Author: andreabergesen

As December sets in and the snow comes, we are moving quickly to the first Noel for Andrea. We start the month by buying some Christmas effects and checking out the city in Christmas dress. Weekends are mostly spent purchasing Christmas presents of course, and in between pictures must also be taken.

December also marks the last days of baby swim for the season. We are determined to join up for the spring classes too. The under-water Christmas Pictures were taken by Gry, Badeengel.

This is when Andrea gets on her feet and starts walking “for real”. As long as there is a table, a hand or similar near by she will stand up and she’ll move about. Mummy and daddy is absolutely sure she’ll be an early walker. [Edit 2012: She doesn’t really let go until a little over eight months later, in Rome, on a cruise ship, more on that later].

We celebrate Christmas at Gunnar and Nancy’s place, with the Bergesens and Nancy’s brother and mother. It was a relatively standard Christmas with mostly joy for the children. Santa came by too, which was nice.

Surprisingly we did not take a lot of pictures this Christmas. I don’t know why. One of the pictures is special for us though, the one where she is standing by the vacuum cleaner. This is the first time she gets on her feet all on her own, and luckily Daddy had the camera in his hand when she did. [Edit 2012: Amazingly it turns out Daddy has the camera ready also for the next big, related even, the first time she walks properly on her own, about eight months later, two precious moments for us all.

Things change rapidly in the world of babies. It’s been a few eventful weeks since we last blogged. Teething is still an issue, which leads to a lot of wet bibs. There is still only the one that has broken completely through, but there are at least a couple of more coming.

Late last month, 21st of August, Andrea was baptised, which turned into a nice affair with a good family-and-friends gathering. The priest talked about how one should reap where one didn’t sow. Good idea. I think she also said that if you are lazy about getting richer, her god doesn’t approve. Seems like a sensible divine imaginary friend that god thing of hers.

Yesterday, which would be the 3rd of September, Andrea started a brand new adventure as she un-locked the secret to moving about mostly on her own. The speed is rather low still, and the distance traveled during a hard-effort session is easier measured in inches than in feet, but even today, just 24 hours later, she has almost doubled her speed and her reach. It’s a good thing we have acquired baby-safety items that will make securely lock our ceiling to floor windows that can be opened onto a 15 feet drop. It won’t be long until she can reach them with an uncomfortable (for mom and dad) speed.

As mentioned before, there are changes galore, and they are fast. It all started around the 15th of July when Andrea started working on rolling over and also complaining seriously about happenings in her mouth. For some time already it had been clear that something was going on in the bottom front of her mouth, but that weekend it also became clear that a break through would be imminent.

Ingrid’s mother had been visiting, and she said Andrea would have teeth and be rolling over soon. She was right. Within a week, the first tooth had broken through, and Andrea was easily rolling from stomach to back and back to stomach. Preferring the latter.

We also went on our first adventure after our trip to Lithuania, later that week. We took Andrea to the pool. She loved it. If she hadn’t gotten cold I am sure she would have loved to spend all day in the pool. Cousins Benedicte and Karianne joined us, as did Elise and husband with daughter Sunniva.

The next adventure came shortly after, when Andrea went flying for the second trip abroad in her short life. All three of us headed out to Dublin, Ireland to visit friends like Seamus, Conor, Catherine, Iseult and Theo. More on that trip in a later story. To this story it is mostly relevant insofar as it involved Andrea trying porridge for the first time in her life, and liking it quite a lot. Well, porridge, we call it “velling” in Norwegian, when the porrige is so liquid as to be only slightly less runny than milk.

As I mentioned in the previous blog, Andrea is now comfortably rolling from belly to back and (even easier) from back to belly. We didn’t think about capturing these momentuous moments in her life, but the advantage of being on vacation is that you have lots of time off. Today, while mummy was in the gym, Andrea and daddy also went to the gym and practiced rolling over and crawling.

This is how it went.

as you can see, rolling over – not a problem. Propelling my self forward, not quite as much 🙂

I am really happy I started my vacation this week. From Friday of last week until Tuesday of this week, we have seen more changes and milestones than we could reasonably expect. I am also glad Ingrid’s mother was here so that she could take part in some of the fun.

Last week Andrea would lie on her back or front, lift and move her head, whack things and all that normal baby stuff. She might try to reach and properly grab things but did not  have the coordination to pull it off. That was until Thursday. Friday we noticed she was much more eager to talk to both mummy and daddy, and she would use a lot more sounds and “words” when communicating. Obviously she doesn’t verbalize, she’s only making sounds, but the number was limited and recognizable. Friday, not so much any more. Suddenly there were high-pitched squeels of joy, many more sounds, angry shouts of frustration. None of which we had heard before. We were all delighted, but it turned out it was only the start.

