This Week In Dadville

So far it’s been a pretty good week. Eleanor and Josie got demoted (or promoted, I’m not sure which) into Nursery 2 – where the care is a little bit less intensive. And in theory the number of beeps coming out of the machines is slightly lower. It’s still pretty bleepy though. Imagine a room with 8 machines like this one all going off at the same time.

It’s odd but you get used to it. Your brain starts to filter it out. And you start to hear only the things inside the gaps.

I’m not sure what the constant bleeping is going to do to our musical tastes, or the musical taste of our girls. Oddly, I have noticed that I’ve not been listening to any minimal techno this week. I think anything that involves electronic noises that could have been generated by a medical instrument might find its way off my playlist in the short term. Maybe in years to come I’ll find it strangely comforting and nostalgic. Who knows?

One thing I did find myself pondering the other day was what’s the first machine that ever went beep? And who invented the beep? Wikipedia’s entry on Beep (sound) doesn’t have the answer – but I’m sure someone out there must know. Anyone, anyone?

Anyway that’s a digression from my transition into full-on baby bore…

So, Eleanor and Josie are in nursery 2 now. I’ve done that bit. They’re drinking mum’s milk through tubes and they’re starting to put on weight. They’re still tiny and covered in wires and probes. But the numbers of tubes seem to be decreasing slowly. Which is great. And the best thing of all, is that it means that we’re able to take them out of the incubators for a cuddle for a couple of hours a day.

‘Cuddle’ is one of ‘those’ words. A word that I never thought I’d be able to write in public. The fact I can is symbolic of the massive level of change that this whole experience has brought about.

Here’s a picture of me and Sophie with the girls out of the incubator. Sorry about the lack of clothes. We’re in a special nudists ward where they’re banned. That’s just how things are done in Brighton.

Seriously (if you’re interested) the real reason is because skin to skin contact with parents has proved to be a massive contributing factor in accelerating development of premature babies – it’s called Kangaroo Care – and besides we do have clothes on under the sheets.

It’s fantastic that it’s good for the twins, I’m certain that it’s good for their parents. Holding them like this makes everything in the world seem like it’s going to be OK. Here’s hoping that the next few weeks are as good as this one…

You’ll have noticed that I’ve totally decided to ignore what I’d said before about not turning this into a dad-blog. I got so many lovely, wonderful supportive emails that suggested I shouldn’t be shy about posting this stuff that I’ve decided to give in to popular opinion. Plus it’s impossible for me to think about much else right now.

To be honest I’m not sure that it’s my fault, this article from Slate about ‘What fatherhood does to the body and the brain’ hints at a hormonal shift that might have occurred in me. They say:

There’s also preliminary but tantalizing evidence that fatherhood can change the brain.

Yes! See. It’s not my fault.

A 2006 study found enhancements in the prefrontal cortex of the father marmoset. After childbirth, the neurons in this region showed greater connectivity, suggesting that having young children could boost the part of the brain responsible for planning and memory…

Oh, that’s not quite what I was looking for. Never mind…

And one last thing for the baby fans, here they are…