So.... It has been a while...

So…It’s been a while. It isn’t that I ran out of things to say, topics to write about, or events that have happened. I just kinda ran out of room in the day to get them down in written form. I guess I fell out of love of blogging. 

So, what’s new with me in the time since I’ve rarely posted? I’m now a happily married man, a father of three little boys, a owner of a family home with a garden in an area that I had always aspired to live in, working in a role where I feel valued and respected at a truly global giant of broadcasting.

We have pretty much completed Netflix, I’m back into playing my favourite football management game from my youth, and life has been good.

I have been happy with the cards that life has dealt me.

But what’s new in the world? Well that’s a whole other blog post.

For fourteen months life has been different than its ever been before. But in our family of five, it has been so much better than could have been expected. Spending time at home has brought us closer as a family, I have spent more time with my kids than I would have ever expected, and for that I will always be grateful. My favourite parts of my day are walking my eldest two boys to school and watching them run down the path when they come home.

I’m working from home full time, so I am around for mealtimes, bath times and bedtimes. Something my own father has spoken about being sad that he missed so often in his own career. I am missing interacting with other adults, but do not miss the commute or the type of people you encounter daily in a big city.

We have been lucky, no one that we love has been affected by COVID, and we are eternally thankful for that. But lockdown has brought about change in many relationships which were previously granite, which we will always be truly saddened for.

Personally, and as what tends to happy when we welcome a baby to the world, I put on weight. So since New Year’s Day, I have been determined to eat healthier, eat less, and move more. I have been running three times a week and was breaking PBs every time I ran. That was until I got too confident and ran a half marathon without really training for it. Yes, I’m glad I ticked it off of the bucket list, but gutted as I caused myself a hip injury, which now means I need to focus on recovery for 4-6 weeks opposed to running. That’s coincided with eating crap again, so the cycle continues. I have made a running account on insta and have enjoyed being part of the running community @notbadforafatdad

Fatherhood is easily the best part of my life, and the best job I’ve ever had. My boys are my world, and my eldest is now 6. He is in love with football which is pleasing me no end. Its just hard trying to convince him to support the same team that I do, when we have been so poor this year. Luckily, we have an International tournament this summer for him to obsess over.

I aim to get writing more often, so will endeavour to not leave it so long next time. Roll on summer! 

To the person reading this, thank you. I hope you are well, healthy, and that you and your loved ones have got through this awful last year or so. Hopefully we can see the light at the end of long dark tunnel. 

Preventing My Own...

It has been nearly one year since my last blog post. Not that I haven’t had things that could have been said, more that I haven’t had the impulse to actually say them in blog form. It has been a long rollercoaster ride of a year. Amazing highs, terrifying lows. Maybe if the mood takes me I will take the time to get it out. It will probably do me good.

But not today.

Today I felt compelled to post, in homage to the reason for writing my very first post. Suicide. My uncle’s suicide. My first two posts can be seen here. Forever In Our Hearts and The Permanent Solution where I talk about it in case you haven't read them before. 

For today is World Suicide Prevention Day. But two years on, has anything changed in me?

But how do you prevent something like this, when the pressures, pains, anxieties and depressions that we feel as humans is a prevalent today as it has ever been?

I don’t know if you can. But we live in an age where we are encouraged to be open and talk to eachother about our feelings and insecurities. We are told it is ok to not be ok. We are told that asking for help doesn’t make you less of a man.

Therefore my way of preventing suicide, has to be preventing my own.

Now before I go on, I am not suicidal. I am not a risk. I am in a good place. But I am aware to the triggers which can bring me down.

Depression has been something that has been part of my life since my teenage years. Not that I have ever admitted that to anyone until a couple of months back. What started off as insecurities and negative self-perception, soon led to hating my thoughts, and hating them in the true sense of the word.

As I have grown older I have struggled under the weight of life’s every day pressures, anxiety and money troubles have made me to see myself as a failure. A run of issues in my life brought me down, and my mind took me deeper down. And people noticed and asked questions. Scary thoughts had entered my mind. What would happen if this bus hits me at speed? Or if I trip in front of this tube train would it be painful? Would people in my life be better off without me? And it was once I thought that, I knew that in the words of the late 
Chester Bennington, “my thoughts can be a bad place to be”, and that I needed to do something about it. So I spoke to people. One I knew I would talk to, the other who I wouldn’t have expected to open up with. But as soon as I felt compassion, I knew I could release the dark mental build up.