Andrea has not been too happy about lying on her stomach, so we’ve let her have her way and just let her play in the baby “gym” lying on her back. Monday morning I had her in the gym, and I put her down on her stomach just to play around. She enjoyed it a lot, and quite suddenly, she flipper her self over on her back. I thought that was great and put her back on her stomach. With a squeel of joy she flipped over again. All very cool for daddy who was now quite happy not to be at work. A little later, Ingrid is getting ready to go shopping with her mum, and daddy and Andrea are doing exercises in the bed. We’ve been doing some lifts with her, where she, keeping her elbows at 90 degrees, pulls her upper body up with some help from us. She loves it. I lay her down and let her rest for a little while, not wanting to tire her out completely. Ingrid is just abou to leave the house. Suddenly Andrea starts rolling over from her back. Kicking and pushing, and in a minut she has it done. From back to stomach in a few seconds. Daddy is delighted, and has to call mummy in. She’s not quite sure daddy is not bluffing.

Obviously, rolling over on a bed is easier than on a hard surface. For the remainder of Monday, Andrea tries and tries, and fails and fails, to roll over while playing in the baby gym on the floor. She is seriously frustrated. Same problem each time of course, the hand that she is rolling over to get onto her back, is in the way and she can’t get the roll completed. Daddy helps as much as he can.

Tuesday we’re out shopping with Ingrid’s mother and she heads home to Florø on the boat. Mummy and daddy head home to relax a little, and Andrea is immediately eager to get into the baby gym. Daddy goes to do some stuff in his office, but can hear the squeels of joy from the living room. Mummy and Andrea is having huge amounts of fun, so he joins them. More body lifts and strength exercises. All good. Daddy gets up to get a glass of water, mummy is answering an SMS about lunch on Wednesday, Andrea is on her back in the gym. For a few seconds. Suddenly she curls her leg, pushes in her arm, and in a quick move she is on her stomach. Long squeels of joy. Finally she can, by rolling, move towards her favorite (Hello Kitty) ball.

Mummy and daddy are too proud, and mummy sends happy texts to everybody 🙂

Next for Andrea – probably baby swimming. Mummy did get a new camera with an under-water housing for her birthday (which is still a couple of weeks away).

Yes, three months. It’s been a great ride. Mummy and Daddy have learned a lot about Andrea, what she likes and doesn’t like, what kind of person she is, how to communicate with her and all kinds of stuff. It’s been lovely all the way.

Now the first traditionl and formalistic event centered around the prevailing common superstition is almost upon us. On August 21. Andrea will be brought in front of a priest of said superstition, he will splash some “holy” water on her head and she will be saved from eternal damnation in that particular superstition. I am not quite sure what that means for punishment in other superstitions, but I assume it is not good.

So, why do it? Why go through with what amounts to a sham ritual? For a number of reasons, but “tradition” being a chief concern. Rites and rituals performed when children are past the problematic first three months (way back when, that was the touch-and-go period) is common in all cultures and at all times. The Christian Baptism/Christening, which was originally perfomed on adults, adopted this older tradition and made it its own. As it did with most of the other traditions people wrongly believe are Christian (confirmation, Christmas, easter etc). So, we’ll do it too. There is also the in-laws to consider, they are quite religious and would probably be a bit upset if we sent poor Andrea to eternal damnation, which I understand is the faith of the un-baptised/christened. The fact that nobody has a problem with the concept of eternal damnation in this particular form of superstition is a mystery to me. He seems rather evil that god of theirs.

Anyway, that was the rant. On August 21. I will smile and be nice to the priest. I promise.

As for Andrea, and how she’s doing? She’s great. She has now found her voice and spends countless hours conversing with Mummy and Daddy. The former seems to understand each and every word Andrea says, Daddy on the other hand, being rather slow, is still in the learning phase. We have decided to do something silly though, which is to be a bi-lingual family. This means that Mummy in general speaks Norwegian, while Daddy blabbers away in a slightly Irish-accented English. Andrea will probably grow up sounding like she is a Dublin girl who’s spent too much time in California and Norway. To ensure this, we are heading over to Dublin for a few days this summer. Hope to meet at least Catherine and Conor with Iseult and Theo, Seamus and perhaps also our old friends Mark and Janice with kids.

Going on four weeks, and we have learned a lot about what to do and what not to do with a new baby in the house. I think the most profound lesson we have had is the one about being burped. We have both spent our fair share of time around babies aged 0 to 50. We have even observed parents in the process of burping. Once or twice we have even helped. We never knew how important it was.

