It's been a while since I was last here, but I thought it was time to finally pick up my proverbial pen and record some more thoughts. Due to the passing of my dad at the end of November I have been continually reminded of the importance of family. I will probably share more thoughts in this regard in future blogs, for now it is a little too soon still.
So what has been happening with regards to the kiddie bean? A lot of growth! My wife now sports a highly desirably front extension, that occasionally entertains the both of us with visible bulges and kicks. There is simply no hiding the fact that she is pregnant and with this simple fact seems to have come an explosion of appetite! Clearly junior is demanding a lot of calories, and my wife is only too happy to supply them. :-)
More seriously we visited Asda's baby event today and have begun to stock up in preparation. We have two huge boxes of newborn nappies now, which my wife predicts may last three days if we're lucky. The goal is to do towelling nappies when junior's digestive system settles down a bit, but I am reliably informed the first couple of weeks are particularly explosive and prolific.
We now have a selecton of lotions, wipes, cotton products, bibs, sleepsuits, with some Sudocrem and a travel cot thrown in. With this flurry of purchasing came a not insubstantial level of nervous anticipation - it is now becoming very real and I do find myself asking if I will be ready? Is anybody ever ready? We moved from Asda to the babies section of Toys R Us, where we examined a number of very similar looking cotbeds, as well as pushing around a number of prams that approach the market value of my car, yet apparently don't even have ABS. They are extortionate! Baby products come with quite a mark-up it seems. And so far we have not even got a room ready to put all this in. While I am very excited about junior's arrival, it is beginning to feel that time is running out for us to get things ready for the big day.
With that in mind, I'm going to go help the wife put away the Christmas decorations (we've been really busy, ok?!)
Showing posts with label dad; expectant; fatherhood; pregnancy; expecting; baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dad; expectant; fatherhood; pregnancy; expecting; baby. Show all posts
Sunday, 15 January 2012
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Pregnant? Us? Ummm...
It has been a while since I wrote. Not because nothing has been happening - quite the opposite for the little one - but because nothing has been happening for my wife and me. We are in a particularly awkward time. Our first scan is Thursday and we decided to keep a general lid on the news until then. You may feel otherwise, but we wanted to ensure things were moving in the right direction before it became public knowledge. It has been a very hard secret to keep! Our parents are desperate to tell their friends about impending grandparenthood and we are desperate to tell everybody about the happiest piece of news we have ever had. So come Thursday, we will be shouting from the rooftops for all to hear.
But so far, we have kept quiet. Which is very difficult when people ask you continuously about whether you are trying, or not. Conversations tend to look something like:
Friend: "So, any news on the baby front for you?"
Me: "No, we're still trying, which is a lot of fun but nothing yet!"
However, my mental dialogue is:
Me: "YES! We're having a baby! We aren't trying anymore because she feels tired and nauseous and if I so much as look at her growing breasts she winces because they're so sore - but all of this is happening because she is growing our child! How awesome is that! We're due in April, thank you for asking. No, no names decided upon yet. Don't know if we'll find out what it is. But none of that matters yet because right now all that we care about is that we are going to bring a child into the world! Of course you can tell people - tell everyone! Write to the papers, why is this not on the national news? Ooohh...I've got to go and update my Facebook status..."
Safe to say I cannot wait for Thursday to arrive.
But so far, we have kept quiet. Which is very difficult when people ask you continuously about whether you are trying, or not. Conversations tend to look something like:
Friend: "So, any news on the baby front for you?"
Me: "No, we're still trying, which is a lot of fun but nothing yet!"
However, my mental dialogue is:
Me: "YES! We're having a baby! We aren't trying anymore because she feels tired and nauseous and if I so much as look at her growing breasts she winces because they're so sore - but all of this is happening because she is growing our child! How awesome is that! We're due in April, thank you for asking. No, no names decided upon yet. Don't know if we'll find out what it is. But none of that matters yet because right now all that we care about is that we are going to bring a child into the world! Of course you can tell people - tell everyone! Write to the papers, why is this not on the national news? Ooohh...I've got to go and update my Facebook status..."
Safe to say I cannot wait for Thursday to arrive.
Thursday, 15 September 2011
What's in a name?
For about four years now my wife has been pestering me about children's names. I no longer have a reason not to enter these discussions. With those magic pee sticks telling me that I'm going to be a father it is time to enter the world of picking a name for our future child. God help me.
My wife has very clear ideas about names. Unfortunately, our ideas differ. Even worse, for me, is that she's got a good four years headstart on me, so I am going to be forever playing catch up. Until this stage I have been able to say "no, I don't like it" to most any name she presented that she had heard and liked. I no longer have that opt out, it's time to step up, be a man and play my part.