My uncle Charlie died by suicide at 41years old. He took his own life, found in his car in 1993. I was ten years old when it happened, and for years accepted the line I had been told that he had died by a heart attack.

I was ten, and I can see why I was told that. Suicide is hard enough to comprehend as a 35year adult, so there was no way a ten year old me could have been expected to understand the truth and what suicide is.

The questions. The fucking questions. Why? Why? Why? What could we have done? What did you need? Why didn’t you reach out? Why didn’t you talk to us? Why are we left here without you and why didn’t you think about us when you made that decision?

Maybe you felt you would be burdening us with your issues. Perhaps you felt like you had got yourself into this mess and only you could get yourself out. It could be that you did reach out to someone. Maybe it was someone who broke your heart, and they didn’t give you what you needed. Perhaps you couldn’t talk about it. Possibly you were like me and struggle to take advice from others. Maybe you did think about us, despite our absence from your suicide letter.

I can only assume your depression was such a dark horrible fight that you couldn’t fight anymore. In a way, I hope it was a long struggle. As horrible as that sounds, I crave the knowledge to know it wasn’t just an off the cuff decision one stupid drunken night feeling sorry for yourself.

I want you to know that your decision comes into my mind far too often than I would like to admit. It comes into my mind every time a black cloud comes into my life.

I know first-hand how much death by suicide can fuck someone else up. Therefore I know I couldn’t ever put my loved ones through it. I have two little boys who need me, and I made them both a promise of love when they were born, that I would be here for them in every regard. They are my reason for being here. I will move the world to give them everything they need.

Last year, I went to a group for those bereaved by suicide. I learned that your circumstance was definitely an exception to the rule. You wrote a letter. There wasn’t any one in the group who had a letter. Apparently writing a letter usually makes people cease their attempt. Also, alcohol isn’t really a factor in most suicides. The drink must have made you braver that fateful evening.

I didn’t know the type of man you were. I didn’t know what you were passionate about. I didn’t know what you did for work. I didn’t know why you weren’t married or why you didn’t have kids like your three brothers did.

I knew you as the playful loving uncle, with Benny and Deano, two dogs that I loved. I knew the uncle who took me to the woods and encouraged my passion for nature and wildlife. The uncle who bought me a blue Fila watch which I thought was the business. The inappropriate uncle who bought me ‘Robocop’ on video tape for my 8^th or 9^th birthday. It was a brutal 18 rated film. You bought my sister ‘All Dogs Go to Heaven’. The uncle who took us to Chessington a few times. The uncle who I remember once looked after me one weekend, and when you asked if I wanted a burger for lunch, you literally served me a burger patty, with a splodge of ketchup to the side. I was expecting a bun, and I told my mum about it in shock. You were the uncle who took us horse-riding, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

Therefore, your suicide was enough to prevent mine. As I would not want those around me to feel what we felt when you died.

84 men a week in the UK take their lives every week in Britain. 12 per day. That’s nuts. That’s 84 families affected. 84 versions of the ten year old me, who lost their playmate, and who for 25years will think about that person every day. The recent display on top of the ITV buildings by CALM was a huge eye opener. A haunting image.

If you are feeling down, scared of yourself, scared of your thoughts or fucking down in the dumps. Talk. Talk to anyone. You haven’t got to know them, you just need to get it out. Cry. If you need to, fucking cry. Fucking scream if you have to. Don’t let things build to the point where there is only way out, bottle of whisky in hand, writing your final letter.

If you notice in someone that something doesn't seem right, ask them. Talk to them. Show them you care. It might just save their life. 

World Suicide Prevention Day is a global event held every year on September 10th. 

With CALM I am calling on everyone to #StandAgainstSuicide by signing this petition demanding government action ➡️ http://bit.ly/SuicidePetition2018

Help is out there if you are in a bad place. Please use it.

CALM, www.thecalmzone.net, 0800 585 858

Heads Together, www.headstogether.org.uk

Mind, www.mind.org.uk, 0300 123 3393

Samaritans, www.samaritans.org, 116 123

In The End...

