D- Dads

I am very lucky. My partner is a "hands on" dad! A good'un. A grafter. A star.

I know women have the hardest of hard jobs; carrying the baby, giving birth, making the big decisions and then all of the "new baby" politics that take place afterwards. It helps if we can think that the Dads have got it easy, but if you stand back and think about what it's like on the outside, it must be quite hard.

The dad will never feel a comforting kick from inside his tummy, never understand the ecstacy a mother feels at the end of childbirth, never comfort a baby with his own milk and he rarely gets to spend the first night with his new family. Sent off home. Alone.

A new dad will get two weeks off (if he's lucky) with his new child and then he has to be the first to leave, the first to say goodbye, the first to return to work and step out of the bubble and back into reality.

But in this modern day society we expect them to do everything that we do. We expect everything to be equal ,to be shared. And if you've got a good one - it is!

The father of my sons goes to work everyday so I don't have to. He comes home later than he ever did and works through his lunch hour, he sorts out all the bills and sometimes even does the weekly shop on his own, to save me a job. And in return fot this? He is still on the outside. He was working when they crawled for the first time. Not there when they took their first steps, tried their first food and babbled their first words. He misses out on taking them to school on their first day. He can't get time off to watch them in their first nativity play. He won't be there to cheer them on at their first sport's day. He's busy at work so I can do all of these  wonderful things.

For all those Dads who are rolling up their sleeves up, making life easier for us Mums. -Well done and thank you.

N - Not having a girl.

I have two adorable boys. I recently found out I was having a third. As we have decided this is the last pregnancy, a third boy came a bit of a shock. Even though I had tried to prepare myself for the likelihood of having three sons and what a blessing this was going to be, I still had to come to terms with the news I was never going to have a daughter.

My mum is a feminist, a product of becoming a woman during the 60's and 70's. My sister and I are therefore mini-feminists; we have soaked up her opinions, we've been brought up to believe, as women, we can do anything, but we have become women in a society where equality and political correctness have been breathing down people's necks.

In my childhood, my strongest family influences were all women, they were always more dominant; my grandmas, my aunties and my elder sister. Although I have often found myself forming easier rapports with men, when it comes to guidance, influence, idols and role models, I have always turned to women. I have formed many (unromantic) friendships with men, but they have never lasted, only ever been circumstantial, whereas the ones which last, the ones I work at, the ones where I have put the effort in have all been with other women. My favourite writers, musicians, actors and teachers are all been women.

So, when I looked at my future self, I was always with daughters. I just expected to have them. So to accept that you won't, that takes a while to be something you can say comfortably.

For me, it's not about the frills, or the colour pink, or plaiting hair, or buying bras or planning weddings (for gods sake I can't be arsed to plan my own)! It's about something I wanted to pass on; a bond, a relationship, a sisterhood.

But with the ever growing girl-worship in our society, maybe I was needed to raise boys; to re-establish the balance. Champion the underdog once more. The boy! The glorious, adorable, loud, boisterous, sensitive, intelligent, loving boy!

M - Maternity clothes

Before I had any children, and was trying to get pregnant, I would wistfully turn to the "Maternity" section of my NEXT catalogue and daydream about what I would wear if I were pregnant! Oh the irony! Because all I did when I was pregnant is flick through magazines daydreaming about the clothes I would be able to wear if I wasn't pregnant.

Some shops used to do a "maternity" section - a lonely, forgotten rack of clothes, so inappropriately placed in the shop, if you blinked you'd miss them. Or so forgotten that when asking a shop assistant if they had a maternity section she'd look puzzled and shout over her shoulder "Marie, where'd you stck them maternity clothes?" And if you were lucky enough to find it, you would have the choice of a pack of two T-shirts - (one black, one white),a pair of black work wear trousers, an attempt at an "evening top", one very unflattering dress and a pair of boot cut jeans. If you're lucky there may be a nightie as well.

Now most high street shops, have opted to remove this rail, to make more room for mini skirts and skinny jeans and when you ask where the maternity section is they'll say "we do it online".

So, you shop online, guessing about what these unusual items with extra elastic and no fastenings will look like. You buy them, over the bump, under the bump, they're all bloody uncomfortable. The only thing to wear whilst pregnant are floaty dresses and maternity leggings - in fact I think after discovering maternity leggings last time round I'm never going to buy a pair of normal leggings again. They are the most comfortable (and probably unflattering) piece of clothing ever! I recommend them to all you pregnant ladies... And non-pregnant ladies too - Go on treat yourself!

S - Second children

The other day I found my second child sat in his father's sock draw (1 metre off the ground) drinking my bio oil. It would never have happened with the first.

But we say this a lot...

His brother would never have worked out to pull himself up on the radiator and hang head first out of our bedroom. His brother wouldn't have climbed a ladder, leaning against an outhouse at a garden party, only to be caught when he was spotted inches away from climbing onto the dilapidated roof. His brother would have never worked out how to open the front door and make a dash for it when no one was looking.

Other Mums drop there head to one side, as I tell anecdotes of his latest adventures, and say softly "It's the second child syndrome, just like my so-and-so".

But second children weren't born like this, it's not a default. Sure, some of it is personality, but we have to look at ourselves for this one. We smother the first child with all our insecurities and idiosyncrasies, unable to see the bigger picture as we are so preoccupied with the all-consuming love for your first child. You don't love the second any less. but you love it with freedom, you relax into parenthood, turn a blind eye, and let's be honest, lose a bit of control, because with more than one there just isn't the time. So the second child, overflowing with independence and free will, is formed.

So when they ring you up from the other side of the world, about to bungee jump off the largest bridge wearing nothing but a mankini, we only have our selves to blame.

W - Waddling

I fight it as long as I can. The waddle. I mean, you can't strut when pregnant, but you can aim to look as less duck like as possible for as long as possible. But... then... inevitably... it becomes out of your control. You feel it in every inch of your movement, you see it on people's faces, you catch yourself in reflective windows - your waddling!

*waddle waddle pant pant waddle waddle pant* Somewhere between 6 and 8 months pregnant you stopped being a woman and became a duck-dog!

Don't worry it's only temporary.

F - Finding out

Conversations with random people I barely know
#Take 1

RPIBK: Are you going to find out the sex?
Me: Yes. I think so.
RPIBK: Oh but you can't, you mun't. Please don't
Me: Welll, we both want to.
 RPIBK: Oh no! Don't. Please, just promise me you'll think about it.
Me:Erm... ok  [walking away, said under my breath] even though I'll probably never speak to you again.

#Take 2

RPIBK:  Are you finding out?
Me: Yes we are.
RPIBK: Brilliant [claps hands with unnecessary delight]. I'm so pleased! you will tell me won't you when you know.
Me: Erm... ok. [walking away, said under my breath] but the next time I see you the baby will probably be able to tell you itself.

I mean, what is that all about?

Be it my sister, best friend, colleague or an acquaintance who was pregnant , I wouldn't really care if they were finding out or not. It's such a personal preference - plus why would it have anything to do with me?

Some people like to know, some people want a surprise. It's up to them. Some people need to be prepared.

I found out with all three mine. Each time it was a surprise, I just got the surprise 4 months earlier and it meant I could go shopping - bonus! But that's what we wanted. I have no will power as well, so even with the second when I thought I wouldn't find out I caved as soon as I got in the scanning room.

Whatever you do, let it be your choice and don't listen to random people you barely know - who are they anyway?