Names are so important. I'm of the belief that they should mean something; they should be more than a verbal tag that you identify your child with. My wife likes ones that 'sound right'. Her favourites basically match the top names list. She wants to make sure they have something that ends in, or can be abbreviated to end in, an 'ee' sound. I think we should ensure they cannot be abbreviated into something that will lead to my child being mocked growing up. I get the distinct impression that this might be a futile undertaking, however, as nobody can match the twisted brilliance of children for warping names into something that can inflict damage on a person. How can I protect my child from the hundreds of devilishly fiendish minds they will face in their path to adulthood?
The simple answer is, of course, I cannot. So from the offset it is about damage limitation. Part of me would like to wait until the child arrives, in the hope that it will arrive with a name tag sewn in somewhere. However, the other part of me is terrified that nothing will be immediately obvious, and our child won't have an identity for the first few days of his or her life.
Anyway, I've probably spent enough time writing this - I've got over 120 000 000 websites to trawl through to find the perfect name.
My wife has very clear ideas about names. Unfortunately, our ideas differ. Even worse, for me, is that she's got a good four years headstart on me, so I am going to be forever playing catch up. Until this stage I have been able to say "no, I don't like it" to most any name she presented that she had heard and liked. I no longer have that opt out, it's time to step up, be a man and play my part.
Names are so important. I'm of the belief that they should mean something; they should be more than a verbal tag that you identify your child with. My wife likes ones that 'sound right'. Her favourites basically match the top names list. She wants to make sure they have something that ends in, or can be abbreviated to end in, an 'ee' sound. I think we should ensure they cannot be abbreviated into something that will lead to my child being mocked growing up. I get the distinct impression that this might be a futile undertaking, however, as nobody can match the twisted brilliance of children for warping names into something that can inflict damage on a person. How can I protect my child from the hundreds of devilishly fiendish minds they will face in their path to adulthood?
The simple answer is, of course, I cannot. So from the offset it is about damage limitation. Part of me would like to wait until the child arrives, in the hope that it will arrive with a name tag sewn in somewhere. However, the other part of me is terrified that nothing will be immediately obvious, and our child won't have an identity for the first few days of his or her life.
Anyway, I've probably spent enough time writing this - I've got over 120 000 000 websites to trawl through to find the perfect name.
Friday, 9 September 2011
Diets and detritus
We had our first midwife appointment this week. This, unfortunately, was not quite exciting as I hoped. Not entirely sure what I was expecting, but it consisted of:
1) Paperwork - with some homework as each page needs a sticky label attached to it. Somehow I feel we should have moved beyond this by now.
2) My wife peeing in a pot. Again. Why does peeing into or onto things seem to be such a key part of the pregnancy process? It is like doctors and evolution have conspired to take this beautiful, magical moment that arises from a sexual encounter and attempt to ensure it never happens again - sore boobs, spousal wind, peeing on anything that doesn't move and nausea. I foolishly asked "why's that then?" when my wife was asked for a 'mid-stream' urine sample. The simple answer was to wash out the (and I quote) "detritus" that might be in the initial drops. That sound is another nail being banged into the coffin of our sex lives.
3) And the latest fairground attraction - weigh the wife!
What happens next? There is a blood test after ten weeks (we are now eight), the first scan at twelve, then a full anatomy scan at twenty. I have come to a growing realisation that the first twelve weeks are a rather frustrating time. All we have so far to confirm this miracle of developing life is two faint lines. Everything else is side effects, and none reveal what is actually happening. We're going to be a third of the way to bringing a child into the world before anyone in the medical professions actually confirms there is one there!
Things could be worse though. Our midwife seems lovely, my wife's in-the-loop colleagues are being incredibly understanding and I haven't had to hold her hair back. Yet. Although any plans I have for healthy eating are out of the window. She can stomach: sweets, McDonalds, potatoes, cheese, flavoured milk and crisps. I have the breaking strain of a KitKat, so with those lying around salads are looking a lot less inviting.
Tips from me at this stage:
1) Sort out some light exercise you can do together - you will need something to burn off the sweet-encrusted Big Macs.
2) Go to bed early - there are a number of toilet trips that are likely to disturb the both of you.
3) Cook things that you are going to want to eat - this might sound selfish, but if your wife is off her food, nothing you cook will be palatable and a good dinner will help you avoid the artery clogging foods your wife is enjoying.
4) Invest in some good books - you will be spending a lot of time with a very tired wife curled up on you, needing strokes, and a good book can help the time pass enjoyably for the both of you.
I cannot wait for our first scan so we will have evidence to show people who exactly is making mummy so uncomfortable (and daddy fatter)!
1) Paperwork - with some homework as each page needs a sticky label attached to it. Somehow I feel we should have moved beyond this by now.
