A bit of a scare

As most of you know now, the two things that Baby Bea loves most are being the centre of attention and giving Mummy and Daddy exciting new experiences. She also realised that in giving them the thrills of an emergency home birth, she was denying them the pleasures of an extended hospital stay. Well, never it be said that I am not a generous baby, so when Mummy and Daddy had to take me for a routine Pediatric visit to the Royal Free yesterday morning I espied my chance to turn it in something a little more memorable for them.

Now, those that have met me in the the flesh might describe me as rather a svelte baby, slimline even. I'm not one of those bonny, bouncing babes...my thing is more in the petite end of the newborn scale. I know I'll grow in time, my Mummy will definitely see to that, but at the moment I tend to vaguely inhabit my clothes, rather than actually wear them. No one has been thoughtful enough to pass me the latest copy of Vogue yet, but I am hoping that baggy is in still in fashion otherwise I might be considered rather déclassé in the fashionable neonate circles.

Anyway, when we saw the Pediatrician, it appeared, to my parents obvious concern that my weight was a little bit under where it should have been at this point. Then they did some tests, which took a while to do, then we waited for the results, which took even longer. Now, I loved all this hanging around, I got to spend time with my parents and Grandma and Grandpa, who had also joined us, but for some reason Mummy wasn't feeling it, especially when they came back saying that my sodium levels were rather higher than they should be and that we would have to be admitted so they could observe me. Come on Mummy, cheer up, a night in hospital and Baby Bea being the centre of attention again what could be better?

That night it appears that the doctors and Mummy had decided that I needed to go on a bit of a high cal diet. Every three hours a rather stern midwife would knock on the door and Mummy would start an intensive feed, whether I liked it or not. Apparently as an Italian Mummy this behavior is actually quite par for the course! In fact, Daddy told me the next day that it was nothing compared to going three rounds with my Nonna's famous seven course Sunday lunches. Apparently, until you are so full you are feeling your eyeballs bulge and are actually sweating prosciutto crudo you are not allowed from the table.

As you can imagine, it was a pretty frenetic and exhausting night for Mummy...and actually for Daddy as well, who had to pick up my Nonna from the airport at midnight in his recently rescued car. But by the next morning when I was reweighed it seemed as all the hard work had paid off as I had gained some weight. In fact further tests showed that my sodium levels were going down and my blood sugar levels were excellent. Well done Mummy!

In the end, when we were finally discharged at 6pm that evening,a visit to the hospital which was expected to last about half an hour ended up lasting over 32 hours. I am Baby Bea and I don't do things by halves!