So this week is the last week of this blog.
Probably not for ever, but it could be.
That might mean nothing to you [other than sheer, utter, relief], but to me it’s a big, big thing.
You see in the almost 9 years of writing this rubbish, it has given me a lot of stuff.
Not just an endless stream of headaches and insults … but also a bunch of new and clever friends … a load of interesting opinions and thoughts and even the occasional moment of delusional brilliance.
Not bad for something I started to simply give me 2 minutes a day to think about stuff that didn’t involve all the usual advertising bollocks you get caught up in.
But now, 9 years later, it might be time to hang up the keyboard.
Emphasis on ‘might’.
I should point out this is not because I’ve run out of things to say – because let’s be honest, I’ve been repeating the same 6 subjects for at least 7 years – but because in a couple of weeks, my son will be born.
Holy Fuck.
To be honest, I don’t know whether I’m ready.
And I certainly don’t know what to expect.
In some ways, I’ve only just come to terms with the fact it’s happening.
No, I’m being serious.
It was only when we actually created his bedroom did it start to sink in.
Before that, I could have easily conned myself into thinking my wife had simply been eating a lot of her amazing cakes.
But she hasn’t, she’s going to be delivering our first child.
Our son.
When I think about it, I become unbelievably emotional.
I was recently on a flight and a documentary called, ‘The Secret Life Of Children’ came on.
Within 2 minutes, I was sobbing.
Not out of fear [I think], but emotion … because despite knowing where babies come from for quite a long time now [allegedly!], only now do I really appreciate how amazing it all is.
Which has led to me facing a whole host of conflicting emotions and questions.
Will I be a good father?
Will I do the right thing?
Will I teach him what is important?
Just how messy will he make my/our obsessively tidy house?
It’s all a total head-fuck to be honest and that’s before I even think about the pressure of finalising a name for the little sod.
But what’s also interesting is what hasn’t really crossed my mind.
I never doubted Jill would be an amazing mother.
I’ve known that since the moment I met her.
But since we found out on April 1st, this fact has been reiterated to me every single day.
Quite frankly, I’m in awe of how she has handled this pregnancy.
Graceful. Calm. Radiant. Beautiful.
She has helped me understand what it really means when people say pregnant women ‘blossom’.
In the past, I used to think it was a euphemism for ‘get big’ … but it isn’t.
It’s not even a polite way of saying that their cheeks are flushed due to the increase in body temperature.
No, it’s more than that … it’s a change in how they are.
You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you feel it is the final stage of their evolution … where the birth of a child makes them ‘whole’.
It’s weird, I can’t quite explain it but I do know that ‘blossom’ is the most perfect word to describe how they are.
The other thing that hasn’t really crossed my mind is his ‘health’.
Maybe I’m utterly stupid, but I am utterly confident he will be a healthy, bouncing, baby boy.
And yet I know scans can’t identify everything.
And I’ve seen friends go through terrible situations with their children.
But for some reason it has not crossed my mind.
Not once.
It could be because I don’t want to think about it.
It could be that having seen the pain that Andy and his wife went through with Bonnie [which thankfully all turned out well], I don’t want to invite any negativity in my head.
But I haven’t given it a second thought.
As I said, maybe that’s stupid.
Maybe I’m setting myself up for trouble in the future … but while I have given ample consideration to the legacy I want to give my son, I have not given any practical consideration to the state of his health.
With all the madness that has surrounded me – and us – with the impending birth of our first child, one thing has been a constant beacon of joy to me.
My Mum.
Seeing and hearing the excitement in her face and voice about her first grandchild has been wonderful.
To be honest, if I’d seen how happy it would make her, I’d of done it years ago.
But she never placed pressure on me to do it. She knew it was something we needed to decide, not something others could try and dictate.
And for that I thank her. Again.
So as we enter this final week, I apologise in advance for the sentimental tone of the subsequent 4 days of posts.
As I said, maybe this blog will continue at some point in the future – possibly with copious amounts of pictures of my little boy with statements about “how advanced he is for his age” – but if it doesn’t, I want to say thank you to all of you for absolutely everything.
Even the insults.
It’s been a pleasure.