2) My wife peeing in a pot. Again. Why does peeing into or onto things seem to be such a key part of the pregnancy process? It is like doctors and evolution have conspired to take this beautiful, magical moment that arises from a sexual encounter and attempt to ensure it never happens again - sore boobs, spousal wind, peeing on anything that doesn't move and nausea. I foolishly asked "why's that then?" when my wife was asked for a 'mid-stream' urine sample. The simple answer was to wash out the (and I quote) "detritus" that might be in the initial drops. That sound is another nail being banged into the coffin of our sex lives.
3) And the latest fairground attraction - weigh the wife!
What happens next? There is a blood test after ten weeks (we are now eight), the first scan at twelve, then a full anatomy scan at twenty. I have come to a growing realisation that the first twelve weeks are a rather frustrating time. All we have so far to confirm this miracle of developing life is two faint lines. Everything else is side effects, and none reveal what is actually happening. We're going to be a third of the way to bringing a child into the world before anyone in the medical professions actually confirms there is one there!
Things could be worse though. Our midwife seems lovely, my wife's in-the-loop colleagues are being incredibly understanding and I haven't had to hold her hair back. Yet. Although any plans I have for healthy eating are out of the window. She can stomach: sweets, McDonalds, potatoes, cheese, flavoured milk and crisps. I have the breaking strain of a KitKat, so with those lying around salads are looking a lot less inviting.
Tips from me at this stage:
1) Sort out some light exercise you can do together - you will need something to burn off the sweet-encrusted Big Macs.
2) Go to bed early - there are a number of toilet trips that are likely to disturb the both of you.
3) Cook things that you are going to want to eat - this might sound selfish, but if your wife is off her food, nothing you cook will be palatable and a good dinner will help you avoid the artery clogging foods your wife is enjoying.
4) Invest in some good books - you will be spending a lot of time with a very tired wife curled up on you, needing strokes, and a good book can help the time pass enjoyably for the both of you.
I cannot wait for our first scan so we will have evidence to show people who exactly is making mummy so uncomfortable (and daddy fatter)!
Monday, 5 September 2011
Letter to a blueberry
To my child,
School started today. Across the country thousands of children walked through the school gates for the first time. I cannot wait to hold your hand on your way to school for the first time. Hopefully you will enjoy it and be excited - I imagine it will be me that gets upset as you run in to face the exciting new challenges of the day, and I am left to walk home, wondering why it is you have grown up so quick.
Until then, though, you have a lot of growing to do! That day is five years away. You are (apparently - I haven't got the equipment to check) the size of a blueberry at the moment - a long way away from the 3.5' you're likely to be when you start school. Although I am excited about that day, I am excited about every one of the 1825 days between now and then. Each day you are growing at a rate you will never match once outside the womb. In the last fortnight you have gone from being the size of a sesame seed to that of a blueberry. Miraculous!
And in those 1825 days there are so many amazing events I want to see. Your first breath, feed, smile, Christmas, birthday, words, tooth, tantrum, steps, words, and so on. Each day will bring new and exciting experiences for you and I plan on being there to share them with you.
I hope one day that you will be able to look back upon these words - there isn't a day goes by now that I don't think about you. These next eight months, before I can meet you properly, are going to go very slowly - but you take your time. Just because mummy and daddy might get impatient to meet you, we don't want you to come until you feel ready. We've got the rest of our lives to get to know you better. If I could want anything for you, my child, it would be for you to know yourself.
Sleep well, grow strong and I will see you in April.
Love
Dad.
School started today. Across the country thousands of children walked through the school gates for the first time. I cannot wait to hold your hand on your way to school for the first time. Hopefully you will enjoy it and be excited - I imagine it will be me that gets upset as you run in to face the exciting new challenges of the day, and I am left to walk home, wondering why it is you have grown up so quick.
Until then, though, you have a lot of growing to do! That day is five years away. You are (apparently - I haven't got the equipment to check) the size of a blueberry at the moment - a long way away from the 3.5' you're likely to be when you start school. Although I am excited about that day, I am excited about every one of the 1825 days between now and then. Each day you are growing at a rate you will never match once outside the womb. In the last fortnight you have gone from being the size of a sesame seed to that of a blueberry. Miraculous!
And in those 1825 days there are so many amazing events I want to see. Your first breath, feed, smile, Christmas, birthday, words, tooth, tantrum, steps, words, and so on. Each day will bring new and exciting experiences for you and I plan on being there to share them with you.
I hope one day that you will be able to look back upon these words - there isn't a day goes by now that I don't think about you. These next eight months, before I can meet you properly, are going to go very slowly - but you take your time. Just because mummy and daddy might get impatient to meet you, we don't want you to come until you feel ready. We've got the rest of our lives to get to know you better. If I could want anything for you, my child, it would be for you to know yourself.
Sleep well, grow strong and I will see you in April.
Love
Dad.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Taxi for one!
