Your partner gets the chance to bond with baby from pretty much day one, even if she doesn’t realise it. I mean, like it or not, the two of them are connected and living as one. As a Father though, you’re forced to wait a little while before you get such a privilege, or before it even hits home. I still haven’t been presented with real opportunities to bond with my unborn son, but there have been a handful of what I call ‘moments of realisation’ along the way. Its one of those moments I want to talk about tonight.

Despite already attending appointments, spending stacks of money and making plenty of changes; despite already having met my baby twice on the television screen that showed the results of 2 scans we’d had; despite having a scan photo saved as my mobile phone screensaver... It didn’t occur to me that I was going to be a Dad until I felt my baby move for the first time. Lay in bed with my wife and resting my hand on the bump, I felt a soft flick against the palm of my hand. He wasn’t really strong enough to kick as such then, but I certainly felt movement. It was at that point when photos, videos, discussions and ideas became well...life. Real life. Our life, that we had created! Feeling that life respond and interact with your own is an indescribable feeling. Proud, joyful, excited are words that just don’t seem to cut it. It has however led for me to make a shock announcement...

Women. Are. The. Superior. Sex.

There. I said it!

All women should be thanked. My Mother, her mother, my wife, her mother...all mothers; thank you! Without you, there wouldn’t be life. There wouldn’t be jokes for me to make in this blog about the messy burden of pregnancy. There wouldn’t be reason to blog at all. I wouldn’t be here at all. The job women do in creating, birthing and raising a child is beyond any words or reward. Women are a beautiful species and I am grateful to have so many beautiful women in my life. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Never let a man judge or criticise you. Never let a man put you down. Never fail to be proud of who you are, what you’re capable of and where you have come from. On behalf of all men, I thank you!

It’s turned midnight on a Saturday evening, rolling into Sunday morning and I’m stuck in the office facing several more hours of work. The human body isn’t meant to function at this hour (although after the birth of the baby I expect it will be forced to do so on a regular basis), and so my mind is in overdrive. I started this blog as a platform for emptying my mind of it’s thoughts and worries that aren’t always as easy to openly communicate, and tonight, even if no one listens, I’m going to express myself.

These are happy months. The birth of our first son is hugely anticipated and seen as nothing short of a positive miracle. Why then are they times that are so worrying? What am I worrying about? The list is endless.

Will I bond with my baby? With Mother staying at home and caring for little man, and Dad working long and tiring shifts, will I get the chance to bond and connect on the same emotional level with my Son?  Will I be able to balance my work life with my new family? Will nature really just take over? Will I just become marginalised when it comes to matters of ‘mum and baby’? I know the type of father I want to be, but how on earth do I work at achieving that?

Can I afford all of these baby related expenses?! On one salary? I read today that is costs on average £222,000 to raise a child to the age of 18. They don’t even start further education until they’re 18!

How do I care for this little guy that will depend wholly on me and my wife? Changing nappies, soothing, feeding, bathing and teaching are uncharted territory for me. Worse – what if people make me feel all the more useless and start telling me how to do those things, or that I’m doing them wrong?

Will I feel like a third wheel in my own family? Is it selfish to wonder if Dad will be Dad and forgotten as a Husband as the baby takes centre stage? Will I myself remember to be a Husband as well as figuring out how to be a Dad?

What about my friends? Is it selfish to even consider worrying about what may happen to my social life?

Question after question running through my mind at such an unsociable hour. Excuse the deep, dark maze known as my head that you have found yourselves invited into... I warned you this was an experiment from week one. I hope this feeling passes. I hope I step up to the plate. My worst fear is failure.

My son loves football. He just doesn't know it yet!

I firmly believe that when creating anything, it is my perogative to mould that creation in such a way that pleases me. Anyone who knows me, knows that I have many a passion, and that football is at the very top (or at least close to the top) of that list. I love football. My son will love football and will grow to love football alongside me - his Father. Excuse me if I sound power happy, or come across all control freak, but I believe that it is a mans right to inflict sports upon his son.

Introducing a child to football is merely stage one. Bringing a team into the equation is most definitely stage two. I am a lifelong Manchester United fan - just like my Father, my Mums Father and many more before them. My first teddy bears were either red and white with the badge sewn to their chest, or at the very least named after a former Old Trafford playing legend. My son will be introduced to the beautfiul game in a similar manner and be as happy as I am now for the privelege. I dont expect everyone to agree with me on this one, or even understand - but I know my fellow football fans (short for fanatics lest we forget) will know exactly where I am coming from.

Introducing football and a team to an unborn baby is an easy instruction to give. It's still an easy one to give to a newborn, and not much more complicated to bring upon a toddler. It is one of my biggest fears however, that my first born son will go on to grow to an age where he is capable of making decisions for himself and then defecting. Jumping ship from red to pale blue, or heaven forbid to a side we don't like to speak of but are known for having a fan base that like to steal hubcaps and model cheap tracksuits. Manchester United legend, David Beckhams eldest son supports Arsenal! Imagine how he feels waking up each morning? I bet he's suspicious of his milkman thats for sure. His other two sons however are United fans through and through I am told, and therefore I respect the fact that he has learnt from his mistakes as he made his way through the Beckham Breeding Programme. It made me think; Is there no form of sabotage considered too low in the battle for children's footballing afflictions? This is a battle that I must not lose!

We found out on January 7th that the baby we were expecting was to be a boy. It took me less than 24 hours to get the ball rolling...