Telling the Parents (Part 2)

I mentioned in my previous post tears and cuddles seem to be a feature of my new life… here’s a fresh example

Telling my parents

My family is still in Florida, but we decide to call them to give them the news. I figure it evens the news-breaking score between our families.

The conversation is short and meanders through Floridian weather and touristy talk before I hit them with the big news.

I tell them how happy we are and put down the phone.

I turn to Holly who is in tears. Thinking they are tears of joy I try and give her a hug. These aren’t tears of joy. These are tears of disappointment. I didn’t sound happy enough.

What’s a guy to do?

Telling the Parents (Part 1)

Just a few days in to the idea of fatherhood and I’m beginning to notice a pattern of tears and cuddles. Today was no different…

Holly and I spent a few moments discussing when/how we should tell our parents. At this point in time our families are in the USA. Holly’s at home in Texas. Mine are holidaying in Florida. We concluded it would be best to wait until we had the confirmation from our GP after the weekend as (i) we would have more certainty that Holly was pregnant (ii) this would give my wife’s family a chance to buy a webcam so we could see their reaction. (n.b. my wife is a smiley person hence facial expressions, smiles in particular, are important to her.)

Distracted by sport on the TV Holly takes the opportunity to call the grown-ups so I jump on the second line knowing our discussion was meaningless and learning you cannot reason with a pregnant woman. After a few hours of dialogue Holly takes a potty break and instructs me to email her dad a photo of a one of our magic sticks. You may think this a simple task until Holly (my now photo editor) decides the blue line isn’t dark enough on my choice so a half-hour photo shoot begins. Once chosen and sent the phone-call is resumed.

The news is broken and Holly is smiling. She talks to her parents about baby things. She hears of her own birth, of 19 hours in labour and misplaced epidurals. They swap grandparent names like Mema and Granny. My attention is drawn back to the game while my auditeur actif skills are put into autopilot.


a big thankyou to granparents.net for allowing me to link to their site

Day Zero

So my wife sits me down so I’m guessing she needs a hug. She smiles at me and holds my hand and I know my life is never going to be the same again. She’s been a little more emotional than usual over the last few days so I wasn’t too surprised by the tears. I still have to ask the question though as she hasn’t said anything yet:

“What’s up, honey?...
What’s wrong, baby?...
Are you okay?...
Do you need to talk to me?”

I need her to tell me, but all the time my belly is turning with butterflies and I don’t know if I’m scared or excited.

She pulls out about 300 pregnancy tests from under a cloth and I realise women ponder these moments more than any male could imagine. Clearblue , tears, smiles, sitting down… she’s not saying anything so I have to ask. How can I ask without using the “P” word?

“You’re not?… Are you…?”

Tears are in her eyes. A big, but nervous smile grows as I throw my arms around her.

We hug. We kiss.

I sit quietly screaming “crap, crap, crap” inside. I’m thrilled, but definitely scared. There’re so many things to think about. Finances, food, telling my friends and family, but mostly I have this overwhelming desire to take care of my wife, Holly like I have never done before.

I look at her and she appears more beautiful than I can ever remember.