God Wants Us To Grow

On 21st September 1986 I wrote a story called ‘God Wants Us To Grow’, which opened as follows:

‘The unknown is always frightening but also nearly always better.’

My sister found that story when she was moving house with my mam and dad, so she framed it for me and it’s hung on the wall just above where I’m sitting.

It seems I was wiser then than I am now, although at that time ‘the unknown’ was probably an imminent trip to the Quayside Market for a new shellsuit. Today’s unknown carries slightly more significance, because it’s not whether to opt for a fake Nike or genuine Naff Co 54 I’m concerned about, but how I’ll deal with being a daddy.

About six weeks ago I discovered that in late December my wife is going to give birth to our first child, so at Christmas we'll be welcoming either Joseph Taylor or Eve into the household - little Joey or little Evey. And I’ve just realised it could be twins, but lets put that scenario to one side until I’ve at least begun to come to terms with the thought of just one.

I’m already the daddy of many things, like Pro Evolution Soccer 4, go-karting and wearing pink, but it’s not like I can practice this one first, or phase it in gradually as I did with the latter of those skills. It’s going to be a sprint from its first poop to my last one.

I know I'm supposed to say I'm terrified, but I’m really not. At the moment I’m just enjoying the simple and delightful thought that I’ll be carrying a beautiful little boy or girl around before next year, showing it off to all my friends and buying tiny Converse hi-tops for it just like daddy’s. I haven’t yet thought about the sleepless nights, the constant crying, the huge expense, the disappearing social life and the fact that it could be an ugly little mug. Obviously, that’s never going to happen though because of the grade-A gene pool it’s coming from.

Currently I’m in a state of white fluffiness in my mind, in which my little boy or girl is the best looking, coolest, most well behaved creation ever to grace God’s Earth. And I’m going to milk this phase for all it’s worth until it comes crashing down, probably about the time that Nicola is doubled up over the bog unleashing her last ‘craving’ the wrong way at 3.30am while demanding more pickled-onion ice cream.

That’s when I’ll get scared. But for now I’m loving the congratulations and the sense of accomplishment. I’m also loving how visibly happy my wife is, constantly smiling and rubbing her stomach like there's a Ferrari F430 growing in there.

There’s a thought, we don’t have a middle name for a girl yet. Ferrari? Hmmm...

Classy middle name suggestions aside, I’m going to use this site to write about the pregnancy experience from a dad’s point of view. I’ll try and write as often as I can, because if nothing else it will provide a journal for me to look back at when it’s all over. Hopefully the experience will be adventurous enough to give me something to write about while remaining relatively unproblematic. This baby is a gift from God to us, so we know everything will be fine.

Hang on…Eve Lamborghini Nichol. Now that’s a name.