Jack Tame: A new baby, a new generation, a new life

The first thing I noticed was Mava’s thirst. 

In the years I’ve known my wife, I can’t think of a time when she’s voluntarily consumed a glass of water. Coffee? Sure. Iced latte in the morning, Pepsi Max in the afternoon. But water? Water has never really been her jam. And yet here she was, all of a sudden, glugging back glass after glass of the good stuff. 

“You’re pregnant,” I said. 

The next thing I noticed was her sweet tooth, or rather lack thereof. 

“Do you want a treat?” I called from the kitchen. One of my wife’s finest qualities is she never says no to dessert. And yet... No. 

“I just don’t feel like it,” she said. 

“You’re pregnant,” I said. 

It’s amazing how much a line on a stick can change your life. 

I think when I was younger, I didn’t properly appreciate that sometimes life doesn’t go the way you expect it will. I have a lot of friends for whom getting pregnant and having children hasn’t been anything like our experience so far. Sometimes it just doesn’t happen, and it can be the most painful, traumatic experience. I feel so fortunate, in that sense. 

Crazy how quickly the algorithms get you. You sign up for one baby app —‘this week your baby is the size of a turnip’— and all of your ads change in an instant to pushchair brands with soft Nordic names and umlauts. Oh, to have invested in the baby business a few decades back. 

I’ve learnt a lot about my wife over the last 6 months. She’s tough. Retching at the traffic lights one minute, and back on with her day the next. How ever many billion years of evolution and pregnant women are left with scientifically-dubious acu-pressure bands and ginger tea?! The good news is her sweet tooth’s back. And her sense of humour never left. 

I’ve found myself thinking about the other parents in my life, and particularly my own. I’m one of four. Four! And my folks had no help. I can already see why people rate raising children as their greatest accomplishment. 

Although I understand it all in a theoretical sense, I’m not sure the full weight of impending fatherhood has yet sunken in, or will until our baby is born. 

Mava is due in February. We’ve got a pram. We’ve got a cot. We’ve tossed around a few ideas for names, and I’ve been mesmerised by the images on the ultrasound screen. But even as I place my hand on my wife’s bump and feel something, someone, a bit of me shift and wriggle and kick, for now it’s all just magic. 

I know there will be tough times ahead. Exhaustion and exasperation. But I also know the magic will only intensify. 

A new baby. A new generation. A new life. And the sense that mine will change forever. 

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