Sweet Sixteen (Weeks)

And here we are blog entry 100…

Can it really be 16 whole weeks – 17 now since writing – since Isabelle Newman said hello to us all, well, actually yes it can. Time certainly flies when you are changing nappies, figuring out how to fold babygros (still haven’t mastered it, the pesky bleeders), the bleary eyed feeds at – insert random time here – but you know what I wouldn’t change any of it or Isabelle for all the tea in China, or indeed any other country you could care to mention.

In many ways it seems as if Isabelle has always been here – after all come December 24th we will have known she was on her way so in effect will have known her for a year, even if she was only the size of a dry roasted peanut at the time. But, although we have known about her for ages it still seems like she has been physically here forever.

Obviously once a baby arrives it takes over pretty much your (intermitment to begin with) waking hours and those whilst you are asleep as well, your thoughts, all space on your camera’s memory cards and a huge space in your shopping trolley.

In the beginning she was a tiny bundle and now some time has passed and we’ve got to know her and she has grown as a human being massively, not in size, although she is now 13 lbs 13 oz, in that she is now reacting to things, laughing and gurgling…and crying with those teeth moving behind the scenes.

All of this I pretty much expected and was prepared for of sorts but I think that the one stand-out thing that has really taken me somewhat by surprise is the effect of seeing babies or children (real or those TV or film) in mild or grave peril it’s actually not the easiest thing to watch, not that I enjoyed watching children in threatening situations previously you understand.

Obviously real life hospital programmes with seriously ill children are never pleasant and it just makes you think about you and your own, but even the tram crash in Corrie with Molly and Baby Jack (it seems like they can never just call him Jack it has to be Baby Jack) made me squirm a little, even though I know it was all ‘make believe’.

Roll on Isabelle’s first Christmas. She might not remember it but something tells me there may just be one or two photos to show her all about it.

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