Aside from a dislike of elevators, I’ve never been claustrophobic, but as I have gotten older there have been a few instances where I have been overcome with a hot panicky sweat at being trapped somewhere. As I stood in my hospital robes next to the huge MRI scanner, I knew I needed something to focus on during the impending thirty minutes or so that I would be in the confined space. The nurse handed me a sheet of paper with various musical offerings to listen to: Adele – no thanks, Classical Hits – not for me. It didn’t look good. However whilst looking at my options there was only one thing which grabbed my attention; Linkin Park Greatest Hits.

As I laid there in the scanner, the hot panic hit me within a matter of moments. Stuck in this machine, consumed with a anxiety of being trapped. Then, in my headphones came the sounds of Linkin Park. I had envisioned that the music and vocals would drown out the machine as it scanned by brain, but it wasn’t as loud as I was hoping. However, I was able to focus on the music and singing, such a beautiful voice and powerful screams, and I was able to remove myself from that scanner, and take myself back in my memories to seeing them perform live in Abu Dhabi, back in 2010. Soon the sweaty panic passed and before I knew it, about eight songs had played, and the scan had finished. Losing myself in Linkin Park had again got me through a shitty moment in time in my life, which had been on mind since the appointment was booked.

Two days later I learnt via Twitter, that Linkin Park lead singer, Chester Bennington had taken his own life. It hit me like a ton of bricks, another one taken too soon. This man had been a huge part of my life for over fifteen years. I had listened to his music all too regularly. On the train, in the car, on the street, in the gym, or more often than not, when i wasn't feeling too happy in myself.

Like many teenagers, I had a phase where I questioned my existence. I felt low, I felt depressed, I felt worthless. Consumed by anxiety, I had just changed schools, and felt ugly and I felt dumb. I would spend a lot of time alone, and basically felt very sorry for myself.

During a Napster session in 2000 (sorry but we all did it!), I downloaded ‘In The End’ based on how popular the file was. Having not listened to Metal music before I was prepared to delete the file after hearing only a few seconds like I had done with other downloaded songs, however based on the intro alone I knew I would like this particular track. As the song continued, I immediately liked Mike Shinoda’s rap style, and when the chorus came in I had goose pimples. Chester’s voice was like something I hadn’t known before. How could someone sing so beautifully and then let out a real rock element like that? I listened again, and again and again. With each listen I would try to listen carefully to the lyrics. The lyrics to ‘In The End’ served as a release to me. I was able to sing and rap along to the song, which seemed to resonate.

“Ive put my trust in you, pushed as far as I can go, for all this, there’s only one thing you should know. Ive tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end it doesn’t even matter. I had to fall to lose it all, but in the end it doesn’t even matter.”

This chorus made me think of my relationship with so many people. My teachers, my parents, my friends, those I secretly envied and wanted to be like. I was looking to be anyone else but myself.  The song was definitely part of my coming of age, and accepting the person I was. Theres only so much you can do to please others.. I didn’t need to change for anyone else. Other people’s opinions didn’t matter.

Fast forward ten years, and I was living and working in Abu Dhabi, UAE. As the post-race concerts for the Formula1 event were announced, I was delighted to see Linkin Park would be performing, having never seen them live before. Other songs of theirs had become favourites of mine – Numb, Crawling, Papercut, Faint, and One Step Closer to name a few. The day came round and I felt honoured to witness this band perform. It was literally one of the greatest live concerts I had attended. As they played ‘In The End’, the goosebumps came back as they always do to that song, but this time I looked back at all that I have achieved in the ten years from first hearing the track. I felt embarrassed to be in such a large crowd, overcome by emotion. But the beauty of that moment was that I was one of a number of thousands of people relating to that song right there.

Chester’s vocals were as impressive in real life as they were on CD.

Over the years, I have suffered from anxiety, loneliness and depression. As I have aged, I have understood a little more about how to break this feeling and to express myself. So many people have these issues, and music is a great form of escapism. In Linkin Park, I found an outlet who seemed to sing what I was feeling.

 A few weeks ago, a friend posted Facebook live videos of Linkin Park performing live from the O2 arena in London. Little did they know that they were going to be one of the final audiences to witness them live. I was completely jealous that they were there. They sounded awesome. Chester looked and sounded great. Weeks later, and he is no longer with us.

