My son was lifted into the world through a tear in his mother’s womb early one Friday morning, April 2013. It was not what we had planned, it was not what we had been expecting. to be honest, little about the pregnancy had been what I had been expecting, and not much that has followed either. And that pretty much sums up what learning to be a parent is all about.

It takes a great deal longer to stitch a mother up after a c-section than it does to rip her open and pull the baby out; half an hour or so to a few minutes. After the baby had been weighed, cleaned and his mother was given a few moments to peer through the epidural haze at her son, he and I were ushered into the hall, me to stare disbelievingly at this tiny thing and somehow let the last three days of fear and panic come crashing down upon me.

Somewhere in that sleep deprived disbelief and delirium, in which to be honest I was mostly just staring at my son hoping that what I was meant to feeling was going to realise itself, I had this moment of realisation.

I was a dad. And I suddenly knew more about being a dad than anyone who wasn’t a dad. I had something to say. I had valuable experience.

I could write a blog.

Having blogged before for work and play I thought it would be fun to write about my experiences as a dad as they happened. I thought I might have a voice, an honesty, and perhaps a giggle or two along the way; something to share with other new dads or dads to be.

What the fuck did I know.

Being a dad, being an equal share in the raising of our little boy, is fucking hard work. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. And time consuming. I had no idea. It’s taken me a while to get my shit together.

Still, I shall endeavour to write more, be truthful and, I hope too, entertaining for those of you who have stopped by for which I also thank you.


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