I’m 3-to-8 weeks away from becoming a Dad for the first time.
As I write that, there’s a surge of anxious excitement in my stomach and my heartrate quickly elevates. I feel called to action – but there’s nothing to do right now. It’s the energy of anticipation and expectation, like being in the final descent of a plane coming to land. Nothing to do but hold on, try to breathe, and then suddenly…
Bump.
I keep telling myself that the baby will arrive when they are ready – and that I’m definitely ok with that. I’m also strongly hoping – with a small dash of desperation – that they will be here towards the end of those 3-or-possibly-up-to-8 weeks.
I know that Nature has its own plan for the birth – for my partner M and the Bub – and that Nature won’t follow the rational linearity of my neatly organised and appointment outlined Google Calendar.
When people ask, I say that I feel as ready as I can be for the birth itself and for being a Dad. As a person about to step into this momentous new stage of life, that’s true: as far as I can tell, I’m mentally and emotionally prepared. Check back with me a few weeks into being a new Dad, though, and I imagine I’ll laugh at this naïve self-assurance.
As for the more practical side of it all: I’m less ready. There’s still so much to buy – and things keep getting added to the list every time I learn more about caring for a new-born. Some of the big-ticket items are sorted: we have a pram, reusable nappies, about a hundred different outfits…
The biggest item we don’t yet have is ‘a home’. We are close to buying a house – and found out this week that the property our vendors are buying has some sort of complicated situation with a housing association and short-leased garage. Our archaic and convoluted land laws in the UK are going to set us back moving by a few weeks.
A few weeks we may not have, since we are planning a home birth.
I feel both frustrated and fine about this. All I can do is send polite-but-firm reminder emails to our solicitors mentioning the impending arrival of a new human being into the house-moving stress, and hope they act as quickly as possible. I try to practice letting go of what I can’t control, which is everything else.
This is easier for me: I won’t be the one giving birth. My partner is keen to nest – and I am too, to be honest. I want everything in place for when Bub arrives. At the very least, I want it to be our front room they are born into, and not the pokey flat we occupy – the flat we’ve dubbed Slug Palace, due to the numerous and large gastropods we currently live with.
I keep thinking how incredible it would be to have our baby arrive into the world in their own home – a place we hope to live for a long time. As Bub grows up, it will be their home in such a meaningful way. I imagine the future, when they’re a teenager and they bring a new friend home – and how we could point to the spot they were born with deep love and reverence, horribly embarrassing them. The dream!
Genuinely: what a wonderful story and life-giving spirit that could infuse our new home. I’m hopeful the move will happen in time, and trusting that if it doesn’t… then it will be ok. Apparently, scientists aren’t entirely sure what triggers labour. Whatever magical interaction of invisible hormones and secret messages between mother and baby start it off, I am practising an attitude of surrender to what I cannot change.
I’m also, on a daily basis, repeatedly whispering to M’s belly “27 September is a good day to be born…” I’m only half-joking when I tell people how seriously I take this ritual.
Regardless, the time for me to land into fatherhood is fast approaching. Before the baby arrives, I’m channelling this excess of eager and hopeful energy into writing. I’ve got articles coming up: about becoming ready for fatherhood; my experience of trying and conceiving; the daily waves of awe; the surprising gifts of grief.
Once Bub is here (come on, 27 September!), I’m planning on writing about being a new father somewhat in real-time – though I imagine those articles may be a little more raw and unedited. From here on in, Dad Dispatch pieces will be for paid subscribers only - I’d love for you to join me on this journey!
Ooh I very much enjoyed the voiceover!