A man who despite his public acknowledgments of depression, seemed to have everything in place around him: a world famous band, millions of adoring fans, a large loving family, the respect of his industry. He had influenced more people than he would ever realise. A voice which gave chills. Only 41 years of age.

Coincidentally the same age that my uncle took his own life who will be Forever In Our Hearts.

Many people have views and thoughts about his final action. But ultimatley it was the demons in his mind that took control. He had spoke about how he had been abused as a child, he fought a long running battle with alcohol and drug addiction. He was open about his depression, and his music really served as a mirror into his world. The suicide of close friend Chris Cornell hit him hard, and he was found dead on the day that would have been Cornell’s birthday.

Much was written about Linkin Park's last record, One More Light. For me, I liked the new sound. I appreciated the difference. Many have called it Chester's suicide note, there for the world to see. Songs like Heavy offer a real insight to his mental state at time of writing. The title track One More Light was written in about a friend who had passed away. It was ever so poignant after the passing of Cornell, especially in the Jimmy Kimmel performance; and the way that LP performed it was as painful and grief filled as you could imagine. Listening to this song after Chester's passing absolutely wrecks me. Such a beautifully true expression of grief in one song. Beyond heartbreaking. You can see his pain within, in the way that Chester performed this in his final gigs, especially the Birmingham show, singing directly to the members of the audience.

Thank you for the music Chester, I wish that you didn’t have to take this tragic course of action. My heart is broken for your family, friends and band mates. I find a slight solace that your children will have so much footage of you at their finger tips, and that your music was an insight into your life. But that does not and will never replace having their daddy in their lives.

It shows the impact that a man had on the world, when millions grieve for the person who they have never personally met. But we all felt we knew you. You leave us with a vast musical catalogue, ensuring that your powerful, vulnerable, angry, emotional voice will forever be heard.

Your passing topped off what had been a pretty shitty week for me. Having been fearful for my health, and learning of the murder of my niece’s father, it pushed me into a level of negativity which I struggled to deal with. So i blogged about it.

There is always someone out there to talk to. If you have suicidal thoughts, seek help.

Who cares if one more light goes out? Well I do.

#FuckDepression #MakeChesterProud

Back Where My Story Began...

At the weekend, I celebrated my 34^th birthday. I had a number of the boys from my core friendship group, their partners and kids round to our new home for a BBQ in the back garden. My son was delighted to have a host of new playmates to keep him occupied running in and out of the paddling pool, up and down the slide, and in and out of the play room. My partner and I were more than happy to play host. It was a great day and amazing to catch up with the group. Since becoming a father, finding the time and money to have a get together with the boys has been harder to do. My priorities have changed somewhat. When you live on a budget each month, justifying a drinking session with the boys when bills need to be paid becomes problematic. It seems like I only get to see them for big occasions. But I guess that is life now. You do not need to see people every weekend for them to still be in your life.

For the most part, these guys have been in my life for a good ten years or more, some even longer. Our group has evolved in that time, with the main core having gone to school together, and others like me being friends with people within the group and joining the group along the way. We have seen break ups, new partners, weddings, babies, house moves, relocations abroad and many nights out.

But as I turn the grand old age of 34, I am back living in my parents’ house where I grew up, the house which most of my memories are from. The house, where we as a family have celebrated and mourned, where I have loved and lost. The house where I sat with my Grandmother during her final weeks, watching the fox cubs play in the garden. The dining room where I would listen to my Granddad sing aloud, as he listened to the Rat Pack whilst having a beer after his Christmas dinner. The kitchen with the fridge I would raid, as soon as my Mum had filled it with the weekly shop. The house where my Dad would give me piggy backs up the stairs as a kid. The house with the small box bedroom, where I would spend hours questioning everything, developing my own views and ideas about what I would do with my life.

I am back where my story began. Back home.

I am extremely grateful to now raising my own family there. My young son at two years old, exploring the world around him, chasing the squirrels and pigeons from the garden, my amazing partner who is always there for us, growing our unborn second baby, who will be ready to make their grand entrance in August. My parents, having relocated to a quieter life a few hours outside of London, have been amazing to give me a chance to save some money so that we can one day afford our ‘Forever Home’. We currently, as a family have the chance to make our own memories. I hope that my birthday BBQ in my back garden is the first of many great ones in my old house.

