New beginnings

… And a leave of absence

Earlier this year, my wife Ruth and I embarked on a programme of propagation. 

The methodology was disconcertingly straightforward. First, we gathered our parent material, which was easy, as the parent material in this case was the two of us. Next, fertilisation occurred (I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say, the process did not require the participation of bumblebees). 

Then, we played the waiting game – which unlike most traditional games involves prolonged periods of nausea, discomfort and lower back pain for precisely 50% of active participants. 

Well, here we are, some 40 weeks later, and the results of our experiment will soon begin to be revealed, though it will still be some time before we are able to identify which characteristics will have been passed down through the gene pool to the newly germinated specimen.

OK, maybe I need to be a little clearer: Ruth is pregnant, has been for a while now, and is due to give birth to our second child at some point in the very, very near future.

Our feelings now are similar to those we experienced in the period immediately before our son was born, just over three years ago. Excitement to meet the newest member of our family; trepidation towards labour and the actual birth bit; and anxiety about our ability to cope with the stress and sleep deprivation which will soon become a “normal” part of our day to day lives.

I imagine that just as no amount of military drills and field exercises can fully prepare a soldier for the realities of life on the front line, no antenatal course on Earth (NCT, Bump & Baby Club, or whatever your local equivalent may be) can fully prepare a parent-to-be for the realities of life with a newborn. 

Seriously, when it comes to looking after plants, I have had to attend months’ worth of classes, do hours of extracurricular reading and learning, and complete dozens of written assessments and practical tests, before a licensed governing body would eventually deem me worthy of the task and issue me with a certificate to indicate as much. And I still can’t keep my houseplants’ leaves from curling and yellowing and flopping over.

What hope do I have as a father of two?

We’ll work it out. With love and patience and much marvelling at the miracle of life, and sleepless nights and the shedding of a great many tears, we will muddle our way through and make do as best we can, just like all those who have trodden this path before us, and all those who will follow in our footsteps. 

But the birth of our second-born child will have world-changing ramifications for you too, dear reader. For their arrival will mark a period of paternity leave for your humble correspondent. I can’t at this stage say when exactly this pause will begin, or how long exactly I will be absent from your inbox, but realistically it will be somewhere between two and four weeks. 

Paid subscribers, if you would prefer to pause your subscription until my return, just hit reply to this email and I’ll sort it out – I believe it’s a fairly simple process. I can then un-pause it upon my return. 

I have so many ideas percolating in my mind; so many fascinating interviewees lined up for a chat; so many other writers and broadcasters and content creators that I want to direct you towards; so many weird and outdated gardening practices that I want to call out; so all I ask is that you watch this space. I’m not going anywhere (for long). Just bear with me. 

For now, I’ll see you on Friday. Or I won’t. And if I don’t, you’ll know why.

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Header image picture credit: Daniel Dan on Unsplash