What do you get the man who gave you your whole word?
He spent the last 15 months creating a little person with me. He woke up when my 3am alarms went off to check my temperature to see if I was ovulating. He endured conversations about cervical mucus. He answered my gazillion ridiculous questions during the 2 week wait. He let me spend all our money on digital tests. He held my hand while we waited and dipped sticks in pots of my urine. He was as gobsmacked and terrified as me when we saw a pink line. He was in a daze for the first week because we just couldn't believe it. He rushed to the hospital with me when I started bleeding. He told me it was going to be okay even though he didn't actually believe that at the time. But as usual he was right. He let me book an expensive private scan and he sat by his phone at work waiting, eventually getting a text from me to say there was a wonderful beating heart on the screen. He looked at the photo of the ultrasound and pretended he could see it too. He cleaned up my sick and held my hair out the way, rubbed my back and did all the things I was too ill to do. I don't think I entered the kitchen for about 2 months. He walked to the nearest tesco maybe 50 times, sometimes multiple times a day, usually for one ridiculous item like crutons or marmalade, which I would throw up the same evening. He came to the scan and saw our wriggler wriggling. He stopped drinking tea around me because the smell made me wretch. He came to midwife appointments and asked questions and listened to the answers when I didn't. He didn't need to know the sex of the baby but I wanted to so we found out together. He denies welling up when the baby showed us his face during the 20 week scan and we got a photo of his little pouty mouth. He came up with the idea for our baby's beautiful name: Oscar Henry, and talked me out of pregnancy brain names like Rory the Bear. He put my stretch mark cream on and let me buy unecessary things for the nursery. He built the crib while I sat beached in bed eating all his hobnobs. He walked slowly everywhere with me. He would sleep with his hand on my bump so in the morning he could tell me that the baby had been wriggling just fine in there. He left work straight away every time I rushed to the hospital for monitoring. He trapsed round all the shops with me buying little boots and mitts we would never use and watching me spend £70 on toiletries for my hospital bags. He drove us between the South and the North all summer while we did up our new home which we have because of him working long hours in a tough job. He put up shelves and pretended to care about colour schemes. He let me have 99% of the bed with my huge pregnancy pillow. He told me I looked lovely even when I had a watermelon sized bump sticking out of me. He painted my toenails when my bump was in the way.
He drove me to the hospital at 1am for lack of wriggling. He rushed home from work when I was 40+3 because of less wriggling and he held my hand and carried the bags as we were admitted. He slept on a chair with a damp towel for a blanket and he helped me to have a bath to ease the pain. He rubbed my back through contractions and fetched me sandwiches and wandered the corridors hunting down midwives at 1am. He supported me through 31 hours of labour and at the end when I just couldn't do it anymore and the midwives were barking orders at me, he held me and calmed me down, and finally I understood how to push and all of a sudden there the baby was. He cut the cord and he cried and he said thank you 100 times. He had skin to skin with our son as I was put back together. He slept (on my bed while I sat in the chair but we'll forget that part) because he was exhausted, and then he fetched me tea and toast and called my mum. He slept on hospital chairs and he forgot to eat or shower. He took photos and he helped me to latch the baby on every time. He cleaned up milk and sick and probably other things. He drove us home at 15 miles an hour in the snow.
Even now he still gets up at 4am to stop the crying when I pretend to be asleep, even though he has a full day of work ahead. He takes the baby as soon as he is home and sometimes I wake up to peace and quiet because they are on a dog walk while I lie in. Every single 1am feed I do is met with a "thank you, you're a wonderful mummy" and a little shoulder pat. Ozzy is 6 months now, and we need to find the perfect Fathers Day gift. He probably needs socks and he would definitely like beer; but hopefully this heartfelt post, written while a baby sleeps on my bladder and a dog sleeps at my feet, surrounded by our home, filled with dirty laundry but mainly love, will go someway towards saying what we want to say. This is to show him just how amazing the life we have built together is. ❤️
We’ve also put this little parcel together to show him how thankful we are.
Photos in the gallery below.
We were sent a beautiful photobook from Lifecake. They have an app, and you upload photos as your child grows up. You can then pinpoint specific moments and dates, and look at the photos. If I want to see what Ozzy looked like when he was 3 weeks old, I can easily scroll to that milestone on the app. They also have an online store where you can order prints and photobooks. This one for Tom has photos ranging from my scan when I was 5w6d pregnant right up until Ozzy is 6 months old. There are photos of scans, my bump, his nursery, our first moments with Ozzy, the first time he met family members, his first Christmas and loads more. I also included our weekly/monthly milestone card photos at the end, so we could see a quick timeline of how our little cub has grown. This will be a beautiful way for Tom to relive his journey as a Father, and it will be a wonderful keepsake.
For Tom's card. the wonderfully talented Chloe Fae made this personalised portrait of Tom and Ozzy together. How artistic is she?! He is going to love it. Head over to her Etsy store to browse her quirky illustrated art prints and greeting cards. Also take a look at her Instagram account for beautiful photos of her creations.
We also bought Tom a bottle of whisky. For someone who claims it's his favourite drink, he only has a few in his repertoire, so for each special occasion now we are buying him a new one to sample. We went for Jura Origin because I liked the bottle, it's that simple. Hopefully he'll enjoy it. The tag hanging around the neck of the bottle was also made by Chloe Fae, and it says 'Daddy's drink for when I'm being a pickle'. Very true - sleepless nights and leaky nappies would drive anyone to drinking.
Tom, I hope you're sufficiently satisfied with Ozzy's choices. Happy Father's day, thanks for supplying some top class sperm :) x