Thursday, 19 March 2015

39 Weeks Pregnant - Dear the (very British) Daddy to be

Thank you. 

When we found out the surprise news that we were to be more than just partners - we were to become parents - thank you for taking the news so well and never once suggesting we do anything other than have our baby. 

Thank you for being overly protective of me, especially in my first weeks, and walking me to and from work on several occasions. 

Thank you for, one day, surprising me half way through my hour walk home with a large carton of apple juice because I was thirsty - and thank you for carrying my heavy work bags. 

Thank you for making me a large flask of ginger tea and wrapping ginger biscuits in foil for me to have at work every day when sickness really was at its height and I couldn’t keep anything down. 

Thank you for suggesting I get a taxi to and from work when I was exhausted and sick and couldn’t get out of bed early enough to walk to work. 

Thank you for being so concerned and strict with me when we had to go to A and E after a day and night of continuous sickness, talking on behalf of me to the nurses, not flinching when I vomited in front of you several times in the hospital sink and blowing up the surgical gloves to try and make me laugh. 

Thank you for suggesting I go to my parents’ house for the week while you packed up our entire house and moved for us so that I wouldn’t have to.  

Thank you for going to our new house early in the morning before I got there to set up the baby’s rocking moses basket and clothes rail in the new nursery to make me feel better about all our other possessions being boxed up. 

Thank you for buying me a pregnancy pillow. 

Thank you for shouting at:
  • the Estate Agents when they called me despite you asking them not to
  • The supermarket delivery service for me when they didn’t assist me with the heavy shopping at the door
  • the hospital midwife when she put the fear of God into me about ‘hospital births’ as opposed to ‘home births’ 
  • My work agency when I was too sick to finish my paperwork or work contract. 

Thank you for buying me a hospital bag. 

Thank you for buying me a second hospital bag when you realised I wanted to take everything I have ever owned to the hospital. 

Thank you for running me baths, filling my hot water bottle every night to soothe my back, making me copious amounts of tea with honey and doing all my laundry. 

Thank you for surprising me with Ice Cream, Chinese food and cooking me full Roast Dinners when I got my appetite back. 

Thank you for letting me wander up and down the aisles of several supermarkets miserably for literally hours and still leaving with nothing because nothing looked appetising. 

Thank you for surprising me with gossip magazines. 

Thank you for giving up smoking for our son. 

Thank you for asking everyone in our County if I could use their toilet. 

Thank you for securing a full time permanent job which means that I can stay at home for as long as I want with our baby and not making me feel guilty when I spend the money you have earned. 

Thank you for talking to people at work about me and asking other people’s advice and buying me several pregnancy books. 

Thank you for suggesting I stop reading the pregnancy books as they appeared to make me more, not less, anxious - and make me imagine a plethora of symptoms I could have. 

Thank you for Googling every single symptom I have ever had to check it is normal and only telling me the positive results. 

Thank you for listening to me crying and having panic attacks about labour. 

Thank you for watching the birth video at the hospital while I faced the wall and for telling me afterwards that "it really didn't look that bad" even though I could tell you were lying. 

Thank you for putting up the shower curtain, the nursing chair and for taking down and re-constructing the bed numerous times to try and pick the best bedroom for us and the baby.

Thank you for always taking out the rubbish and doing the (vomit inducing) Cat’s litter tray. 

Thank you for coming with me to the scans and always asking about my midwife appointments.

Thank you for coming with me to hear the heartbeat. 

Thank you for not telling my Mother our son's name despite her offering you money to give it up. 

Thank you for pretending not to notice my extra facial hair. 

Thank you for putting my socks on my feet when I have been unable to reach. 

I am sorry. 

I am sorry that the woman who has been in front of you for these 9 months has not been the woman you originally signed up for. 

I am sorry that the fun, happy, hyper girl you fell for has, at times, been replaced by a weepy, insecure, moody nightmarish bitch-cow-wench from Hell. 

I am sorry that when you didn’t want to come to Mothercare for the twentieth time with... my Mother.... I decided you were a selfish pig. 

I am sorry that if you fall asleep downstairs on the sofa I decide that you are a waste of space. 

I am sorry that when I asked you what song I should have on my labour soundtrack and you suggested "my achey breaky vagina" I didn't laugh. 

I am sorry that if you have an extra glass of wine (or a cigar on a special occasion) I brand you a complete arse hole and start to plan my life alone. 

I am sorry I have changed from a confident lady to a paranoid, jealous mess who assumes you are chatting up all the other women who don't have swollen ankles, a distended belly or extra facial hair. 

I am sorry that I have grown extra facial hair and for at least 75% of my pregnancy have not bothered to put my make up on, washed or blow dried my hair, shaved my legs or worn a bra.  

I am sorry that I give you a hard time if you don’t cuddle me enough or always say the right things. 

I am sorry that I have been, at times, irrational, unmanageable and just plain ridiculous. 

I am sorry that I have not seen you, at times, for the good man you are. 

I promise.

I promise that soon you will get your girlfriend back.

I promise that I will stop putting so much pressure on you to be my everything. 

I promise that I will stop being ridiculous, hormonal and making mountains out of tiny molehills. 

We have known each other for seven years - but we really didn't know each other until 9 months ago. 

Yes, sometimes, you can be all action and no words - but 

I promise that I will try to be fair and see you for what you are more often - a wonderful, kind, excited - very British, daddy to be. 


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