Lobstertrician Bisque

As we speak, young punkling, your mother is at another appointment with Dr Pete. We're hoping that today we'll get a better idea of when you're likely to arrive, but prior to hearing what's the outcome of this, I have no news for you.

I know that my posts of late have all revolved around this concept, of feeling like I don't have anything new to share, that everything is on hold waiting for you, but it's really feeling like it's true.

Sometimes in your life, the natural inertia caused through forward momentum seems to fade away slightly, and you begin to cast about for an external event to provide a push start again. Starting a new job only literal weeks ago worked to assist me in that regard, but with the realisation that your birth is now likely to be in a matter of days rather than weeks or months, I'm feeling distinctly like I'm running on the spot just waiting for you to get here.

It's odd. Your mum and I talked a lot about getting pregnant before we had you, even before we really started trying to get pregnant. We were both absolutely sure that creating you was the step we wanted to take. Now that your arrival is more imminent than I ever thought possible, the reality of what we have done is beginning to sink home.

With an increasing physical presence in our lives, chiefly at this time a result of your encroaching belongings, but all too soon to be a result of your actual arrival, is impacting on how I think and how I feel. I'm wondering if I've done the right thing, if I'm ready to take on this responsibility.

The answer, of course, is that I don't have any choice. That your birth is a predestined event, and that my self confidence crisis needs to be subjugated for the duration. That my worries about being the best father have to be put to one side so that I can concentrate on being a father and husbang. That your immediate physical needs are far more important than my long term emotional needs, and that I will in all likelihood come to discover that being a good parent is more a matter of consistency and communication than anything else.

Just bear with me, will you?


Love you.

Update:
The update, punkin, is that there's no update. Pete says that you haven't moved from where you were at this time last week, and that it's still anyone's guess when you're going to get here. Somewhere in my mind, everytime your mum goes to visit Pete, is the idea that she's going to call me an hour later and say that she's already at the hospital and I should hurry up and get there.... No such luck.

Love you.