Oh God. It’s Coming Out!

You are never fully prepared for the moment she goes into labour. Just accept it, man up and start moving. This is the moment you’ve trained for soldier. You are going to be scared shitless and ready to run screaming for the hills but remember that however scared you are She is a million times more so and with a million times greater reason too. This is your time to step up to the plate and be a man.

We’ve all heard the expression anyone can make a baby but it takes a man to be a father. Never a truer group of words spoken but that’s not all. You need to be a man from now on.

Don’t wait for the kid to come out. Now is your time to be there for her: completely and utterly. This is the scariest thing she has ever done and there is no backing out for her. Whatever happens, She has to deliver this baby. She is going to experience pain the likes of which you have never experienced.

Imagine every kick in the nuts you’ve ever had. Now imagine all that pain added together, multiplied by fifty and you aren’t even close. Now imagine that pain lasting for hours. Now imagine you are experiencing that pain naked from the waist down for all that time while strangers walk by and occasionally peer up your ass.

I’m barely touching the surface here but you get the idea. This is going to hurt and she knows it. She’s more scared than she’s ever been so you have to be her rock. It doesn’t matter what you’re feeling – bury it.

You’re a man, you’ve bottled up everything else in your life so suck this up and be strong for her. I used to joke in my act that my feet were killing me during labour but could I get any sympathy? Guys loved that bit. Women, not so much. Try and distract her. Puppet shows are good. Rating the hotness of the midwives is not. Tell her over and over how proud you are of her and that she’s going to be an excellent mother.

Unlike men, women think about hundreds of different things at the same time and at this moment in their lives they are inundated with every insecurity imaginable:

• Will I be a good mother?

• Will the baby be okay?

• What if I don’t love it?

• What if it doesn’t love me?

• Will I get my figure back?

• Will he still find me sexy after this?

• What if I poo myself?


You need to help allay as much of this as possible.

• Of course you will.

• Of course it will.

• Of course you will.

• Of course it will.

• Of course you will.

• Of course I will.

• I will fall about laughing and keep reminding you about it at family get togethers.

You have to allow for the last one. I said be a man, not a wuss. Anything to do with poo or farts is funny. No room for discussion.

It just is.

In the delivery room while my wife was giving birth there was an incredibly comfy looking leather armchair placed lovingly in a corner. I say comfy looking because I wasn’t dumb enough to try to sit in it.

It’s a trap!

Stay away from the chair. If you dare plonk your testosterone filled ass on that chair for even a second you will unleash the combined fury of one agonised woman and at least six overworked, underpaid female staff and the resulting carnage will make the movie 300 look like Finding Nemo. That chair is a test. Just like her asking if her bum looks big or if you think her best friend is hot, it’s a test. Men only have to fail one of these tests once to endeavour to never fail another.

As you peer around her gigantic arse trying to get a glimpse of her hot best friend you will lie more convincingly than Bill Clinton when faced with semen stained dress and a soggy cigar. Forget the chair exists. It only leads to pain.

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