As far back as January, when we learned it would be three of us opening up our stockings on Christmas morning this year, we knew that the festive season would be extra special this time around. As I have found with a great many things since Thea arrived, those traditions that you’re so used to experiencing the same way, year in year out, suddenly take on a whole new significance when you have a little one in tow. I’ve never really been one to have to have the biggest pile of presents under the tree to be happy, but this year I even managed to forget that I had any to open, I was that wrapped up in watching Thea receive gift after generous gift from friends and family. Albeit oblivious to the procession of prezzies and swelling of our usual collection of cards from around the world, she certainly enjoyed the toys once they were out of their packages, and looks simply adorable in all the cute clothes that she was given.

Of course occasions such as Christmas tend to spawn a plethora of themed clothing for both adults and kids alike, and there was no way we were going to miss the opportunity to get some embarrassment ammunition for future events such as 16th birthday parties, or when her first boyfriend comes to meet the parents. There was the Santa’s Little Helper costume (click here for previous post), a podgy Christmas pudding top, and some cute Fair Isle leggings, but my favourite has to be the mini Santa outfit which we used as the picture for our first Xmas message to friends and family.


I think we have had more visitors this year than ever before, although I um under no illusion that they were coming to see us! Both Gem and I are so grateful for all the love and support that we have received this year. From the moment we announced we were expecting, our friends and family have been nothing short of amazing and if you are one of them, and are reading this, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We have got quite a lot going on in our lives right now, both good and not so good, but times like these help you put things into perspective and realise how lucky you are. Seeing my Dad bounce my little girl on his knee and the sheer, uncomplicated, unadulterated joy on both their faces is something I’ll always remember.


Even though we’ve all been struck down with miserable colds over the last week, the mood in the house has remained cheerful throughout – the fun starting at 8am on Christmas morning when Thea finally woke from her slumber and joined the party with a Xmas selfie…


There were six of us around the table for Christmas dinner while Thea caught up on some well-earned sleep, and over the following few days we managed to see lots of family and friends. I’ve always had a relatively small amount of family members near at Christmas time but that has changed since being with Gem, and I thoroughly enjoyed a Christmas with a real family feel to it. I think this year will always have a special place in our hearts as our first Christmas as a three, and I know I will remember it for many years to come.




Wow! Where have the last 8 weeks gone? It seems like only a few days ago that we were bringing Thea back from the hospital and standing in the doorway of our lounge, staring at each other with a look of “what the hell do we do now?” slapped right across our faces. Since then it has been quite a journey, with new experiences coming thick and fast, every one of them opening my eyes just a little more to what it means to be a parent. This morning Thea and I spent our first morning alone together as Gem headed off to terrorise the highways and byways of Wiltshire in a driving lesson. Originally I had planned this post to be just about this experience – the first time in 38 years that I had been solely responsible for someone so small and dependant. I guess I had built it up in my head as being something that would be traumatic rather than enjoyable, but the reality of it was that I loved sharing those two hours with the little one we’ve come to affectionately refer to as Chunk. It is genuinely amazing how she can raise my spirits, even at the lowest of lows.

When Gem returned, with both her and the driving instructor unscathed, we decided to bring a little Christmas cheer to the house and set off for Allington Farm Shop to get our tree. Normally we have an artificial one which is great, but for Thea’s first festive season we decided the real deal was the way to go. After successfully conquering the logistics of transporting 2 adults, 1 baby in a car seat, 2 bags of shopping, a buggy and a 7 ft spruce in a T reg Golf, it was time to decorate.

To be fair, I left it to the experts and Thea enjoyed watching Mummy illuminate the spiky branches, totally mesmerised by the flashing lights. After the peppermint candy canes had been hung and the final bauble was gently swinging away, came the moment we’d been waiting for as I “helped” Thea place her first ever decoration – the star on the top of the tree that will now be our little tradition every year.

Gem has done an amazing job of making it Christmassy in here – bunting, baubles, wreath, pine cones and scented candles are all all serving as a welcome distraction. It really does feel festive, albeit only 4 days into December.