“Air” in the “system” is painful for a baby. I know that now. I am not sure I will recover from gaining that knowledge. When I say painful I mean “sounds like she’s being ripped apart” painful. For some reason this Friday and Saturday Andrea struggled with her digestion. We don’t know what triggered it. Maybe we didn’t burp her well enough at one feeding. Who knows. It first she was crying a little as she was fighting air in the system. Then she was struggling a little more, and after a while she was screaming her self out of air. It lasted only for a few minutes, but those were, by a significant margin, the worst minutes of my life. I think both of Andreas parents are going to need year long PTSD treatment. Saturday was the same. These are the only two days I have struggled. Not because of stress but because of helplessness. Hearing my daughter in so much pain and being unable to do anything about it was hard. Really, really hard.

I didn’t take pictures at the time. I promise I didn’t. I was trying to help. The pictures below are from a different situation. Some pain here too, but only for a few seconds, once air was passed she was back to normal. The amazing thing about the pictures though is that there is two seconds from the fist to the second. From bliss to badness.

I am looking forward to this not being an issue. I think I can take just about anything better than I could take that little girl being in so much pain.

It has been an interesting ride so far. We spent Monday through most of Friday in the hospital, well Andrea and Ingrid did anyway, working on feeding skills. Production came up as per normal, but Andrea, being a Bergesen, had no patience whatsoever. A couple of attempts, not much happening, and she just started doing other things. Getting annoyed at these people trying to encourage her to try a little harder. By Thursday things were going quite well, though, and since the first scheduled doctors appointment was on Friday, they got to stay one more night. It’s comfortable to be around professionals with the first child. It’s a shame that hospitals push for 48 hours max.

Daddy has obviously learned a lot more about feeding than he ever thought there was to learn. He is also now learning what kind of role he’ll play over the coming month and years. For now he’s the servant. Whatever mommy or Andrea needs, he’ll go fetch. If mommy needs to be fed while feeding, that’s daddys job. Make the food. Feed the mum. Daddy enjoys every minute of it. Last night, after Andrea finished, she wouldn’t quite go to sleep again. “Can you let her sleep on your tummy for a little while”? Sure thing! I love the feeling of her weight on my tummy. Obviously after a while I feel tired and don’t want to sleep with her on my tummy – the fall from the tummy to the bed could be dangerous 🙂 – so I put her on the bed and let her sleep in my arms. I get to sleep some, but not a lot. I just lie awake taking in the beautiful face of my beautiful daughter.

Getting used to being a dad is probably going to take some time. Until Saturday I regularly said “Come to Uncle Terje” when lifting her. Not since Saturday though 🙂 Spending time with her at her tempo on her terms makes me contemplate the role of “Daddy”. What is it? I have made the jokes about chasing suitors with a bat and a shot-gun, but is that my role? The angry, overly protective adrenaline lump? I hope not.

Apparently little girls take a lot of cues from their daddy when it comes to chosing future male companions. This seems like a significant responsibility. All my actions are going to be monitored. How do I treat her mom? If I treat mommy with less than the respect she is entitled to, Andrea will go look for disrespective boyfriends. Do I yell and shout at idiots in the traffic? What kind of signal does that send? Is she going to be going for the loud and angry ones?

Time to get my act together and start behaving as a role model.

For mommy and daddy, reality hits shortly after we’ve fallen asleep Saturday April 9th. I vaguely feel Ingrid getting out of bed, but I’m tired and go straight back to sleep. A few minutes later someone is tugging me carefully. “My water just broke” says Ingrid. I don’t think I have ever been more awake in my life. A couple of deep breaths later I realize this is not a movie, we do not have to clumsily run down some stairs, almost forgetting the all-important hospital bag. This is not Hollywood, and there is no rush.

I call the hospital admittance line and explain what is going on. “No”, I say, there are no contractions. There has been some increase in Braxton Hix contractions, but nothing real as of yet. We are told to go back to sleep, and that they’ll set up an appointment for us for Monday morning if nothing more happens. Back to bed is easy. Back to sleep is a little harder, but we do manage to get some.

In the morning the water keeps leaking, nothing dramatic. We call them back to inform them of Ingrids condition, and they tell us to come by Sunday night around eight to get checked out. Also, if there are contractions, give them a ring. Ingrid is told she can continue with her regular day-to-day activities, but she should check her temperature occasionally. We head to a pharmacy and buy two thermometers, one for babies and one for mommies. I go back to putting together the last of the IKEA chest of drawers. We have purchased three of them, seventeen drawers in total. I love IKEA 🙂

Throughout the day the B-H contractions get a little stronger and increase in frequency. At some point in the day we realize they must be regular contractions. Ingrid has had B-H contractions for quite a while, and the transition was gradual. As we are approaching the 8pm appointment time the contractions come at a frequency of about one every nine to thirteen minutes. I have a contraction timer on my phone, so we can follow the history quite accurately. Realizing this is not admittance frequency nor strength, we call the hospital to discuss with them. Our intention is to go to bed and head in in the morning for our 8am appointment. The hospital asks about frequency, realizing we have kept a close watch they also ask for how they have developed. They agree that the 8am appointment appears reasonable, but also inform us that there is little activity tonight, so if we want to we can come in and stay the night. It’s going to happen in the morning no matter what, and if contractions pick up over night, we might as well be in the hospital.

