The helpless blog of a first time dad: Dads avoid the F-word around their unborn child

On reaching 50 days to go this week a different sensation has swept over me.

Being a man, I’m not entirely comfortable burdening other people with my feelings but I have to admit I’m a little scared for what is about to happen.

Scared for my baby’s health, scared for my wife in child birth, scared that we won’t be able to cope afterwards; everything about how my life will be in seven weeks or so gives me a sense of unease.

And I know it’s because I’ve never cared for anyone or anything as much as I care for my unborn child right now – and that scares me how I’d feel if something went wrong.

When I was a teenager I always thought I’d have children one day but the older I got the less I yearned for it.

I lived on my own from my early 20s and within financial reason I could go anywhere I wanted and do anything I liked. Selfishly, I came to enjoy my life that way.

I never really committed to relationships to the point where I thought I was with someone I couldn’t live without.

The most heartbroken I’ve been is when a fiancee left me six months before our wedding and drove off in the car which I’d bought her the year before. It was a lovely little runner and really economical on fuel.

But the reason children dimmed in me as a desire wasn’t necessarily because I was selfish or I’d have to change my ways to have one. It was because even then I was a little scared about caring for someone to such an extent that I’d want to.

Then I met Hannah and those barriers I’d built up have gradually been overcome.

She moved in with me after three years together and I came to realise I could live without watching every game of football broadcast on Sky.

We got married three years later when I came to appreciate how much it would mean to Hannah to show her I wanted to be with her forever rather than just think it in my head.

Marriage has given us a much deeper connection (as well as giving me a bit of extra time in control of the TV remote because my wife isn’t interested in watching countless episodes of Don’t Tell the Bride anymore).

As her other favourite programme is One Born Every Minute trying for a child always seemed the next logical step – and not just because having one of her own would free up even more time on the Sky Planner.

But throughout the process of trying, and even the first few months after falling, one barrier remained.

I told myself if it happens, great, and if it doesn’t, there’s always an exotic foreign country to discover or a major sporting event I can attend that I wouldn’t be able to if all my money was going on nappies and baby skin care products (in preparation we’ve bought seven different bottles for seven different uses. How can this be necessary?)

And now the wish is seven weeks away from being fulfilled, that first cuddle seems so close and I can’t pretend not to care anymore.

Every day when I come home from work now I ask my wife if “Junior” has been up to much.

She thinks I’m just showing her I’m taking an interest in the pregnancy or trying to make conversation but it’s my way of seeking reassurance that everything is fine and without trying to show I’m worried that it’s not.

When you’re not carrying the child, not feeling the kicks or the turns, you need to be told it’s happening to put your mind at rest.

We started our NCT classes this week and that only added to my anxiety.

Ironically, they’re designed to put your mind at rest but knowledge can be counter-productive sometimes. Obviously the vast majority of births go right but there does seem to be an awful lot that can go wrong.

A German general once said that “No battle plan ever survived first contact with the enemy,” and from all that I’m reading and being told the same seems to be true of your birthing plan and going into labour. That doesn’t feel you the upmost confidence.

There is also the point that Hannah is so happy at the moment, well as happy as someone can be who can’t sleep, can’t control some of her bodily functions, can’t wear shoes with laces, and can’t find anything that fits her in her wardrobe anymore. And I have a dread fear of that smile being tinged with sadness for some reason.

When I started this blog back on the South China Sea in September one of my aims was to show women what their partners/husbands were feeling at certain times.

But I don’t know if this sudden surge of trepidation seven weeks out is normal for dads-to-be or whether it’s just me.

I had the chance to find out. At our first NCT class the mums and dads were split up and given a task sheet to go through. The women were asked what fears they had for the future and wrote down 57 things that bothered them and were then asked to rank them in order of importance.

The men were asked to discuss their feelings on finding out their wife was pregnant, changes they had observed in her behaviour and their own fears for the future.

As the first question on the sheet mentioned the word “feelings” we decided that was a bit heavy to be talking about with five blokes you’d only just met, put the task sheet to one side and talked about football instead.

So I don’t know if other dads feel the same fears as me. But I do know we’d all love to see Leicester win the league.

The helpless blog of a first time dad: Hasta La Vista, baby – whatever gender you may be