Antenatal Adventures: “Will I always have a WHAT?”

The two of us (three, counting our ever-growing unborn son) have been going to antenatal classes for the past couple of weeks. These classes, as well as being informative, reassuring and enjoyable, have been somewhat hilarious. Thanks to the presense of people with, erm, a bit less restraint than us in the vocal department, we have been blessed with some delightful anecdotes with which we shall one day horrify our child.

The midwife and student midwife who have taken our group through these two lessons have been wonderful, telling us the basics about the birth, the pain relief, methods of relaxation, breastfeeding, life with a newborn, exercises, complications and a great deal else, all delivered (pun intended) with a friendly smile and a marvellously calming air of Everything Will Be Fine. That demeanour of cool professionalism has been a breath of fresh air, as has the fact that we were sat in a room with a bunch of other couples going through the ame things that we are, with the same fears and insecurities.

Oh, and the girl next to us who asked how long she'd have “A baggy fanny”, exclaimed “I don't want black nipples!” and yelled “Cameltoe” at one point.

She was amazing. I was most amused by the comment about black nipples, actually, as there was a black girl nearby who, in a delightfully dry tone added “Well my husband hasn't noticed...”

Thankfully the rest of the assembled throng were a little less comedic and seeing that everyone was nervous about what is to come was refreshing. Pregnancy often seems like it's only happening to the two of you, so seeing others in the same boat (a big, sturdy boat full of snacks and people with backache) is a nice wake-up call. We're not alone. It's not just us. That's a hell of a relief.

A lot of the things that are covered in the Antenatal classes may seem like common sense when the midwives go through them with you, but you may not think of them yourself. It's easy to panic, to wonder what the hell you'd do in the event of an emergency, so it's good to know what the options are, how to cope, and what will happen at each stage of labour, the delivery, and afterwards.

I'll not go into the details here, as I am far from qualified to tell you what you need to know. I urge you to go to these classes when your time to do so comes, fellas. Get the time off work. Make the effort to go along. Listen to the experts there, and ask questions. Don't worry of those questions make you sound stupid. They don't. Everyone in this situation wants to know the same things. You're not alone. Remember that. You. Are. Not. Alone.

Just try to ignore the lady asking about her baggy fanny.

Your Daddy and You

Dear Son,

Me again. Your mum is asleep right now and you've been wriggling about in her tummy a bit less than usual today. I think we're arriving at the point where you move around less as there is less room in there now. You're almost ready to make your grand entrance into the world, and we're both massively excited to meet you on the outside of a placenta at last. If I can talk to you, man to man, for a while, I'd appreciate it.

You see, I'm kinda scared, to be honest. I look at our friends who have babies who are growing up into fine young people and I envy them. I want to know what they know. Of course, I will know it, but I'll have to live it first. No matter what advice people give us, no matter what the websites and books tell us, we know that the experience of bringing you into the world and raising you will be unique, because you're the baby involved and nobody else knows you like we will.

However, it's scary, and what I'm trying to say here is that it's okay to be scared sometimes. A little fear is a big step towards understanding that you're working your way through an unfamiliar situation or set of circumstances. Sometimes that work can be very hard indeed, but soon you find that fear will fade if you face it as best you can.

I will no doubt regale you with stories of my adventures before I met your mother, the silly choices I made, the scary things I did, the concerts I performed, seeing my name in print, the friends I had and lost and the new friends I found and much more.

As I cross over from being the child to being the adult and parent myself, I find myself looking at the person I am more and more, and seeing how I can be better for you. A better person for you and your mum. A better dad. Your dad.

I want you to love me and let me make you laugh. I want to play with you and tell you stories, fetch you biscuits and chase monsters out of your room at night.

It will be very hard – through no fault of yours, my son – but every second will be worth it. I want you to be happy, and to grow up to think of your dad fondly, even when I've annoyed you or vice-versa. You see, we're very similar indeed, your daddy and you – we're just different ages. Believe me, the world doesn't make a great deal more sense when you're a grown up.

I want to write more soon for you. There's so much I want to say, but right now I need to go and join your mummy in bed, and lay my hand on the tummy which you are inside while I sleep. I'll dream of you, my son. I'll dream of making you happy and proud, and then I hope I can dream up the courage and strength to make it a reality.

I am so looking forward to meeting you.

Love,
     Dad

We Could Never Be Ready Enough

Our son's arrival is getting ever closer, but are we ready? Not quite. We're getting there, but with such a momentous occasion, can you ever be ready enough? Bg things have happened in recent weeks which will make life so much better for our new family, and it feels like pieces are slotting together at a pleasant enough rate.

However, we are keeping in mind the fact that, no matter how much we plan and prepare, we'll forget something. That's how it goes. We could buy all of the baby stuff in the world and still not have the right things, depending on the individual wants and needs of our own sproglet. Such is life.

Good things have been happening though, and while they have made me feel way older than I am, they are for the best. Myself and my lady have now given up the semi-glamourous city lifestyle we had lived for the past two and a half years, left our “Professional couple” flat and have become homeowners.

In the past two weeks we (well, mostly me as I'd rather knacker myself up than my heavily pregnant lady) have been emptying boxes, arranging the house, buying and building furniture and discussing what next at great length.

The nursery is about to come to fruition, with a bedroom being planned to be repainted and modified in the coming couple of weeks, baby furniture on its way and space having to be found for the stuff we haven't unpacked yet which is still in there.

It's been chaos for weeks, but as everyone and their mothers seems to want to tell us at great length, the chaos won't stop ever again. This is it. Our lives as we knew them are over, and now we need to get ready for the next chapter. Despite the endless horror stories of delivery, sleepless nights and luminous poo, we're looking forward to our baby's arrival.

Are we ready? Not quite, but thankfully, neither is he just yet. Phew.