I’ve never been a big one for New Year’s Resolutions. Once or twice I may have thought “new year, a few small changes” but they’ve then dropped off over time – of ten before the end of January – and I’ve never really felt I had a whole lot I wanted to change. Sure, I could stand to lose a little weight, do more exercise, drink a bit less etc. Who couldn’t? But I’ve never been one for life changin affirmations on New Yar’s Eve.
I’ve been reading a few articles recently that suggest the male side of a soon-to-be-parents couple will go through changes akin to nesting, just more, well, butch. We’ll grow a beard (check), try and turn our hands to manual labour (not so far) and generally ‘man up’ as we face up to our responsibilites. And of course we have this time to adjust.
I’ve also become noticeably more carpe diem…things I’ve not done are suddenly more important to me. I’m off to Reading festival having never been to a festival before…or at least not one of the ‘big’ festivals. I made a round trip from the North West to London & back to see Blur. I’ve started blogging (as you can see). I am getting through media with the sort of appetite that Goldilocks reserved for only the optimum temperature porridge – be it books, graphic novels (ok comics), albums, dvds etc etc.
All of this is transparently down to the ticking of a rather obvious clock. While I try to consume, digest and consume more, it’s my wife’s stomach that’s getting larger in some weird Dorian Gray trade-off. But here lies the issue. I’ve been given my nine months diagnosis (now down to three). So I get to plan one more big weekend (well, maybe a couple). And I can do it safe in the knowledge that it’s one of that few chances I’ll get between now and ooh 2029 by which time I’ll be far too old to be in a nightclub that isn’t called something like The Ritzy or The Coconut Grove or Duke’s.
And I don’t begrudge it for a second because I’m getting it out of my system, doing a few last things before my life changes dramatically. And changes in a way I wouldn’t swap for a thousand more nights out.
But here is the real rub – while I got notice, mummy didn’t. In fact for mum the whole stop notice was served without any soft soaping or by your leave. It arrived in the form of a positive pregnancy test and the immediate onset of morning sickness and cravings.
So it’s now also really important that we spend time together as a couple. All those things that really won’t be possible in a few months time. Lying in, going for dinner, getting coffee or lunch together. And I need to make sure the balance is right between us having our own individual space to prepare ourselves for November and doing things as a couple.
Writing about the now prominent bump reminded me of the huge minefield the size of an expanding tummy can be. While this is something we all know in everyday life, the pregnancy factor adds a whole new dimension, as we’ve been finding out.
Comments along the lines of “you don’t look pregnant” are clearly complimentary if you’re not, but cause for distress if you are. And “you don’t look five months” seems to invariably lead to the suspicion that there’s something wrong. All mentioned innocently, but for a pregnant lady with all sorts of hormones washing round, like darts to the heart.
Best advice – steer clear of any comment in earshot of the mother-to-be and go with “you look well”.
Exciting times in the development of the bean. For a little while now mum’s been feeling the little wriggler moving round inside. The books have been telling us that around now is the time for feeling first movements and like anything, you think “is it doing what it should?”.
But the magic moment arrived when movement was felt and now it’s becoming evidenced externally – both in touch and, more diconcertingly, visibly! And it’s a great spectator sport – we spent most of the evening last night looking for activity.
A quick note here – I am a massive Maltesers fan (bear with me here) and thus their ads stick in my mind more than most…
And it’s amazing how significant this all feels. While the bump has been getting slowly bigger, and is now very much in evidence, it’s the activity within that’s really starting to make the person inside ever more real to us. We’re even starting to notice cycles of activity – and probably mistakenly attributing characteristics to it…they’re definitely not a morning person but perk up of an evening and really love a little boogie over night. As a reformed clubber this is exciting news to me…all the best things happen at night!!!
Of course, I won’t be thinking that at 4am with no sleep behind me and a day of work ahead. But right now, it’s really exciting to start thinking about the personality of our offspring. I can’t wait to meet them!
Before we embarked on our particular journey a couple of people had mentioned to me how, as dads, they’d found an in-built assumption of many people in the health profession that the male half of the partnership were largely useless, uninterested and incompetent. Now, much as I’m willing to admit my faults (some more easily than others!) it has been interesting to find out just how annoying this assumption can be.
Firstly, and as mentioned in a previous post, a lot of the ‘dad to be’ books I’ve picked off shelves and seen online do it. They’re purpose seems to be to try and make the disinterested interested, to convert the unconverted to a new way of life that they’re working hard to resist. I’m sure there are dads out there to whom this applies…market forces would suggest there must be. But some of us are actually quite excited and, dare I say it, want to be involved.
So it’s been a bit of a disappointment that the assumption of most health professionals you meet is similar. There’s something nicely reassuring about the experienced, seen-it-all-before midwife that puts you at ease. But also seems to lead to a cynicism on their part about the male half of the partnership. Clearly it’s difficult for me to judge – they’ve been through far more pregnancies than I ever have done or ever plan to. And maybe geography has an influence…maybe dads round here are less interested…but it’d be a shame to work on that assumption.
Obviously the priority has to be the mum and the bean…and my reaction has simply been to ask more, chat more, and investigate more so I feel well prepared to demonstrate my interest. So maybe it’s actually a good tactic to spur me on to find out more. But it would be great to think that we’ve left behind the assumption that the man just ain’t interested…and I’m not so sure we have yet.
