Like a child, whenever somebody shouts my name I assume I’m in trouble. So, when my wife called me into the living room, I was instantly tense.
‘She’s spotted the spaghetti stain on the carpet’ I thought to myself as I trudged to the couch.
She didn’t look mad, but that could have been a smokescreen. I’ve fallen for that one before.
For me, fatherhood spelled fear.
I’d always known my partner wanted children. I locked that knowledge away in my mind, filed under ‘Distant Concerns’. The idea brought up too many issues, too many worries which I was afraid to face head-on. So away they went.
For years I was able to dodge the subject while we got our ducks in a row. The timing had to be perfect. Stable relationship, check. Good jobs, check. Own home, check. The ducks were forming an orderly line. Damn ducks.