With moving back to where I was raised, I have been thinking more about old friends and the good times. We were a good bunch of boys united by our love of football and as we got older, beer, parties and girls. It is easy to reflect and remember stories about our childhood and teenage years.

I had many birthday parties in that same back garden. The best of which has to be in the summer of 1999, for my 16^th Birthday. It came at the end of a week where our group had been sitting our GCSE exams, and only a few weeks after a local car crash which had resulted in the loss of five young lives, including a really popular boy from the year above. There were easily over 50 teenagers in that garden, with a DJ, loud music and lots of drinking, dancing and laughing. We were enjoying being young. That night we really did party like it was 1999! Our neighbours can’t have approved, as the police were called and we were told to turn the volume down. I was lucky to have various friendship groups in attendance that night. Friends from Primary school, from Secondary school, from the local area, all came together to have a great time. A night that will live with me forever.

My oldest friends were from Primary school. All local to one area, the majority of our Fathers knew each other. We were allowed to drink in the local pub from the age of 15, as the owners placed the responsibilities of our actions to our Dads. The day we collected our GCSE results, we were in the Crossways pub, in South East London, comparing our results. By the day I was able to buy my first legal pint of lager, I had been a regular in the pub for around three years. That can be said for all of us in that group which had evolved from the local Primary school. Every Thursday for Karaoke without fail. By the end, the youngsters had taken over the pub on a Thursday, as it was so busy with under age drinkers!

As I have said in a previous blog post, I have time for anyone who has time for me. Years may pass, but the memories, love and respect will always be there. The group from my earliest memories will always be linked to my first home, and have played a huge part in my life. Over the years, I have lost regular contact with many of those boys. However, the bond is always there and in my opinion always will be. I had a great lunch catch up with one of my best friends from Primary school days today. We laughed as remembered various stories, and how we discussed the people we once knew around that time. For the most part, everyone in that group has found a form of happiness and relative success. It is good to know we have done well. Those days in the Crossways Pub must have served us well.

The Disconnect Between Action and Consequence..

Every day, unknowingly, our actions affect other people. Mostly they are unintentional, mundane actions, but the action of the individual, more than often, has an impact on someone else.

There are certain types of people in the world who I encounter on a daily basis, who drive me slightly crazy with their actions. They probably get on your nerves too. From the unwitting tourist in London, who doesn’t know which side of the escalator to stand on and makes everyone stop in their tracks, and the charity volunteer with a clipboard trying to get us to sign up to something. How about the nuisance cold sales calls we didn't ask for? Not forgetting the people who walk along the train platform with their smart phone in their hand getting in everyone’s way and slowing everyone down. Or the person who knocks into you at the bar, spilling your drink and not apologising? These actions affect us and can easily blow up out of all proportion if someone involved is a certain type of person.

But much worse than those people you encounter with unintentional actions, are the people who think they are above everyone around them, and the laws of the land. These people do not give a shit about their actions. They are the ones that make my blood boil. We have all encountered these people in our lives. And in my opinion, there seems to be a plague of these types of people in our society. The type of people who do not think twice about breaking the law, attacking people, committing crime, sexually assaulting someone, just because they think they can get away with it.

Last weekend, a young man, Oliver Dearlove, was killed in Blackheath, London,  as he waited for a taxi with friends after a night out. 

He was killed after being punched just once, by a man who quickly exited the scene. A man who thought he could punch someone and get away with it. However instead of just assaulting someone, the attacker killed him.

Police in Blackheath after the attack

In my opinion, the attacker is synonymous with an alpha male type of knuckle dragger mentality. A culture within a generation of men not really giving a f**k about the consequences of their individual actions. The type of person who is desperate to be feared, and respected amongst his peers. The type of person who swaggers around with bravado and an attitude of not giving a shit. The sense in his life that he is untouchable. I cant stand these types of people.

 

For whatever reason, the attacker found it acceptable to punch the victim, not caring for the implications that single punch would have. Sure, his argument in court will be that he didn’t mean to kill the victim. But he still thought that he could punch an innocent person and get away with it. 

 

Earlier today, a 31year old man was charged with murder. The accused pleaded 'Not Guilty' to the charge, on the basis that he did not intend to kill or cause serious injury to the victim. It makes you wonder how many other people has he attacked over the years, who haven’t ended up losing their life? We just don’t know. What we do know, is that the accused’s brother is serving life in prison for brutally murdering someone over ten years ago. It indicates to me, that if guilty, the accused comes from a background where violence is common, and there is no fear for the consequence of your actions.

