Another mad week...

Ok, so we're up to 7 weeks and 3 days now.  It's going quickly which is fortunate given how the poor mother-to-be is feeling.  I suppose it's sod's law that the emetophobic doesn't just get morning-sickness, but all-day sickness.  For that reason it is unlikely that I'll be doing a weekly picture for the time being, but maybe around the 14 week mark or something.

Despite all the feeling awful Annie has done really well in getting over it this weekend and we had a mini day out today.  We took a short drive down to Dungeness, mostly to see Derek Jarman's garden which is really interesting, as is Dungeness on the whole.  On the long approach all the bare trees and brown grass merging with pebbles seems a bit ghost-town, then we passed an old woman on a mobility scooter, come trike with about 5 small dogs in tow, which really cemented the surrealness of the place.  Then we stopped off at a farm shop for a snack and some tea.

In more pregnancy related news we have received a letter confirming our first midwife appointment for March 15th which at the moment seems like a long time away but I'm sure will come right round like a record.  I'm finding that the people close to us are up to the "Do you want to know the sex" stage, I've been certain that I would like to know since the beginning.  Next I suppose everyone at work will find out.  My mother-in-law who is also my boss (nothing wrong with a little nepotism) is doing budgets for the year and I feel too bad to make her leave out my paternity cover so I've got a bombardment of questions to look forward to there.

Unfortunately for my Grandparents they went to Benidorm the day after we told them (I'm not sure how unfortunate that is, sun, sea, all the food and booze they can eat and drink) and so we received a call from them today, post-dinner, desperate to find out the latest news (so much so they were happy to pay for an international call from a mobile!).

I've been feeling desperate to help Annie feel a little better and I think a fun day out and some back rubbing and hair stroking seems to be doing the trip.  In return, Annie has been hugely supportive and sat and watched the whole 135 minutes of Carling Cup, Liverpool v Cardiff final...that is an achievement not to be sniffed at.

We're both hoping that things get a little better for Annie soon, but she's very strong and I know she'll take what this pregnancy throws at her (hopefully not more dreams about giving birth to a cat!  That's another story).

Already going fast...

Well it's been an entire week since we found out that a baby is-a-brewing.  That week felt like no time at all, in a way this feels a little scary (the house needs to be sorted out, there's money to save and general preparation), in some ways it's good (I'm very impatient and want these 9 months to go as quickly as possible).

I've had a week to digest the news, try and learn about pregnancy and babies and all the stuff.  In a week I have not managed to get my head around the dating of a pregnancy at all, the test said 2-3 weeks last week, so then it was 2.5 weeks in my mind.  The next thing was Annie telling me it's not that simple, so we looked up online and it seemed it was roughly 1-2 weeks on top of what the test says, so that's around 4-5 weeks.  Then Annie had her first docs appointment and now it's meant to be 6 weeks, the mind boggles.

The other thing I have learnt is that symptoms can onset really quite early on in the pregnancy.  Annie already is experiencing nausea, which seems to become more acute at an alarming rate, an almost super-human sense of smell and (possibly the worst from my point of view) a large selection of different food types that are extremely unappealing.

Taken at 5 weeks and 4 days.

While I know that most people would be promoting female independence in pregnancy, it's a tough proposition when I'm around.  I've been maintaining a strict regime of 5 portions of fresh fruit and veg a day and nice healthy dinners but making food appealing is certainly a challenge.

Unfortunately, us both being impatient by nature means that the fact the midwife has not called in 2.5 days is nail biting and I know I speak for myself when I say that I can't wait for the first scan (somewhere between 10 and 14 weeks if I'm not mistaken), so I suppose I had better get used to suspense.

Anyway, it seems a nice idea to document the stages of 'baby-bump' (not there yet) so below is a picture that I took of the mother-to-be on Monday and lazily failed to put up until now.  Next time it will be a little more punctual.

Calm down, dear...

After approx 36 hours of knowing that I'm going to be a father I am, I suppose naturally, all over the place with my feelings.

The obvious initial emotion, was excitement coupled with a healthy dose of shock.  Thankfully the shock has subsided a bit now and I'm left with the excitement more than anything.  After not long, I noticed a certain sense of pride, a certain "well done me" type of thing (in the least crude way possible).

It was unbelievably soon that I started annoying Annie with my persistent "be careful!", "don't walk on the ice!", "make sure you can eat that!" directions.  As it turns out I'm incredibly protective and obviously much more into ''ealth and safety' than I thought.

