Where would I be without you?

F*cked?

Screwed?

Up the proverbial creek and severely lacking that much desired paddle?

Abso-freakin-lutely.

Yup, I'll confess, even as one of the more tenacious (a.k.a. control freak) and independent women of the world, the pregnancy and parenting life threw me many curly ones when I signed up... all of which (though it appals me to admit) I could never have survived alone.

Trying to work and function whilst feeling like I was permanently in freefall with a killer hangover - the first 12 weeks of pregnancy were torture. And as my bump grew bigger, my ability to survive alone gradually disintegrated, to the point where I couldn't even reach my feet to put my shoes on myself.

Labour lasted a tumultuous 3 days, in which the birth plan was about as relevant as my Year 10 algebra homework. And though my heady days of back to back partying trained me well for functioning on zero sleep, the early months of newborn insanity took sleep deprivation to a whole new level.

But what made it all, not only tolerable, but also created some of the best moments of my life?

Simple...

You.

My Partner.

The Dad.

You were there to help me when my feet became about as inaccessible to me as the Bolivian plains. To always get things from the bottom drawers, and to laugh with me about the ridiculousness of my situation when unable to heave myself off of the couch.

When labour struck, not only were you there through every arduous moment, you were that much needed face of love and dependability, who in the frenzy of it all going to shit was there to tell me it would all be OK.

And through those early months of endless sleep deprivation and feeding, you were there every step of the way - from the midnight explosive nappy situations, to your magic 4am baby settling touch.

You bring reason and sense to the chaos, and you make it clear that we are doing this together - no matter how exhausting and out of control baby-life can get. 

I'd secretly doubted you could really pull off the support role for pregnancy and labour, because what I truly needed was so intangible. I didn’t need the bins taking out, or the steps fixing. There was no job description or To Do list, and to be honest, neither of us had a clue what was coming our way.

But what you managed, without question or prompting, to clue yourself into what was happening and be my wing man, my cheer squad, and my carer all in one... which I know for anyone - male or female - is a challenge.

And you did it all so easily, simply because I could see that this time you really wanted it.

And the biggest privilege of all for me?

To witness you grow into the most incredible father I know.

So, for anyone out there concerned about becoming a dad, or fretting over being up to the challenge of the labour room, to succeed you just need to give in and embrace the idea of being a dad... the rest will simply follow.

So get involved, show her you give a shit, because it will make the world of difference to her, and you never know - you might just enjoy it...