I'm going to be a father! A dad; daddy cool. Pops, pa, papa. Or, when my child is older, an embarrassment. But until then, I'm going to be a dad. Easily the most exciting, and terrifying, moment of my life.
How did we find out? Pee on a stick. I find it somewhat strange that the most magical thing that can happen in a couple's liftime, the one thing that will ensure my wife and I are connected for the rest of our lives (I could, and have, get divorced - I will always be this child's father and she will always be the mother), tends to be discovered by weeing on a plastic wand. And was it convincing? Did we get a nice thick, bold pink line on our spatula of love? Nope. We got a faint, washed out tracing that was barely discernible to the naked eye. But I will always remember that faint line - it was the first time I knew a child could be on its (at only five weeks, it's barely a tadpole - I've got no idea what the gender is! Wife thinks boy; mother-in-law thinks girl; I'm hoping baby) way.
Cue panic.
We're having a baby! Probably. It's so faint. Does that mean yes? Or is this a cruel imagining? Quick - to the Google machine! A faint line does mean pregnancy! (Probably. Be aware of the cruel deception of chemical pregnancies.) A rapid dialling of numbers and we have an appointment to see the GP. There may be those of you who have been through this and are thinking "silly sods". I'll admit, I was thinking the same. I'm a professional, I'm in my thirties, yet I was giddy with nerves and possibilities and needed somebody to tell me it would be ok. And the very nice doctor said "congratulations, I'll make an appointment with the midwife, but there's nothing more I can really do at this stage". He was lovely, but there really was nothing more he could do. Apart from advise us to take another test, just to rule out the chemical risk.
A second slightly darker line. Still what you would likely class as pale. Where's my thick, convincing statement of virility?! No matter - this urine bat stayed in my pocket (with the plastic cap on, I'm not a tramp) for the next couple of days as we told the precious few that have been let into the secret so far. We are waiting for the midwife appointment before we announce the news publicly.
The final confirmation arrived, or, more appropriately didn't arrive, in an absence of menstruation. The test of millennia past. We really are pregnant. We're going to have a baby. I've got a taxi driver for the next eight months!
(Don't let this be the first thing you say on discovery of this news. I just cannot see it being a great start.)
So on these pages I will be charting my journey through pregnancy - highlighting the things I find out, the mistakes I make, and, where relevant, pointing readers in the direction of useful references or amusing diversions. I want this to serve as a journal for what happens so that I can look back in the future and recapture these moments, but also to help others who are travelling on the same journey.
I'm going to be a daddy. :-)
How did we find out? Pee on a stick. I find it somewhat strange that the most magical thing that can happen in a couple's liftime, the one thing that will ensure my wife and I are connected for the rest of our lives (I could, and have, get divorced - I will always be this child's father and she will always be the mother), tends to be discovered by weeing on a plastic wand. And was it convincing? Did we get a nice thick, bold pink line on our spatula of love? Nope. We got a faint, washed out tracing that was barely discernible to the naked eye. But I will always remember that faint line - it was the first time I knew a child could be on its (at only five weeks, it's barely a tadpole - I've got no idea what the gender is! Wife thinks boy; mother-in-law thinks girl; I'm hoping baby) way.
Cue panic.
We're having a baby! Probably. It's so faint. Does that mean yes? Or is this a cruel imagining? Quick - to the Google machine! A faint line does mean pregnancy! (Probably. Be aware of the cruel deception of chemical pregnancies.) A rapid dialling of numbers and we have an appointment to see the GP. There may be those of you who have been through this and are thinking "silly sods". I'll admit, I was thinking the same. I'm a professional, I'm in my thirties, yet I was giddy with nerves and possibilities and needed somebody to tell me it would be ok. And the very nice doctor said "congratulations, I'll make an appointment with the midwife, but there's nothing more I can really do at this stage". He was lovely, but there really was nothing more he could do. Apart from advise us to take another test, just to rule out the chemical risk.
A second slightly darker line. Still what you would likely class as pale. Where's my thick, convincing statement of virility?! No matter - this urine bat stayed in my pocket (with the plastic cap on, I'm not a tramp) for the next couple of days as we told the precious few that have been let into the secret so far. We are waiting for the midwife appointment before we announce the news publicly.
The final confirmation arrived, or, more appropriately didn't arrive, in an absence of menstruation. The test of millennia past. We really are pregnant. We're going to have a baby. I've got a taxi driver for the next eight months!
(Don't let this be the first thing you say on discovery of this news. I just cannot see it being a great start.)
So on these pages I will be charting my journey through pregnancy - highlighting the things I find out, the mistakes I make, and, where relevant, pointing readers in the direction of useful references or amusing diversions. I want this to serve as a journal for what happens so that I can look back in the future and recapture these moments, but also to help others who are travelling on the same journey.
I'm going to be a daddy. :-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)