Karen returned from the doctors under a pile of pamphlets and junk. She’s got a pack of little tablets and is ordering books from Amazon, and indulging herself with sleep whenever she feels like it, because she’s pregnant, and so she can. What a life.

For me, she brought back one leaflet from the doctors – yes, just one. It’s called “37 things every man should know before he becomes a dad” and it is very concise. Some of it is a little patronising, and there’s not really much that a gentleman of average or better intelligence couldn’t work out for himself, but there were a few surprises in there for me. Especially point 30: apparently newborn baby poo doesn’t smell. I’m planning on training it to change its own nappies sometime in the first week.

Reading books is all well and good, but there’s no substitute for practice. I AM VERY EAGER.



Karen has an appointment with the doctor this afternoon, so we have to hope that he doesn’t say “Pregnant? No you’re not!” The odds of this occurring are so small as to be non-existent.

I’m currently very worried by faeces. I’m finding the whole nappy-changing thing to be incredibly offputting at the moment. I’m sure that it’s one of those things that you just deal with, and this post at certainly gives the impression that it’s not so traumatising that one can not laugh about it, afterwards at least. So I’m taking some comfort in the fact that I’ll be able to deal with it on a turd-by-turd basis.

Karen’s behaviour has changed substantially since the test, partly due to the psychological effect (I am pregnant, therefore I must be permanently tired) and partly to protect the offspring. I think that I shall soon be looking for a new squash partner, or trying to find some other way of getting some exercise while she waddles around the place.

Last night we discussed how the grandparents will be referred to. My mother has always referred to her mother as “granny”, at least as long as I’ve been in existence. I’m quite looking forward to inflicting the same treatment upon her. I’m going to start as soon as possible, so that I can get into the habit. There is much potential for amusement here.


Changes Are Afoot

Karen was a good five days late for her period. The pregnancy test was almost unnecessary – we weren’t in a hurry to get home and get it out of the way, not because we were scared of seeing the evidence, in blue and white (well, admittedly this was a small factor, I guess) but mainly because it wouldn’t make any difference. We knew we were pregnant.

There were no good reasons not to go ahead with the pregnancy (with the possible exception of being absolutely fucking terrified). She’ll have to stop working for a while, which is a shame because she really does enjoy her job a lot. We don’t know how it will work out financially, but we’re quite comfortable at the moment, so it shouldn’t be a nightmare.

And we’re not the first people to tread this path, either. If the majority of the world’s population can manage this whole being-a-parent thing, then I see no reason why we can’t.

My terror is subsiding, and now I’m just excited. I’ve got a whole new reason to live. For the last year or so I’ve had a permanent empty feeling in my head, as if I’m just wasting time and going nowhere. Now I realise what it meant. I’ve wanted this child for a while, but have been scared that it means giving up this nice easy life that I have right now. But I’m tired of nice and easy. All this comfort and effortlessness have made me lazy and soft, with nothing to focus on at all. And all the while I’ve known that I can’t let it continue, for if I allow my brain to turn to mush, then I’ve hit rock bottom, and significantly damaged my chances of getting back up again. It’s just been a question of what will rescue me.

It’s dizzying to acknowledge that in a year, I will be a completely different person. It’s inevitable. I’ll have to examine my life and figure out what’s necessary and what can be flushed away. I’m going to be a proper grown-up.