Alternatively titled “So you’ve accidentally got pregnant – now what??”
Be ready for some self righteous, pompous and downright twatty advice from a self titled, worn the t-shirt/been there done that guy with all the answers to all your stupid problems. Problems that your hippie parents should have prevented from ever happening but couldn’t due to being nearly always high, making daisy chains, smoking grass (maaaan) and wearing Hessian.
So you’re pregnant. Congratulations. I mean well done. That was hard wasn’t it. It’s always seemed like a strange thing to say to someone, congratulations. Basically saying “been doing loads of shagging and finally worked out he’s not firing blanks and her eggs aren’t too stale?”
It’ll all seem rather exciting at first. A new stage in life. New chapter. All those arguments about whether to have your Bluray collection in alphabetical or chronological order when first moving in together a vague memory. How pissed off she was when she discovered how often you left toe nail clippings in the bath and back hair blocking the sink. “You never flush the toilet after yourself!” Time to let all that go. That office/man cave you always wanted overlooking the valley is already being renovated and moved around. A small but undetectable tear forms in your eye as you realise that for (a minimum of) eighteen years you’ve ruined your own life. In exchange for an orgasm.
First three months..
Ooh how excited you all are. Patting her belly.. “is it a boy/is it a girl?!” The bets will be on. Decorating the spare room in a neutral colour. “We don’t mind as long as it’s healthy!” Lies the dad who always wanted a boy. Telling all your friends (the ones that will disappear when you stop having free time to spend with them and start asking for babysitters of a weekend).
Let’s not forget that you still have your life whilst in the early stages of pregnancy. No wine though. Or smoking. Or bad food etc. Basically all the fun things..
2nd three months..
The excitement is still flowing! Make sure to tell everyone you meet that you’re both having a baby. You’re literally the first couple ever to experience pregnancy and your whole social circle will be desperate to hear about every twinge, vomiting episode and (slightly) interrupted sleep. Circulate all this bi-hourly on as many social media sites that you can get your hands on.
Be sure to have one of those freaky 3D scans that you don’t need and comment on how he or she has your Uncle Frank’s nose and dad’s ears. Hold on to the threads of your social life as it slowly evaporates over the coming months.
The final third furlong
Well at least the vomiting has stopped. Those ankle swellings and dizziness have passed. The kid is already causing you problems by moving around and kicking you in the ribs. Not to worry though, the painful end product is upon you soon. That moment you’ve been waiting for where your beautiful offspring is ejected into the world. Your genes finally passed on.
Ooh the day has arrived. Time for that wonder and blessing to be replaced by abject panic as you realise you ain’t prepared for looking after a baby. You remember that time when you looked after a neighbour’s dog for a few hours one afternoon two years ago and how tedious and annoying it was. Never mind having a shitting, whining non sleeping machine that you can’t give away. A machine that will be leeching you dry possibly in to his or her mid twenties as the property ladder is now just a step. An enormous step about three miles high and made of broken glass and grease.
My advice is to make sure you demand plenty of drugs. You want be as numb as possible after the baby arrives. Sleep is overrated and those cosy nights in with a bottle of wine (where you complained that you should be out) will be a hazy distant memory.