Tuesday January 3rd, 10:00 am
In study. Emily at work. Blustery showers on their way from the North (according to the BBC weatherman).
Last night, when Emily got home from work, I made her a sumptuous dinner of citrus seared tuna with crispy noodles, herbs and chilli (thanks Jamie Oliver). She seemed impressed. I opened a bottle of Italian red and attempted to have a proper conversation. I was open, honest and everything that she claims that I’m not. I told her about my lunch with Ben and watching the squirrel, which, to be honest, just seemed to confuse her, but she listened intently and when I’d finished she said very calmly.
“Harry, don't freak out, but I’m pregnant!”
"But, what, where, when...how?"
"About three weeks ago. We both had our work Christmas parties.”
"Not ringing any bells."
"I came home drunk and you were eating a lamb kebab."
"Oh, right, yeah, the lamb shish, I remember."
"That's what jogged your memory? Anyway, I forgot to take my pill that day and we were a little lax with the condom."
"Shit."
"I took the pregnancy test on Saturday and it was positive."
"Are you sure though because pregnancy tests are notoriously hard to read?"
"It said pregnant, in words."
"Oh."
"I'm definitely pregnant, Harry. You’re going to be a father.”
"But if you were pregnant all along, why were you asking me if I wanted to be a dad? Why didn't you just tell me straight away? I'm confused, Emily." (For the record I still am).
"Because I knew it would be a big deal and I thought, well, that maybe if I could get you used to the idea first. I'm sorry Harry, but you know what you're like." (Awesome)
At that point, I slipped into something resembling a coma. Emily was still talking but I was locked inside my own little world, until I was brought crashing back to reality.
“Harry, are you listening to me?"
"Sorry, I was thinking."
"I know this is a lot to digest, but it's not the time to have a bloody mid-life crisis."
"Who's having a mid-life crisis? I'm not having a mid-life crisis."
"Because the last thing I need at the moment is you losing touch with reality. You're going to be ready aren't you, Harry?"
I don’t think I’m having a mid-life crisis. For a start, I’m only thirty-two. Sometimes Emily can be very irrational. I didn't know what to say. Am I ready to be a dad? Am I going to be a good father? I didn’t know. Unfortunately, while I was thinking, I slipped into another coma and before I knew what was happening, Emily was screaming at me.
“For fuck's sake, Harry, when are you going to grow up?" Then she stormed out of the room.
1:00pm
Still waiting for the blustery showers from the North. Eating a packet of prawn cocktail crisps. Squirrel outside taunting me with his carefree happiness. Pain in my side.
In an attempt to delay the onset of middle-aged spread, I did some push-ups and sit-ups before bed last night and almost fainted. I’ve had a sharp pain in my side ever since.
I was supposed to clean out the shed this week, but I can’t be bothered. I looked up the pain in my side and it could be anything from a stitch, kidney tumour, kidney stones, shingles, to an impending heart attack! Fantastic, I tried working out and it could lead to early death!
I have made a list of pros and cons about having a baby:
Pros
Babies are cute and generally considered to be a good thing. It will make my mother the happiest mother in the whole world. It will make Emily the happiest wife in the whole world. It might even make me happy. We will have someone to take care of us when we’re old. I’ll have someone to mould in my own image. It might be fun. I’m not getting any younger and I don’t want to be a super old dad.
Cons
They’re expensive. They shit a lot. Lack of sleep. It would severely hamper our freedom. No more weekend lay-ins. It might destroy our sex life (I’ve heard horror stories from other men). Am I ready to say goodbye to our sex life forever? What if it destroys our marriage? At the moment we have a good life. We have two steady jobs and a nice house in a good part of London. Am I ready to put all of that in jeopardy for a baby? Lastly (and most importantly I think) every couple we know with kids are the most boring people in the whole world. All they ever want to talk about is their bloody kids i.e. “Last week Angus did his first banana shaped poo, it was just too adorable.” Am I ready to become that dull? Am I ready to openly discuss poo with my nearest and dearest?
This Thirtysomething Life: A Diary will be available to buy at http://ma2books.webplus.net/ next May.
Blog soon x