What drove the attacker to do this is unclear, but there was a clear disconnect about his action, the consequences, and the implication that could have on so many people. Part of the problem in my view, is just how slack our judicial service is. There is no real deterrent for crimes in this country, as the courts are simply too soft. We offer ridiculously small jail sentences for awful acts of crime or violence. In my opinion prison is supposed to be hard time. It should be a hell on earth. It should be there to scare people into not wanting to commit crimes and violence. Also in my opinion, a life sentence should be mandatory for anyone who kills another in an act of violence. Even if the attackers intent wasn’t to kill, he did just that. Kill. Therefore life imprisonment is what the verdict should be if found guilty.

Assaults and fights are far too common in our society. Go to any town or city in the UK and there will be something for emergency services to handle. A fight could easily lead to far worse than intended, which makes you question, is it actually worth it?

The implications of the attack were not on the attackers mind at the time, and who knows why he decided to attack Mr Dearlove’s group that night? But the attack would have huge implications. And not only on the victim, but his family, his friends, his colleagues, the emergency services, medical staff and passers- by who tried to save him, and other people in the local community left completely horrified by the nature of the attack. 

The outpouring of emotion and heartbreak has spread far and wide in the local community, with the shock of what has happened to someone who was known and loved by so many people. He was in a good career, with a loving partner who he was planning his future with. He had a large loving family and had recently become an uncle twice to two baby boys.  He was living his life the right way. And now he is no longer with us. His parents have lost their son, siblings lost their brother, partner lost her boyfriend and nephews and nieces have lost their uncle and so on... All because, one man, decided to punch another man in a senseless, needless and tragic attack.

I was heartbroken when I realised who the victim was, the step brother of an old friend of mine. I cant begin to imagine what he and his family are going through. To everyone who knew and loved Oliver Dearlove, my deepest condolences and thoughts are with you. I can only hope that you can be there for one another and get through the tough times ahead.

I sincerely hope that there will be justice for this attack.

RIP Oliver Dearlove - gone far too soon.

Life will change in an instant...

For a lot of men, there comes a point in your life, when people tell you that life will change forever and that things will never be the same again, they are right. It won’t. Life will change in an instant. For you are about to become a Daddy, and it is the best thing in the world.

From the day your partner tells you the news, to the agonising wait for the first scan, and then every week leading up to the birth, you may feel levels of anxiety that you may not have felt before. You may question your life choices to date and whether you are actually ready for the next chapter in your life.  You shouldn’t because you are ready. 

You may have doubts over your income, and whether your maturity levels are acceptable of that of a soon to be father.  Income can rise over time but you may always stay an immature kid at heart, but that wont make you a bad Dad. Your partner will be full of knowledge, and you may wonder what the f**k is going on not knowing a thing. But rest assured you will not be the first in feeling that way, and that you will be surprised at what will come naturally.

In order to not feel like you know nothing like Jon Snow, you may decide to do some reading beforehand. You will find that books will either be very educational, or overly blokeish and laddy, trying to be comical. Depending on the style that works for you, it can certainly be beneficial to get some reading in, just so that things aren’t a total mystery to you. For a nice easy read, I recommend The Expectant Dads Survival Guide.

The attention will be solely on your Mrs from the time you announce the pregnancy (usually after your 12 week scan) and you need to accept that. You have done your job. Let her have her time to shine. Your job from here on is to be her support, learn your stuff, and make sure things are as stress free as possible. You simply need to do the right thing and be there for her. Make the most of her and enjoy eachother. My only main advice for parents to- be, is to make the most of the time you have as a couple. Because before you know it, you will be part of a treble (or more!), and taking babies to spa breaks, romantic weekends away, theatre and the cinema is sort of frowned upon. Get the date nights in before bubba arrives. 

Because once baby is here, a night out together will be a thing of the past. :(

When the time arrives and your baby is enroute, it is time for you to really step up. Your bags should have been packed, pram & car seat should be in the car, the route to hospital should be planned and it is now your time to shine. My tip would be to download the parking app (if there is one for your hospital) to save yourself time paying in the car park. Once inside, you will need to stay calm and supportive, and communicate clearly with the medical staff and family members texting and calling for updates every few minutes.