Xmas tree

xmas table

So now we begin the countdown. It’s strange, it has been a long time since Christmas seemed this important to me. The last few years have been different – since Gem and I got together it has definitely taken on more significance, but this year even more so. I’m looking forward to the 25th, and I can’t pretend that a large part of it isn’t down to being able to see Thea wear this again…


Those of you who have experienced life with a newborn will already know this, but for those that haven’t, your little angel will spend the vast majority of their time doing one of four things. Sleeping, eating, pooing….. and crying. Not necessarily in this order, and not necessarily one at a time, these four pillars of baby behaviour will soon dominate your daily routine. As you become more familiar with each different type of wail, shriek, whine and scream, you’ll soon start to figure out what they need and how to temporarily return the room to the serene haven it used to be before this little bundle of joy (and noise) entered your life.

Sometimes, however there just doesn’t seem to be a logical reason for their raucous complaining. When they’ve been fed to the brim, their peachy bottom is clean as a whistle and even the snuggliest of cuddles won’t cut it, what do you do? It was in this exact predicament that we found ourselves the other night – 3am to be precise. Whilst my initial reaction was to pull out a few remaining strands of greying hair, Gem took a more proactive approach and Googled some things to do with baby relaxation. She came across a video on YouTube for which I will be forever thankful… as may you. Since that night we’ve used it several times, and I would be lying if I said it worked every single time but a success rate of about 85% would be fairly accurate.

Describing what it is and how it works probably wouldn’t do it justice, so I recorded the effect it had on Thea to share with you all. The link to the video is below. Please give it a try and let me know in the comments how you get on…

You can find the video here… Newborn Sensory Stimulation video on YouTube

As adults we tend to experience new things for the first time with less and less frequency as the years advance. Certainly for me a lot of those groundbreaking rites of passage are distant, hazy memories, locked away somewhere in the cobwebbed recesses of my brain. My first holiday, my first love, the first time I got drunk, the first time I lost someone. The finite details of these incredibly significant life events may well be softer around the edges with every passing year, tucked away under skin and bone and a rapidly greying mop of spiky hair, but the feelings they created are still as sharp as ever.

This coming Sunday will mark 2 weeks since little Thea entered, and in doing so, completely changed, our lives. From the moment she arrived she has been giving me so many brand new experiences that have taken their place at the forefront of this ever-expanding bank of recollections. As a new parent it is tempting to document every little thing that your baby does, and indeed we will almost certainly continue to do just that for the rest of her life, but I just wanted to reflect on a few things that stand out from the last couple of weeks.

I guess what strikes me the most is the incredible contrast of emotions that such a minute little person can evoke. The first time she smiled just floored me. Now some people will say it was wind, some argue that actually there is no defined reason why they smile at such a young age. The fact is I couldn’t care less. The way her little face lit up just took my breath away and as I stood there alone in the soft evening light, cradling her in my arms, I just couldn’t stifle my own grin and quietly chuckled away, waiting for the next one.


But to say that every emotion she pulls out of me is positive would be untrue. As someone who has no experience with looking after little ones, no previous practice with siblings, I tend to worry a lot about whether whatever she is doing is normal, if she is ok. The other night I experienced a first that will stick in my mind just as strongly as the first smile and will surely be the first of many. Asleep in the swing, I was sitting next to her, every now and again stroking her hand and staring at her chest to make sure it was moving up and down, you know, like it should when you breathe! Every little movement she made was a reassuring sign that things were good, and that I could go back to watching the TV for another couple of minutes before the urge to check on her again became to much to resist. The next little prod I gave her garnered no response, nor did the next one a few seconds later. When the third one was met with the same reaction, my heart jumped into my throat and my mind raced to what might be happening and what I should do next. Seconds later of course it became obvious that everything was absolutely fine and she made a face as if to say “Oh for God’s sake man up and leave me alone!”, but I will never forget those 5 seconds of sheer terror as long as I live. I should point out that I am getting better at not worrying – at least I’m trying to! It’s every parent’s duty I suppose and a skill that must be learned.

