Bug report

Product and version

Baby 1.0

Issue summary

User interface issue. Multiple valid inputs lead to confusingly similar outputs.

Issue details

Baby 1.0 accepts a number of different, and sometimes complex, input types, such as touch, temperature and hunger sensors. However, Baby 1.0 only has a limited range of outputs; generally, these are:

  • “happy” (no error)
  • “unhappy” (an unspecified error has occurred)
  • “sleeping” (either no error, or error state not serious enough to report)

This causes confusion in distinguishing different types of system error (hunger, nappy change etc). This can lead to excessive delays, frequently in the middle of the night, in resolving the cause of the error. Generally, this then leads to an extensive period of resetting Baby 1.0 to normal operation.

In some cases, it is possible to get Baby 1.0 into a state in which he shows no error, even though an error clearly exists.

Steps to reproduce

  • Hunger detected: baby cries (expected)
  • Nappy change detected: baby cries (expected)
  • Overstimulated or overtired: baby cries (expected)
  • Temperature out of range: baby cries (expected)
  • Hunger and nappy change detected: baby cries (expected)
  • Hunger detected but soother given: baby does not cry (unexpected)
  • Baby placed in car seat: baby cries (expected)
  • Baby placed in car seat with vehicle in motion: baby does not cry (unexpected)
  • Daddy clips baby’s finger nails: Mummy cries (unexpected side effect on third-party system)

Hardware description

Hardware has been inspected and found to be practically perfect. Definitely a software issue.

Resolution

WON’T FIX. The continuous development cycle for this product will eventually resolve all of these issues and there are no plans to expedite specific fixes for any of the examples provided.

The related feature request for Baby to respond to explicit voice instructions is on the long-term product roadmap, but should not be expected in the next few releases.

Alfie arrives

Dear Alfie,

This is the story of how you were born. We haven’t told you all of this before, because it’s a bit scary in places. Both your Mummy and I were very worried about how things would turn out. But we think that it’s important that we told you the story one day.

This is my version of what happened. Mummy’s experience was very different.

The story starts early in 2016 when we discovered that Mummy was growing you in her tummy. We were very happy, and so were your grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Everybody couldn’t wait to meet you. We went to the hospital for scans so that we could see what you looked like. For a little while, Mummy carried on as normal, even though you were getting bigger. We even went on a lovely holiday. In the meantime, we started to think about what clothes you would like, and what your bedroom would look like.

Then Mummy started getting sick: not seriously, but enough to make her slow down a bit and change the way she lived and the food she ate. She also had to start going to the hospital for check-ups much more often.

Early in September, Mummy went to one of these check-ups, and the doctors were so worried that she was told to stay in the hospital. She spent four days being monitored and looked after. She stayed in the Delivery Suite: the part of the hospital where babies are actually born. There was a chance you would be born right then. You were getting bigger and stronger, and you could have come out and met us. In the end, you decided to stay inside a bit longer yet.

Then, two weeks later, the same thing happened: Mummy went in for a check-up and was told she would have to stay in the hospital. This time, the doctors were a bit more worried. Mummy called me at work and said that you really might be born this time, even though it was still four weeks early. Mummy was put back in the very same room she had been in before.

That evening, the doctors induced Mummy. This means that they gave her some medicine to make her begin her labour so that you would be born. The medicine usually takes some time to work, so I went home to bed. But just after I got home, Mummy called me again to say that you were on your way.

When I got back to the hospital, Mummy was having contractions. That means that her body was getting ready to push you out. The contractions were hurting Mummy a lot, so she breathed a special gas that helped to reduce the pain.

These contractions went on for quite a long time, and were hurting more, so eventually an anaesthetist came in and gave Mummy an epidural. This is a special medicine that was injected into Mummy’s back. The injection is quite scary, but Mummy didn’t mind, because it took the pain of the contractions away.

After a few hours, the doctors came to check on you. They had been watching your heartrate and movements. They used a special machine that could listen to your heart, even though you were still inside Mummy. They were a little bit worried about you, because you hadn’t been moving so much. For the past couple of months, you had been kicking Mummy and moving around a lot. But now you were quieter, and the doctors thought that maybe you weren’t getting all the oxygen that you needed.

The doctors said that they would do a test, and if the test showed you weren’t getting enough oxygen, then things would move very quickly. And they were right. They did the test by taking some blood from the top of your head – remember, you were still inside Mummy! – and measuring how much oxygen was in it. There wasn’t enough, so the doctors ran down the corridor, pushing Mummy on her hospital bed, straight into the operating theatre.

