Every morning and every night, my baby is among my first and last thoughts. I wonder at what they will look like, which attributes they will have of mine and which of their mother. I guess at what their interests will be and I have imaginary conversations with them, at different stages in their life. It’s really quite sappy, but I can’t wait to have a child and a friend at the same time.
The anticipation has of course made me wonder how my father was when he learned I was on the way.
I miss my father, and mourn the Poppy he will never be
The circumstances are a little different though – he was 19, I’m 26; he wasn’t married, I am; he was a shop assistant at a car parts dealership, I’m a marketing professional at a financial services organisation that handles $2.5B; and his father, the new grandfather, was alive and mine and my baby’s isn’t.
My meandering thoughts have made me remember a whole host of things about my dad. Like the time my mother was in hospital with my youngest (at the time) brother, and Dad, me and my next brother hired a movie each and bought bags of lollies from the supermarket. We watched and gorged and we drank spiders.
I also remember when Mum wasn’t home for dinner one night and Dad cooked us boys steak, chips and eggs. It was a treat to have all ‘fatty’ foods and no vegies.
I certainly didn’t want in the parental department after Dad’s death though; my mother did the work and played the role of both parents really. We are incredibly close and I have loads and loads of wonderful memories with her. But she isn’t a father of a boy, and that’s different.
No matter what sex our baby is, I am supremely confident I will help it makes its way in the world and give it every opportunity to be happy. I do wonder whether it is possible to love an unborn child too much, cause that’s where I think I am sometimes!
Regardless, love, support and plenty of cuddles will be a staple offering from this father. Perhaps with chips and eggs sometimes too.
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