The first cuddle, the first cry, the first hilarious fart followed closely by the very first nappy I’ve ever changed. The first time (of many) that I stared at her resting in Gem’s arms, both of them in their own little world. The first time I fed her, the first time she almost choked on her milk… the list goes on and on. From the delivery suite and back to our home, this past fortnight has been filled with the highest highs and also some of the most stressful moments I can remember. One first after another, the new experiences keep coming thick and fast.

The journey has begun, and long may it continue.





For the last 10 months, every one of Gem’s light-footed twilight attempts to get to the bathroom without waking me up had prompted the same, sleepy sounding question: “You ok babe?”. To which, the answer changed as little as the question: “Yeah, fine thanks”. So when, on Saturday morning at 1:30am my regular enquiry was met with an extended reply of “Yeah fine thanks. It’s just my waters breaking”, it took me a few seconds to process the fact that we were now firmly ensconced in the final furlong.

Rather than relay every minor detail of the 26 hours from this point until our little one finally appeared I want to share some of the things that were going through my head and try to convey the bizarre combination of absolute elation and sheer terror that oscillated constantly throughout the day and into the early hours.

Screeching tyres, a screaming fiancée, speed camera flash bulbs popping in the rear view. This was how I’d imagined the mercy dash to the hospital whenever I had contemplated how we would get to the delivery suite when the time finally came. In reality it was very different. The pain hadn’t fully kicked in at this point and we were able to calmly make our way into town, singing along to Never Forget by Take That (Gem is the fan I must add) as we successfully avoided all the what-ifs we had previously pondered – flat tyres, traffic jams, baby popping out in 10 minutes flat, etc.

Once we had arrived at the hospital and had been checked in, it wasn’t long until we were moved to our own room. Due to being 12 days overdue at this point the decision was taken that there wasn’t much point in sending us home although contractions were still relatively infrequent. (For those of you who end up going on or around your due date, be prepared for a lot of to and fro with your local hospital until things really start to get moving). This is when it really started to dawn on us that we were nearing the end of this stage of our journey. The sun was out and the serenity of the room had a calming effect on our fraying nerves.

View from our delivery room

We were advised to go for a wander to try to increase the amount of contractions and actually did this a couple of times over the next few hours as our stubborn baby was just too comfy and settled inside what we’d come to refer to as the “baby cave”. Upon returning to the suite, and after another exam, it was time for the next step and the all-important decision about pain relief. This, I might add was a welcome discussion for me, as seeing my beautiful girl in more pain than I had ever witnessed before was so mentally draining. I am under no illusion about the fact that us guys get an easier ride than the fairer sex when it comes to creating a family, but to discount the emotional anguish that this process puts us through is to do us a huge disservice. To have to sit there and watch the one you love endure so much without being able to do a single useful thing about it is frustrating, upsetting and soul-destroying.

From the start my opinion was set. I very much wanted Gem to go for the epidural but equally as strongly I wanted that to be her decision rather than mine. So, I walked the tightrope between outlining the benefits, and persuasion. Luckily she decided to go for it of her own accord. After the choice had been made, the midwife concurred that she would not have even considered doing an induced labour without an epidural (by induced in this instance I mean that Gem was going to be put on a hormone drip to speed up the contractions due to baby being so overdue. This makes the process a lot quicker but the down side is that because the contractions come on a lot faster it is a lot more painful).

If you describe the process of inserting an epidural and explain exactly what it is, it sounds horrendous – like something out of a Saw movie. Hopefully it will allay a few fears to learn that it seemed to be a relatively painless process. As with most of the things Gem had to go through that night it was the fear of the unknown that was harder to deal with. Having no frame of reference in which to quantify the impending pain makes it all the more nerve-wracking.

So by this point my lovely lady was hooked up to what seemed like a hundred different wires, tubes and machines (in reality it was the canula to administer fluids and hormones, the epidural, monitors for heart rate for mum and baby, pulse and blood pressure), yet she still appeared as radiant as ever.


