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So you’ve just found out that you’re going to be a dad. But what happens next? Accompany the novelist Rob Ryan on a life-changing journey from the first month to the big day via breasts, breathing and Braxton-Hicks.
So, by now the news has sunk in. Here’s hoping you managed that initial response better than me. I greeted the news of impending fatherhood first time round with a very sharp: "I need a drink".
I can’t tell you how many times those four words have been thrown back at me – no matter that I made it up the next time by overacting as if I was in a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta.
 Here’s hoping you managed that initial response better than me. I greeted the news of impending fatherhood first time round with a very sharp: "I need a drink". |
You only get one shot at many aspects of fatherhood (conception being the exception), so try and make sure you get as much right as possible.
Of course, nothing much happens for the first month or so. Perhaps a touch of sickness, but you’ll soon get over that: it’s only nerves.
Meanwhile your partner is a beautiful serene swan gliding around, with amazing changes churning away out of sight.
She may get some genuine nausea and the breasts will start tingling. By the end of the first full month they will also be noticeably larger (and tender – careful now).
Starting out
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Hopefully, she'll take to the first three months of pregnancy with the passion of a Taliban cleric. |
Hopefully, she'll take to the first three months of pregnancy (or 'first trimester') with the passion of a Taliban cleric. No alcohol, no cigarettes, no medicines, no caffeine. Stay cool. And ditch the fags, too.
At six weeks the embryo officially becomes a foetus. Rather than a tickertape parade, this is often marked with more nausea to the point of vomiting and the need to pee frequently as the internal furniture is rearranged.
Hormones are starting to surge at up to four times normal levels, leading to bursts of irritability, emotion, teenage-type spots, irrationality and strange dietary cravings.
Deduct points if you just thought: so why is that different from normal?
Also, the third month is the Floppy Month, apparently - generally marked by a lack of energy and light-headedness. So expect lots of ‘no's’ to whatever you suggest, from the cinema to sex.
Most MTBs (mothers to be) see their GP around week seven or eight and they run through local provisions (such as registering with a midwife) and options for the birth (home, maternity ward, birthing suite), as well as arranging the first scan at the hospital, which will be somewhere between 10 and 12 weeks into the pregnancy.
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don’t look at the grainy image and say "What? That thing?" It’s a very important moment and, to be honest, the chances are you’ll be stunned at the sight of the beating heart and also terrified at the fragility of life at this stage. Rob Ryan
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Bumpy road
You are now moving into the second trimester, the sunny, bright uplands of pregnancy. This is the time when
- the bump shows properly, so people no longer think she has been at the Krispy Kremes
- then (drum roll, please): Week 15 -The Return of The Libido (hopefully)
- the initial tiredness had abated
- increased blood volume means no more dizziness
- the bump is not the hindrance it will become
- the Breast Fairy has done its job
This lasts for around 10 to 12 weeks. Enjoy.
At some point you will probably enrol in an antenatal course, run by the National Childbirth Trust or the local authority.
We did the NCT, which is great for providing support and running through what is to come, although be aware that each group seems to be assigned a quota of one couple determined to eat their placenta.
And, yes, they do all that lying on floor and breathing stuff, and, yes, you will feel silly. But it’s just like hyperventilating when it goes to penalties in the final.
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By the seventh month, the last trimester, things start to gear up for the actual birth.
Sleeping with an expanded belly becomes difficult, so you should lay off the lager: imagine what it’s like for the missus, who will also find she has to pee every time she lies down.
Hands and feet swell and it’s back to being tired in spades (although on a personal note, the libido didn’t diminish; my wife took to calling me Ishmael).
As the baby grows and gets ready for departure it presses against the diaphragm, causing shortage of breath. This is the time of bad backs, including that classic pregnancy pose of gripping the rear of the pelvis.
There are also these weird ripples with the baby actually appearing to try and poke through (that’s ripples, not Ripley, although she may spring to mind) and increased incidents of Braxton-Hicks contractions as well, which is just the muscles limbering up for the big day.
Final destination
When it does happen, you will already have a smooth, military-style plan in place, which you will promptly forget.
Do not panic. There is usually plenty of warning for first babies and time to either start filling the water pool or get to hospital without burning rubber.
Labour can be a lengthy process – we clocked up 20 hours – involving what seems (even to you) an uncomfortable amount of pain and what seems to her like bloody agony.
You will have discussed where you stand on pain relief versus natural birth. Many women start out in body-is-temple mode and end up yelling for drugs and 18-inch needles NOW.
The important thing is to realise there is no "right" way to do it, no matter what your antenatal classes told you: everyone is different.
This is the part of the journey where you could feel like a useless twit. You are a hand to hold and, at times, break, as your fingers are mashed together. There is no way to describe, though, the feeling when the little blighter breaks through and is pulled/pushed into the world.
Just savour that moment, because it will put all the drugs, legal or otherwise, you have ever taken in the shade.
Sleepless nights, the messy mechanics of breastfeeding and a landfill of nappies lie ahead, but if you can just hold on to those first few minutes of a life you are partly responsible for, it’ll be plainer sailing.
Author
Rob Ryan was born in Liverpool. He has written for The Face, Arena, Conde Nast Traveller, Esquire, GQ Magazine and The Sunday Times. He lives in North London with his wife and three children.
Your experiences
What are your experiences through the journey of pregnancy? Got some info to add for other dads? Use the comments system below.
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