The midwife who had been looking after Mummy was called Ali. She took me to a changing room and told me to put on some clean scrubs, which looked like plum-coloured pyjamas. I was a bit scared about what was happening to Mummy, so I was shaking while I was trying to get changed in a hurry. I went to the operating theatre in my pretty scrubs and rubber shoes and net hat, and found all the doctors getting ready to work on Mummy. She was lying flat on her back and there was a screen up across her chest so she couldn’t see what was happening to her tummy. I sat next to Mummy and talked to her. There was a nice anaesthetist called Sam who calmly explained everything that was going on. There were lots of people in the room – surgeons to cut Mummy open; midwives and nurses who were getting ready to look after you; and the anaesthetists, to make sure that Mummy wasn’t in too much pain.

Some things were happening on the other side of the screen. Very quickly, Sam told Mummy and me that you were out. But we couldn’t see you. Mummy looked at me fearfully. Then, suddenly, we heard you gurgle a little bit, and then cry just a little. And then Mummy cried too, because she was so happy that you were safe. Sam told me to stand up and look over the screen and, sure enough, you were on a little bed of your own, being looked after by two midwives. There was a big clock on the wall of the operating theatre, and it said that it was 5.46 in the morning. Mummy had been awake for nearly a whole day and night.

The surgeons started working to mend Mummy’s tummy. After a little while, the midwives let me come over and see you face-to-face. And then, as the surgeons started to clean up, one of the midwives let first Mummy, and then me, touch you and hold you. It took about 45 minutes to clean everything up properly, while you slept.

When Mummy was ready, the midwives wheeled her bed into a recovery area. This is a special part of the hospital where the Mummies and babies can meet each other properly for the first time, and spend a bit of time together. There were other Mummies in the recovery area, who had given birth much more easily. One of them had even given birth at home.

You drank some of Mummy’s milk, and you had a nice long cuddle. The midwife weighed you: you were 3.30kg, which is a very good weight for a baby, especially one who was born early.

After a couple of hours, I sent a message to your grandparents to let them know you had been born. It was still early in the morning, so I think they were still asleep. But later on, I got some messages back from them, and they were very excited. They wanted to meet you straight away. I took a few pictures of you as well.

Mummy and baby relaxing in the recovery area
Mummy and Alfie – shortly after birth

Mummy was taken back to her room on her bed, and I was given the job of pushing your crib down the corridor behind her. I went so very slowly and carefully that some of the doctors laughed at me.

Mummy had a different midwife now, called Charlotte, because Ali had been with Mummy all night and was ready to go home to bed. Charlotte was very nice to Mummy and suggested that she get clean and comfortable, so that she could have more cuddles with you. She helped Mummy to wash in bed. Then Charlotte noticed that Mummy was bleeding a lot, which she shouldn’t have been. She called the doctor at once. His name was Dr. Matt. He looked like a doctor from a TV medical drama.

Dr. Matt checked Mummy and said that something wasn’t right. He called his boss, the head of the whole maternity department. Mummy started to look very pale, so they gave her some oxygen to breathe and called for lots of help. There is a big red knob next to every bed in a hospital, which is only to be used when things are very serious indeed. They pulled the knob. A loud alarm sounded, and lots of people came running in to help.

The head of the department stood calmly in the middle of the room, telling everyone what to do. There was a nurse whose job was to write down everything that happened, exactly as it happened – all the medicines and all the tests. There was a student doctor who stood next to me, trying to explain everything. One of the nurses was responsible for giving Mummy a blood transfusion, and another for keeping her oxygen going. And the midwife, Charlotte, stayed looking after Mummy the whole time. I counted fourteen people in the room, not including you, me or Mummy.

Dr. Matt said that Mummy needed to go back to surgery straight away. The head of the department told one of the nurses to call a Code Blue. This is almost the worst thing that can happen in a hospital. It meant that Mummy was extremely ill indeed. There was a tannoy announcement and all the doctors’ pagers bleeped and bleeped.

Several of the doctors and nurses ran out of the room to get ready to operate, so the room suddenly seemed very empty. Two of the nurses got ready to push Mummy’s bed back down the corridor to the operating theatre. Dr. Matt told me to say goodbye to Mummy.

You have to understand, Alfie, that I was tired and overwhelmed and didn’t really understand what he meant. I thought he meant that Mummy was going to be gone a short while and then come straight back. It was only later I realised that he meant that Mummy might not come back at all. When I realised that, I cried, even after Mummy was safe, because I was so sad that Mummy might not have come back to you and me, and so relieved that she did.

After they had gone, you and I were left in the room. I sat by the window, with your crib beside me, and talked to you for a little while. You slept. I noticed that you looked cold – you were shivering – and you were breathing very fast.

