As we approach the end of the first trimester (in English, we’re nearly a third of the way through), we look forward with relish to all the good things that have been promised us. Apparently the middle third is the easy bit, where the morning sickness goes away and all the cute stuff happens. How can I refuse?
Christmas seems like a sensible time to do all the meeting with the family and telling them all about it. I understand from my research that it is considered rude to wait until after the birth before passing this information on. Never one to buck convention, so it shall be.
Life in general continues to race on at a terribly exciting pace around me, while I fret needlessly about trivial things, and revisit the same thoughts over and over and over again, not really so much in search of answers but just for the exercise. Small things happen that make me ache for fatherhood, and I remind myself that if I just sit tight, it will all come soon.
And I wonder about whether my girlfriend has stumbled across this site, and what its purpose will be in 6 months when the baby is born, and whether I should keep writing it then, and whether I should keep writing it now.
And then I daydream a little, fart, scratch myself, and wish for snow.