The next few hours were spent flitting between periods of calm reflection and moments of heightened anxiety as my eyes became firmly fixed on the heart rate monitor, willing it with all my might to stay in the safe zone. I would strongly recommend not doing this. Let the midwives worry about the ever changing numbers. It is what they are there to do – and they do it so amazingly well. With every small decrease in heart rate my own pulse responded doubly in the opposite direction and the anxiety and frustration of not being able to effect a change began to grow.


Baby’s heart rate – yellow / Gem’s pulse – blue (bottom right) / Contraction pressure – green

After several hours of the hormone drip doing its work, we heard the magical words “Your cervix has gone”. Translation: it’s showtime. In actuality we were given a little time to let things progress naturally, but after about 45 minutes came the instruction we had been waiting to hear. It was time to start pushing. Due to the epidural it is a lot more difficult to know when to push as the intense sensations of contractions have been drastically lessened for obvious reasons. So now the green number in the top right became the focus of my gaze. This measures contraction pressure so each time one is coming the number rises rapidly.

The last hour before our little one finally arrived was was also very different to what I had expected. There was no screaming, no profane language directed my way and the skin on the back of my hands remained unpunctured by the desperate clutches of my good lady. As is the Dad’s duty, I combined my brow-mopping and cheek-stroking with a masterclass in stating the obvious… “Push babe…. keep going…. breathe….”. Gem did exactly that for the next hour or more without fuss or complaint and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

It was then that I almost slipped into panic mode. Baby’s heart rate had been dipping a little too frequently and what seemed like suddenly there was more than just our designated midwife in the room. The terms “doctor”, “consultant”, “second opinion”, and “concerned” were banded about. The last of which really challenged me to keep up that calm, collected exterior – a show I had been putting on for hours for Gem’s benefit. The room was getting busy.

The doctor was firm but kind with us and told Gem that she didn’t have any time for crying as if this baby didn’t come out soon we would be rushing down the corridor to theatre. That was a show which neither of us wanted tickets for. It took them mere moments to attach the Ventouse and after two more contractions our baby was finally with us. In all the excitement, we forgot for a few seconds that we didn’t know whether it was a boy or a girl, and after a quick glance I was able to share the amazing news with Gem that it was indeed Thea that had arrived.

She was briefly popped up onto Gem’s chest and after a quick check by the paediatrician to ensure everything was where it was supposed to be, she was placed in my arms. I spent the next 20 minutes just staring deep into her eyes, lost in amazement of what had just happened. But, it is when she is in Gem’s arms that I am truly blown away. Every parent will tell you that you just don’t understand the feelings and emotions that you get when you bring a baby into the world. I always thought I had a pretty good idea, but having seen it from both sides now I know they were right. Suddenly all those things that were “important” yesterday seem irrelevant. Your priorities shift on their axis in an instant. Natures instincts kick in without a second’s thought.



The whole experience of accompanying your partner through labour is so unique and no two journeys will follow the exact same path. What I can promise you though is that it will at times be the most incredibly euphoric experience of your life, combined with a stress and anxiety you will likely not endure elsewhere. There will certainly be moments where you tell yourself you’re never doing this again, that you couldn’t possibly cope with an encore. And you will keep vehemently repeating this over and over in your head… right up until your first cuddle. When that gentle breath grazes the side of your neck and their tiny little fingers clasp around yours, holding on for dear life, it will suddenly all seem worth it.

photo 3






Way back at that very first midwife appointment you are given that all-important figure, the number that you have in the back of your head for the next nine months, the end goal of the most important countdown timer you will likely ever have ticking – the due date. No matter how many people tell you that this is only a rough guideline and that only 5% of women actually give birth on this day, it is nigh on impossible not to see this as the finishing line, or rather the handing of the baton from bump to baby.

And so, the day arrives… and passes. As does the next day and the one after that, and another, and so on… Currently sitting at 9 days overdue, our little wriggler is really making us wait for the grand entrance.


We’ve almost reached saturation point with suggestions of what to do to encourage them to come out and meet us – everything from pineapple and raspberry leaf tea to the very thing that put them in there in the first place (always a joy to discuss sex with your fiancées relatives). Our phones are constantly alive with the sound of alerts from our excited friends and family who, bless them, seem to think letting them know we’ve become parents may slip our minds. For those of you nodding along to this I have a gift for you… add this to your shortcut menu and with one tap or click you can satisfy the enquiring hordes – You’re welcome.