We agree to go to “Storken” (The Stork). Storken is almost like a hotel inside the hospital. The delivery rooms are large, airy, have a regular, good-sized bed with room for both mommy and daddy. They also have huge bathrooms with bath tubs specially made for giving birth. The “downside” to Storken is that if you need anything seriously medical, such as an epidural, you can’t be there. The “regular” delivery rooms with epidurals and all of the medical stuff is just two floors down though, which makes one feel safe. Ingrid wants to go as natural as possible, so Storken is perfect.

Arriving, the frequency of contractions have gone down. They are now 15-20 minutes apart. The midwife assigned to our room discusses us going back home. I argue that it’s easier to relax there, but Ingrid wants to stay, and given the low number of births that night, this is not an issue at all. Good call on her part it turns out.

Suddenly, around 1am, just a little over, the big contractions hit. This is serious. They are strong, they come at least every five minutes, a lot of the time they come in pairs. They are painful. Two hours later Ingrid is in pain, but exhausted. I suggest we try the shower, warm water is relaxing. She’s too tired to get out of bed. Midwife insists though, and a good thing that is. The warm water has an excellen pain-reducing effect, much more effective than the acupuncture Ingrid agreed to try a little earlier. Ingrid goes from four centimeters to about seven by early morning. Then things start slowing down. Contractions are weaker, frequency is down. Night shift is getting ready to hand over to the morning shift.

A new midwife arrives, asking us how we’re doing, not caring one bit about what I say :-). She takes a look at Ingrid, raises her eye brow and says – “Why are you not at the final stages, you must have been ready for quite a while”. We send a “Thank You” thought to the night shift. They were nice, but not take-charge kind of people. Lene, our new girl, is for sure. She puts together a plan, calls in another midwife, who brings a student. “Sure the student can stay” says Ingrid. Nobody cares what I say so I wisely keep my mouth shut. Not that I had disagreed, and if I had, it had been given as much consideration as it deserved. None.

Ingrid and her uterus is now exhausted says the new midwife. We might have to help you along with some medical stuff. Ingrid is already hooked up to an IV for nutrition since she has been unable to keep anything down since the contractions started for real. A new bag of something is hooked up, some monitoring equipment is strapped to Ingrid, and the midwives and students get ready. There is a plan and it will be executed. I am holding Ingrid in my arms trying to watch the baby heart rate. It is fine. The IV is opened, and suddenly things start happening quickly.

One. “Push” says the midwife. Push like it was a giant “number two”. “You are doing great. I can see a head full of hair” says the midwife. She is positioned better than I am. They are all smiling. Two. “Push” says everybody. “You are doing great. I can see a head full of hair” says I. I can. I am also realizing that a medical impossibility is happening. My chest cavity is getting too small to hold my heart. None of the professionals seem to notice and they are all smiling beautifully. Three. “Push” says the midwife. “The baby is doing great” says someone. I look at the monitor. She’s right. The baby is doing great. I find that to be amazing. The baby is stuck. In a canal. I get more stressed than the baby is when putting on a turtleneck sweater. “Relax” says the midwife. “Take your time. Breathe.” “Here comes another one” says someone, it must have been Ingrid. This chest condition of mine is getting worse. The condition seems to have moved up to my throat too. It feels constricted. They still don’t seem to notice. There is definitely a head full of hair there. Dark hair. Four. Push. I assume someone said that. I also assume someone actually pushed, and that someone else made a nice catch. I’m not sure. All I can remember is that suddenly there is this baby on Ingrids tummy. It’s slightly red. Covered in something that looks like a moisturizing cream. Not well applied it seems.

I look at the midwife. She’s got this astonishing smile on her face. “Where’s my camera” I think I think. The thought is gone. I look down at Ingrid. She seems to be crying. The baby is crying too. Turns out I’m also crying. We’re a family of three and we’re all crying. Some of us from joy and others probably from shock. Everybody else in the room appear to be smiling. It’s 10:09 in the morning on April 11th, 2011. Andrea is born. “Did anyone check the gender” – ah, good idea. Nobody has. I can’t see, there is an umbilical cord in the way. It turns out to be a girl, so Andrea it is. Good for us, we hadn’t really thought of a boy name.

The umbillical cord. Isn’t there some procedure there that involves dads? Someone is waving an instrument in my face. It appears to be a pair of scissors. Someone else is holding what appears to be a clamped umbillical cord. I chicken out. I can’t even watch when Ingrid finishes my job. Andrea is suddenly a unique, independent individual. Now we just have to get to know her.

“So few years to give you wings to fly. Show you the stars to guide your ship by.” — Johnny Clegg