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

The gist of the initial post was that “my OH doesn’t understand what I’m going through,” and then there was a general consensus that when it comes to pregnancy men are rubbish most of the time.

On what is basically a female-only website, the posters were so candid talking about the men in their lives I felt like I was reading the private diary of womankind. It was quite an insight.

Before our pregnancy I’d have challenged anyone who suggested I would dote on my child any less than my wife.

But 19 weeks in I now appreciate why there’s nothing quite like a mother’s love.

It was actually a beautiful moment that made me come around to this view.

Unable to carry out simple tasks without feeling sick because of her labyrinthitis, my wife has been staying with her parents during the week while I’m at work.

Our baby chose this moment of separation to make him or herself known to us, with my wife feeling a kick for the first time.

At least she thought it was a kick. It may have been wind, she wasn’t entirely sure.

The following evening she had conclusive proof and happily for her parents it wasn’t of the latter.

Our unborn child put on a show as magical to us as the Northern Lights, kicking close to the front of my wife’s tummy so that you could see her skin move. She filmed it on her mobile and sent me the footage and as I watched the little bumps appear in her belly I contemplated how incredible it must be to feel life growing inside you.

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But that’s all I can do – wonder about it.

As a man, I’m never going to have that feeling. That is unless the science that brought us the 1994 Arnold Schwarzenegger film Junior is proven to be sound and men really can have a baby.

Until such time, I’m left quoting the words from the final scene of another Arnie film in the ‘90s, Terminator 2. “I know now why you cry, but it’s something I can never do.”

I’m not quite an emotionless robot but I’ll never know what it’s like to carry a child. And that’s why an OH can never truly understand. I have a better understanding of that now.

It was during this time that I met an old mate on the train to work.

He’s very similar to me, having lived most of his 20s and early 30s looking after number one and feeding his obsession with sport.

Now he’s turned 40, married to someone ten years younger and on the brink of becoming a first time dad. It’s an adjustment we’ve made together.

Whenever we’ve met on the train previously the topic of conversation has never roamed beyond sport.

But sat together for an hour on the 7.58 we spoke about paternity leave, how much we admired our wives for clearing up their own sick and the iCandy Peach 3 (if you’re a man in your 20s or early 30s who hasn’t had a child yet, it’s a pram).

He also talked about gender disappointment.

This was something I never thought was a real thing until I read about it on the babycentre message board (it really is a hive of information for a man if you want to be less rubbish).

My mate had set his heart on having a boy so, in his eyes, he could have someone to share his obsession for sport with.

At the 20 week scan he was told he was having a girl. He admitted to me he went home and cried and was “down for days.”

Now at the risk of sounding like an emotionless robot, I didn’t know why he was crying and it’s not something I’ll ever do.

Whether “Junior” is a boy or girl worries me not. I can see the benefit of both. If it’s a boy I can take him to watch sport with me. If it’s a girl I won’t have to feel guilty about leaving my wife on her own any more when I go off to watch sport.

(I know that pregnant women can be a bit tetchy – that’s something I didn’t have to read on a message board, I know that first-hand! – so I should point out to any reading this, that last paragraph is meant as a joke).

Seriously, I can understand it if you have two or three of the same sex already but disappointment at Junior’s gender hasn’t even occurred to me as a first time dad. In fact, we’ve agreed not to find out the sex at our 20-week scan. A healthy baby is as much as I think I can ask for at my age.

The way it’s kicking, though, I think it’s going to be a footballer – but whether it follows in the footsteps of David Beckham or Lucy Bronze, I’ll be cheering either way.