So 8 weeks ago tomorrow, Jonah Jack came into the world. It was a bit hairy the birth, but not too bad compared to some I’ve heard about. We were very fortunate to have excellent care from the midwives, doctors and anaesthetists, as well as nurses and health care assistants. We feel very lucky.
One of my lasting memories is from the Tuesday morning. Jonah was just a few hours old, and we were preparing to move from recovery to the ward, at about 9am. I’d been up for about 25 and a half hours by this point, Donna the same with occasional naps.
A healthcare assistant called Chelsea had just come on shift. She’d recently broken a bone in her foot, but was at work as there was nothing to be done for it. She came over to help me get Jonah dressed for his move to the ward, Donna at this point still groggy from the drugs. She calmly and warmly explained to me, as she must have done to many new fathers and mothers who are sleep deprived the best way to get a vest onto a newborn (put your fingers down the sleeve). The clothes we had taken to the hospital were all a bit big, and I couldn’t get the swaddling to stay on very long, but it felt like a good start. And this young person who instructed, guided and supported was of great help.
People say that when you become a parent you start to worry about the world your child will grow up in. The NHS is something I want him to have for his whole life, and for his children if he chooses to have them