Daddy Cool


Today is a day for a bit of a clear out… taking down the Christmas decorations and doing the laundry, that sort of thing. In the process, I happened to glance at the Christmas card I got from Rob. He’s great at writing really meaningful cards. I usually am too… expect this year, I hadn’t even gotten around to writing his by the time we were ready to exchange presents. I do give myself credit for having bought it though. It was funny, too!

Anyway, while we are on the subject of giving credit, I feel he deserves some too. I’d be lying if I said we effortlessly found our feet as new parents. We did pretty good at the beginning but after about two or three months, the workload in his business started building just about the same time as sleepless nights began to get the better of me. So we’ve had our fair share of disagreements about who should be doing what, and how much of it. After all, the credit for one dirty nappy change only lasts so long. Or one emptying of the dishwasher. More credit for doing the shopping.  Bonus points for soothing a crying baby back to sleep.

But then there seem to be endless deductions as well. For having an acute cooking phobia, for example. Or for suggesting that getting a cleaner in every six weeks is entirely sufficient. Biggest deduction of all for intimating that it is really my job to look after Lilly. Ok, the last one’s not funny. Not even months later. I think I made my point on that one.

All that being said, I am assuming it must not always be easy for the guys. Maybe some of them just breeze naturally into fatherhood but my guess is that it can be a bit of a rocky road for the best of them. Just like for us girls. It certainly seems that your intimate relationship stands a pretty good chance of taking a back seat to taking care of your little bundle of joy for a while.

And it takes a great husband to recognize that, and to make a conscious decision to put that relationship back on the agenda.

That’s what my Christmas card was all about. Best present I could have wished for. Thanks love!



Last week, I went to see a friend and her little girl. We’re all part of a group of new mummies that met through our antenatal class, and we’ve been keeping each other sane on our journey into motherhood ever since.

My friend showed me the latest magazine of the organization that coordinated our course. It listed all the babies born for the various class facilitators. Under the names and birth dates of all our precious babes was a note about another mum who was in our group. She ended up having a very different journey. Her little boy was born and died the same day.

Reading that really got me. Even now, I can’t write about it without welling up inside. I knew it had happened… but it happened before I became a mum myself and I guess that means it happened before I could even begin to comprehend the enormity of that loss. Before I could really understand the intense love you feel for this little being that has come into your life. It might not be there straight away, or it might be a feeling that is present and continues to expand. I found myself falling in love more and more with Lilly over time. I loved her when she was born of course… and I have been falling in love with her ever since. To think of her being taken away before I could even get to know her seems unbearable.

When Oliver first passed away, we were told not to make contact. After some weeks, our antenatal teacher told us it would be ok to send a card. I never did. I just didn’t know what to say. I know there’s nothing you can say. But you can say you care. And that Oliver matters. That he’s not forgotten just because I didn’t (and don’t) know what to say.  

There’s no neat and clever way to wrap this post up either. Some things in life just don’t work that way. But I guess the least I can do is to finally have the courage to print this and send it to Oliver’s mum. Because even though we don’t see her, she is not forgotten either.