Alfie wrapped in blanket and sleeping
Alfie at six hours old

One of the midwives came into the room and said that Charlotte, who was still looking after Mummy, was worried about you. The midwife did a blood sugar test on you, and found that you needed help straight away. So now they rushed you out of the room as well. I didn’t realise it at first, but you were taken to Intensive Care and stayed there for quite a while.

I tried to sleep a little in the chair. Every now and again a midwife would come in and check I was OK. Of course I was OK. I didn’t know what was happening to either of you and I was too tired to understand.

At last, a doctor came in and told me that Mummy was out of surgery and in recovery. She explained that Mummy had lost an awful lot of blood because of a tear in her womb.

A long while later, in the middle of the afternoon I think, Mummy was brought back into the room on her bed. She looked very tired and pale, but she had been mended by the doctors. She slept a lot. Later she woke up and noticed that you weren’t there. I had to say that I didn’t know where you were.

After you spent some time in Intensive Care, you were moved into a nursery in the Neonatal Unit. This is a part of the hospital for very tiny babies, some of them very premature and others who were born sick. You had to be kept warm in an incubator and fed through a tube in your nose. You had a glucose drip to help bring up your blood sugars. You had wires attached to a monitor, which would beep loudly if you breathed too fast or too slowly, or if your heartrate got too high, or if you didn’t have enough oxygen in your blood. To treat your jaundice, you were given light therapy, which means that they put a tiny mask over your eyes and then put bright lights above you and below you.

The nurses had to keep checking your blood sugars, which meant that they needed to prick you with a needle and take blood from you. They had to do this a lot. You were so good with them – a little cry each time and then straight back to sleep.

Mummy was moved from her room to the Maternity Ward. She met a friend there, who had come in, given birth and was ready to go home almost straight away. This made Mummy sad, because you weren’t ready to come home with us. And Mummy was still recovering from her two operations as well.

Mummy was very brave and very strong. Although she had been through a lot, she wanted to see you all the time, and that made her determined to get better quickly.

Because you were in an incubator, we couldn’t spend as much time with you as we wanted to. But as you gradually got better, they started taking some of the wires and tubes away, and then eventually moved you from the incubator to a crib. Now we could spend time with you properly. We had lots of cuddles, and we changed you, bathed you, and tried to feed you.

And then, after one week and one day, you were strong enough to spend the night out of the nursery with Mummy for the very first time. And Mummy was a bit scared again, but this time it was because she just wanted you to be strong and healthy and to come home soon. Mummy was moved to a part of the hospital called Transitional Care, where she could be with you and look after you, but where there was a nurse to look after Mummy and to help her out. The Transitional Care room was a bit like a campsite. There were just curtains between her and the family in the next bed, so it was a bit noisy and cramped. Your crib just fitted between the curtain and Mummy’s bed.

Mummy sitting and Alfie in a hospital crib
Mummy and Alfie in Transitional Care

So this is your story so far. And it’s not even Chapter One – that will start when you come home with us and we become a family together. This is just the Prologue; the bit that explains how the story came to be in the first place.

Love from
Daddy xxx

Updated to clarify: No, I don’t really intend to give my baby son a lifelong complex by blaming him for almost killing his mother. The letter format employed here is a useful device for helping me to record and come to terms with events as they occurred, not some bizarre form of child cruelty.

Test pilot

The car seat manual was as thick as a novella and entirely in pictograms. I needed a volunteer to test the harness.

Teddy in car seat
Test pilot – pre-flight checks
Teddy in car seat looking determined
Test pilot – countdown begins
Teddy in car seat being carried
Test pilot – in flight

Swinging the car seat wildly around the living room risked the television and fish tank, but Brutus Bear remained firmly in his harness. He came back down to Earth safely and is currently recovering from his experience alongside his new friend, Alfie’s as-yet unnamed teddy.

Hospital food

Picking on the NHS at a precarious time like this seems particularly unfair. This is especially true because we have found the staff in the GRH Women’s Centre to be excellent, and the facilities mostly so.

Nonetheless, there is one specific aspect of the NHS’s service that we need to highlight: the catering. Frequently ridiculed, it seems that there is no smoke without fire.

At its best, the food was pleasantly reminiscent of school dinners (i.e. lukewarm and sloppy, but with the occasional burst of flavour that reminds you of halcyon lunchtimes in a noisy, packed room that smelled of cabbage and sweaty plimsolls). At its worst, it was congealed and inedible.

But what really tickled us were the menu choices. Here’s an example of a nutritious hospital lunch. Remember that these are being served to people who are generally sick, and who therefore need a rounded diet.

Baked potato on a tray
Hospital food

In case it’s not clear, this is a potato, on a plate, on a tray that also contains a small pot of melted ice cream.

The reason that there’s no side dish with this meal is that the only side dish option available on this day was mashed potato. A naked baked potato … with a side of mashed potato.