It took my wife and me a long time to get pregnant. Six long years of trying, until the beautiful and cinematic moment on our 9th wedding anniversary when we received the news. We were sat on the sofa, after Mrs DB’s trip to the bathroom, staring expectantly for the line to jump into life. Eventually it did and on the other end of the phone was a very nice northern accented lady confirming to us that after the interview, yes interview, she and her colleagues had decided that they would like us to have their baby. She said she would be in touch, rung off and we cried.
To this day I’m not sure why Mrs DB peed on the phone before it rang but she’s a forceful woman and I’m not willing to argue. However, from now on I’ll definitely be going hands free…
As pregnancies go, ours wasn’t conventional. Eventually, after years of trying we became bureaucratically pregnant. Over the next few weeks, my beautiful wife’s bump grew and grew until one day we had a whole file of forms and reports ready to burst forth from their A4 cocoon into the big, cold, scary world that awaited them. For us, our adopted child had the same gestation period as a lion cub (following some internet research, my options for equivalent gestation periods appeared to be lion or pig and we’ve already established I’m not blessed in the bravery department) and 17 weeks later, our beautiful little boy roared into our lives.
I can’t give too many specifics about our little one. There will be no pictures or names. As those who have experience of adoption will know, extreme care has to be taken in these types of situation. All I can tell you is that I’m now the proud owner of a bouncing baby three year old, referred to here as “B” (for “Boy”). B has had a tough start in life, with plenty of loss and misfortune along the way but also a stoic resilience to leave us with a caring, funny, outgoing, gorgeous bundle of crazy, who is turning our world upside down.
I decided to write this blog for a number of reasons; primarily for the benefit of my sanity but also to satisfy my ambition to do something creative. I’ve longed to scratch that part of myself (so to speak) for some time but never had the head space to think about it seriously. Long days at a desk have never left the capacity or nervous energy to write down any of the internal monologue that jibbers and jabbers away through my brain, day in day out. Even though time has become even more precious of late, it’s perhaps time to combine my creative urges with a record of these early times with Mrs DB and B.
I also hope that one day B may decide to read some of the inane ramblings of his old man. Not for any kind of narcissistic pride on my part but hopefully to help him understand some of his own story and a part of his life that currently must be full of fear, confusion and, seemingly, dinosaurs. Adopted children have so much to deal with throughout their lives and I hope getting a little insight into our early days together helps him to understand part of his life story.
I don’t intend this blog to be a sugar coated depiction of our new life. There have already been some highs and lows and I’m keen to tell both sides of the story. Although, so far, the highs far out way the lows and I can’t wait for our future together.
Watch this space…