Understand your partners wishes in advance, but be prepared for any birthing plans etc to get thrown out of the window if things go a certain way. Despite the sheer confusion and panic which you may feel, your partner needs you now, and needs you to step up and be there. Brace yourself to feel totally helpless when things start happening. There is nothing you can do, and you should not think that you know best. You don’t. The professional medical staff do. They will have delivered hundreds of babies. You probably haven’t even watched a full episode of ‘One Born Every Minute’ - let them do their jobs, and stay out of the way.

Your partner will need you. You will hold her hand, you will stroke her hair, you will tell her how well she is doing and most above all, you will offer positive encouragement.  You will see her going through agony that you cannot even fathom, and you will see her in a totally different light than you ever have before. Before you know it, things will be in full swing and baby will be minutes away from being born. The staff will be in and out of the room, and you may feel like everything has gone a little surreal.

When my son was born, he had to be delivered promptly due to his heart rate dropping. I had no idea at this point what the hell was going on, but I knew that my Mrs needed me, and I needed to be calm, despite my own heart rate going through the roof. The midwives, doctors and other staff are yelling their encouragement, and readying themselves for the arrival. “Three pushes Katie, your baby needs to be out in three pushes” is something I will remember for my whole life.

Everything seemed a blur. There were screams, there were things I saw that can not be unseen, there was anxiety and there was fear.

And then he was out. And he was crying. 

It was 16:12 on March 13^th 2015 and he was here. I was a Daddy.

After controlling my bottom lip and wiping the tears from my eyes, I kissed my partner and told her how amazing she had done, and how much I loved her. Before I know it, my top was off and I am holding my son on my chest, skin to skin, with his little eyes looking up at me, feeling the warmest, proudest, most emotional I have ever been in my life. At that moment I promised him that I would do everything I ever can to make him have the happiest most fulfilled life that I possibly can. 

In those moments, I graduated from being a 30year old boy, to becoming a 30year old man. Life had certainly changed.  The room cleared, and it was just the three of us. My family. I looked out of window, with my son in my arms, and as clichéd as it seems, I told him the world was his, and that he would bring much love and happiness to many people in it. 

That evening he met his grandparents, and by midnight I was told to leave by the midwives. Despite my protests, they assured me that my partner and son were in good hands. And I trusted them. They had brought him into the world safely and looked after my partner when she needed them. Despite still feeling today that I should have stayed with them on the ward, in hindsight I was so grateful that I went home and had a full nights sleep. That drive home was something I will never forget. I was in a state of shock. I was up at 6am, having not moved in my bed all night, and I returned to the hospital for the first real day of parenting. We were lucky to be allowed home within 24hours of his birth. 

And it is then that the realisation kicks in. You are now parents, and this little baby is relying on you for everything.

My advice is simple, if people offer help, say yes. Even if that means simple things like bringing you dinner, or doing your washing etc. Let them. If family members want to sit with the baby to allow you to get some sleep, do it. Make the most of the help offered.

Two weeks paternity will fly by, and soon you will be back at work. Don’t expect a big song and dance. You aren’t the one who has given birth, so after the initial welcome back chats, you will be expected to be pulling your weight in the workplace. You will then go home after work and be expected to take over parental duties. The place may be a pig sty, but know that your mrs has been non stop at home looking after your baby.   

If you are like me, you will no longer yearn to be out with the boys every weekend, as the little bundle of joy in your arms will have stolen your heart, and will be the sole focus in your life, but make sure you get time in the diary to see your friends and have some time for you. Just as your partner will need time for herself too if possible.

People will tell you to get your sleep in advance of the birth, as if it is something that can be stockpiled. The truth is that you and your partner will be shattered beyond belief. It is how you manage the tiredness and communication between each other in these moments of sheer exhaustion which will be important. My partner and I made a deal, that anything that was said in a heated argument at 3am would be forgotten by sunrise. You are not you, when you are tired. She will not be her usual self when she is tired either. Let it go and move on.

Life will have changed, but it will have changed for the better. The fun will have started, but I promise, there is so much more to come. There will be highs, and there will be lows. Especially when your baby keeps eye contact with you the whole time they are straining to poop. However the love and pride you will feel will be like nothing you have ever experienced. Cherish every moment, as they are not babies for long!