It’s a funny thing, as a women you spend nine months carrying a mini human and the bond you form during those months burns slowly and steadily, yet is all consuming and absolute in the same breath. I definitely remember a switch flicking when I fell pregnant, the maternal shift, and an outright sense of having to love and protect my little cub no matter what. Mothers instinct.
That coupled with a nine month adjustment and time to get used to our baby’s personality – you learn a lot from the behaviour of that bump I can assure you – means that for a women when the baby does finally arrive you already feel like you know your child really well.
Kicks at all hours of the morning, flutters when you put certain music on, grumbles after food, wriggles when you accidentally dig a book too firmly into bump – that pre-birth, bump personality is something pretty special.
For the man, the partner, the daddy, well things are a little different aren’t they? As much as you can involve them in those precious landmark moments – the first kick, tumbles when the radio goes up high, showing them that the rather odd looking bulge to the right of your tummy isn’t in fact the tenth Ferrero Rocher you devoured when binging on Games of Thrones re-runs but IS in fact their unborn child’s hand/foot/elbow (you never really know, it’s all guess work) – it’s just not quite the same as carrying the precious cargo in your own body.
I always tried my best to remember that while I’m carrying the child and bonding on a minute-by-minute basis well before the nappy changes and outrageous sleeping patterns commence, for the father, for Chris, out pops bubba one day and then boom – he’s catapulted into fatherhood instantaneously. Thrust into some sleep-deprived, postpartum coma, drowning in dirty babygrows and muslin cloths, wondering what the heck just happened to his life and expected to cruise through Superdad territory like a racing driver or top athlete.
Every nappy change, cuddle, game played, bath time, book read, outfit change, tantrum averted, pram push and 10pm run to Tescos for nappies because mummy’s brain has all but gone to mush, is totally appreciated.
Chris, you are the captain of our ship and Hector and I adore you. Happy Father’s Day.
When I was carrying and my husband called me throughout the day for a chat I’d put him on speaker phone and Hector would start kicking away inside me, it really was the most magical, endearing thing. The two boys in my life bonding from the get-go. Blew my mind to be honest. Hector just knew it was him. Now little man is here and they’re best buds, two peas in a pod and that is why this Father’s Day, his FIRST Father’s Day, I’ll be switching off, unplugging and lapping up the wonder that is Daddy and Hector.
Happy Father’s Day all.