So over the next three decades quite a lot happened in my life until I reached now. And now, and the few months up until now, there has been a huge shift in the axis of normality in my life. Pregnancy.
It's quite modern to call it "our" pregnancy, but in reality, when push comes to shove (quite literally) the pregnancy is the woman's domain and I will dishonour my other half if I try to steal any credit. She has been doing all the carrying, suffering and the incubating and she has done the most fantastic job in the world and I am in awe of her and incredibly proud.
What we have shared together though are the doctor and hospital visits and the amazing help offered by the NHS. I have always thought that the NHS did a really good job without ever actually being dazzled by it. However, as soon as the baby was due and we notified our doctor we were both suddenly whisked on to the conveyer belt of a very well oiled machine.
I cant tell you enough just how good the Nat Health Service has been for us since we found out we were expecting. Neither of us knew what would happen when we were expecting, as don't most first time parents, indeed one of the first things you ask yourself is What happens next? But these thoughts soon disappeared from the moment we first visited our midwife. She told us all the info we needed to know, she mapped out the pregnancy and she booked us in for all the crucial stages.
Everyone gets the same service. First comes the twelve week scan, then the twenty week scan, then you get the thrill of hearing the baby's heart beat. Back and forth you go; your other half being constantly pushed, pressed and measured. Blood pressure and urine are checked to make sure that all is well and your worries are addressed on each new visit, the midwife becomes someone you can trust.
Then all of a sudden a Social Services representative turns up. Where did she come from? How did she know about us? It's all very strange, but it's all part of the fantastic NHS Service.
Then after what seems like an age, all being well, you have reached the stage when you start your antenatal classes. Again, this was all set up by our midwife and all we had to do was turn up. I may be an ignorant fool of a dad-to-be but I learnt so much from these lessons. From the fact that its pretty much just you, your partner and the midwife in the labour ward (where are all the doctors you see on TV) to how a baby turns in the uterus, what a Ventouse delivery is and that there is sooooo much to breast feeding - enough for us to discuss for 2 and half hours, apparently, as the midwife running the class said, its not just a case of putting the baby onto the nipple.
So having had all this wonderful service from the NHS we now find ourselves at home alone, the baby is due in a week and a few days ago we had our last antenatal lesson. As we left the class it suddenly hit me that we were not scheduled to get any more help from the NHS until my other half goes into labour, all of a sudden we were on our own. All at once I had one of those moments in my mind that you get in the horror movies when the corridor the camera is going along just gets longer and longer. I suddenly felt very alone. The support we had had all along was now no longer there.
So here we are, here I am. With trembling legs I walk forward and grip the handlebars; my nerves are jangling as I wriggle uncomfortably on the saddle to get positioned. I take a deep breath then tentatively push down on the pedal with one foot whilst lifting the other from the floor. I'm moving, its wobbly but I must do this. I must prove it to myself more than anyone. It's scary but I know I can do it, I've done it before. It's 36 years later, the situation is slightly different, but here we are again, the stabalisers are off and ahead of me is a new and very different world...