The cot has been built, the nappies are stacked and the baby swing is standing stationary, waiting along with us to meet its new passenger. Sitting around the house, watching inane daytime TV makes the days feel like weeks so we decided to run the breaking-of-the-waters gauntlet and pay a visit to our favourite local pub, The Bathampton Mill. Our favourite seats right by the river were free and we sat down to soak up the serenity and while away a few peaceful hours.

bathampton mill

The combination of a sunny September afternoon and the soothing sounds of the flowing mill waters, along with a generous helping of frites smothered with a powerful aioli, was a welcome distraction from the ticking of the clock. This baby is going to come when it is good and ready and we would wait a lifetime if we had to. However, it’s hard not to get into that mindset of the kid in the week leading up to Christmas. This is going to be the best present of all.

I’m not what you might call handy about the house. I’ve never owned a toolbox, not once put up a set of shelves and the thought of DIY is normally enough to send me scurrying towards TV remote, grabbing a latté along the way. Having said all this, it was with a certain amount of relish that I grabbed a pair of pliers and a couple of screwdrivers from under the sink, and headed upstairs to the nursery to put our baby’s cot together.

Upon opening the box I was initially quite chuffed that Ikea had stuck with their smallest-number-of-bits-to-do-the-job ethos that had served me so well back when I first moved into my own place in Bath.


With an almost OCD-level of precision, I laid out the screws, washers, wooden dowels and other bits and bobs, stopping just short of putting a pencil behind my ear and wiping my brow.




I’ll be honest, it was actually very simple putting the whole thing together but there’s always that paranoia that if you put something in the wrong way round then you won’t be able to get it back out again! For any of you with a similar level of DIY skill to myself, this would be a good cot to go for. It feels really sturdy and also has an adjustable base so that it can double up as a bed when the little one gets a bit older. I’d even go so far as to say I was a little disappointed that there were no major challenges for me to overcome to get the job done. I’d had it in my head that building the cot was going to be one of those mini rites of passage on the way to fatherhood and I guess it did still feel a little like that, despite the ease of the task in hand. In the modern flat-pack era, where your entire collection of furniture can arrive in neatly stacked brown cardboard boxes should you so desire, it seems like cot building could fast become a dying art.


Although it wasn’t much of a test of my man skills (something which my future Father-In-Law takes great delight in amicably jibing me about), it felt great to have spent that half an hour or so putting one of the last pieces of the puzzle together for the baby’s first bedroom. They won’t get to use it for quite a while yet but its good to know that it is all there waiting for them when they arrive.

It was back in January of this year when my future got flipped upside down and I knew my life was going to change forever. (n.b. :  I did not get shipped out to Bel Air by my Aunt). There we were, sat around the coffee table in front of the TV, eating our dinner – just a regular evening like any other. As I devoured the mouthwatering morsels in front of me, some space began to clear on my plate. At this point it is worth mentioning that my fiancée had been acting a little strangely that evening, disappearing upstairs for a few minutes here and there, and wearing a cheeky look on her face. This in itself is not unusual, but deep inside I just knew that something was up…

Ok, so back to the meal. As I popped a particularly generous forkful of food into my grateful mouth, I spotted something strange on the plate. There were some black lines hiding underneath the broccoli and as I swept the veggies aside I felt that surge of adrenalin that perhaps only those who have experienced this may fully understand…

Yes, this was how I found out I WAS GOING TO BE A DAD! Amazingly, I managed to not choke on a carrot and just stared wide-eyed across the sofa to my better half, who was shaking, giggling and giddy with excitement, as was I. She had always said that when this moment happened she would find a novel way of telling me and that she did.

It had been a long road for us to get to this point. Not as long or as arduous as some we know, I might add, but a journey that had tested us nonetheless. Tested us and also brought us closer together and made us stronger.

We sat back on the sofa, held each other and began to wonder about what the next 9 months, and many more years to come, might have in store.