I think I'm just being over-paranoid now though, I've started a weird sort of paradox where I start worrying when Annie feels OK.  When she's feeling a bit sick or she complains of sore boobs or something, I feel secure that everything is progressing as normal.  As soon as I inquire "how are you feeling" and the response is "yeah, fine" I start to panic that all is not as it should be, before being told "you don't always feel bad, and it's not a good thing if you do".

I can see that I'm going to have to get used to this, dealing-with-a-pregnant-lady, lark.  One step at a time.

"I am your father"...well...will be...

Friday 10th February 2012 was a standard Friday at work.  It was a relatively slow day and I was looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend.  Things perked up as soon as I booked tickets for the opening night of Star War Episode 1 in 3D.  I had been looking forward to it all day (this is nerdy apparently) but was a little unhappy that Annie had been telling me she felt sick all day.

17:15 finally arrives and began my long journey home.  Upon return home, there was the usual matter of tending to the rabbits and scoffing some nosh before eagerly jumping in the car to go to the cinema.

The film went as planned and was every bit as good as the first 2 times my Dad took me to see it and the 1 time my Grandad took me to see it when I was 11.  After the film Annie asked me if we could swing by Sainsbury's as she'd been feeling a bit sick and she was *ahem* late (man terms).

When we got home Annie went upstairs, as apparently she hadn't been to the bathroom for hours, and unwrapped the Clearblue test.  There was a sense of foregone conclusion about the result, both when purchasing the test and taking it.  However on this occasion Annie shrieked as the test came up with a bold vertical line and a familiar thin horizontal line crossing it.  Ever the pessimist I told her that we shouldn't get too over-excited as it takes a while to give the true result, all the time sporting a huge grin.

After the prescribed 2 minutes that big fat line wasn't going away.  We instantly beamed at each other and wrapped our arms around one another.  Apparently it's not a great idea to take the test and find out you are pregnant with your first child, just before bed time.  We stayed up for hours and talked about the future and who we would tell and when.

The next day we invested in a digital Clearblue test *thanks Clubcard vouchers*.  There was a niggle at the back of our heads that said "that first test was wrong" and we waited eagerly for about 30 seconds until it flashed up "pregnant" and then waited with some relief until it informed us that we were 2-3 weeks along.

Later on came the daunting task of informing our loved ones and friends.  I had to wait to inform my family (as my Mum was on a plane to Abu Dhabi).  In the mean time Annie returned the favour to her sister (who confided in Annie first as soon as she found out that she was expecting), informed her mother and father who seemed genuinely excited and pleased for us, which is just what you want to hear.

When I received the text from my Mum saying that she had landed and I could call, I did.  I went through the typical manly protocol of making a bit of small talk before beating around the bush before procrastinating a little more.  Finally I made the announcement, unfortunately I think the shock, the stress of the job, some fatigue and of course some doubt meant a lukewarm reception.  I think as the news set in so did a bit of excitement.  I'm hoping that will show more and more.

Next I decided to speak with my Dad.  This time I plumped for significantly less dilly-dallying.  I'm not sure "you're going to be a Grandad" were the words my father expected to hear this evening.  As expected I didn't receive an over-enthused reception.  I'm well aware that both of my parents are a little doubtful over our age and the step we're taking.  While fully understanding, I think I'd regret it if I hadn't taken those risks before.  People think that 22 is too young to get married but it was by far the best decision I have ever made.

The final step was to call my Grandparents and drop the bomb on them.  This was the safe bet for a bit of excitement.  I was not disappointed; "you're going to be great-grandparents later this year" was greeted by "wow that's great news" from my Grandad, shortly followed by "that's t'riffic, t'riffic, well done".  My Aunt was there to provide some more congratulations which were lovely to hear.  My Nan was the next callee in the musical phone game.  Apparently she's now feeling younger as a result of the news and is very, very excited.  So much so that I was subject to an unexpected "he's got a bit of lead in his pencil" (that's not what you want to hear).

All in all it's been a good week, there was the Anfield Cat, 'Arry Redknapp took a huge step towards the England manager job and the hottest parents on the scene; Jay-Z and Beyonce, revealed pictures of their somewhat unusually named baby.  And now this, how could it get any better?

Introduction...

Hello, my name's Perry.

I have been with my partner, Annie, for 5 years now and married in July 2011, one of many big steps taken at a young age (we were 22 and 20 at the time). 6 months later, we have just found out that we are expecting our first child.

I wanted to create this blog to provide some insight into the feelings and experiences of a young man going through pregnancy with his partner, so I hope that it will provide a somewhat different viewpoint.