Sunday 10th November 2024

You were born at 23:19 on Saturday evening. Your mum was running a high fever while she was in labour with you, but she kept on pushing. Her midwives were two ladies called Ivy and Emily - Emily was fun but Ivy was very serious. We were very glad to have them there. Somehow the epidural had fallen out without anyone noticing. At least your birth wasn't quite as dramatic as your cousin Toby's. We had planned to see the fireworks tonight but, because you were arriving earlier than expected, we watched them out the window of the labour room instead. When you arrived, you had your arm up in the air - we said that you came out like Superman. Your mum had to be stitched up, so you and I sat in theatre while she was being attended to. We had a nice chat with the anesthatist: her name was Emma and she was from Cheddar in Somerset. Your mum found this very interesting, but that may have just been a comination of the drugs and the fact she hasn't been allowed to eat cheese for nine months. Just the Way You Are by Barry White came on the radio - it was the first song you ever heard. Then you took your first shit right on me. The nurse had to take me outside to get changed. It was all a bit of a palava. You and your mum were kept in overnight for observations to make sure the infection was under control. You seem like a nice sort of baby - disconcertingly quiet. I stayed the night with you and your mum on the ward, so had to sleep in a chair by your bed. The lady opposite snorred all night. I don't think any of us got much sleep. Hopefully everything works out ok.

Dad.