back in the hospital ward. At that, Sam burst into tears. This shook the staff up, as she was already on the operating table, and I guess they didn't like the idea of their patient crying hysterically through an operation. After some quick deliberation they decided it would be o.k. to keep Isaac with her after all. Du-uh.

When Sam came to recovery, she tried feeding Isaac, who took to it straight away. No problems. The recovery guy was really happy and encouraged us saying, "this is really natural". And the midwives were very excited - "this has never happened before", they kept saying. It wasn't until Sam told me about her crying that I realised the significance of what had happened. This was the first baby EVER, to have been allowed to stay with it's parents throughout the whole procedure! Hard to believe, but true.

We actually weren't in recovery very long. 10 minutes perhaps, and then went back to the maternity ward. Isaac was our very new baby boy.

Beginning (again) with two

Being a father of two has turned out to be a lot easier (touch wood) than I thought. Isaac has been an easier transition, mostly because Samantha and I were more aware of what to expect. The last week has increased the difficulty quotient as Isaac refuses to sleep well at nights - but that is normal for a 3 week old.

Patrick is a wonderful older brother. He loves to cuddle and kiss Isaac, and when Isaac cries he often goes over to comfort him, or even pick him up (we intervene at that point!). At night, when Isaac cries a lot, Patrick wakes momentarily, groggily moves up into our bed and then goes straight back to sleep. Other times he just laughs at the silly noise Isaac makes.

I am finding that I spend little time with Isaac. Well, less than I expected. I hold him, change him, try to console him at 2:30am to no avail I might add. But Sam has the equipment and I don't, so Isaac is with her most of the time.

On the up side, I am spending much more time with Patrick, and really enjoying his energy and enthusiasm. We love to run around my parents' backyard, chasing after magpies, running through trees, playing hide-and-seek (of sorts), and being wild men. I throw him around vigorously and as I put him down he says, "Again?". Who can resist?

Right now, Patrick is in the bath, covered in bubbles and red bath crayon. We're having a great time.