And so it begins ...

Monday June 12, 2006. The Queen's Birthday public holiday.

A fairly plain, wintery day. I'm slobbing about in the lounge room, watching TV and playing computer games. Julie is looking up something or other on the web.

On a whim, J heads down to the bathroom. I don't pay much attention - I'm fairly engrossed in trying to figure out the mechanics of how to turn chicken eggs into gold pieces on a PlayStation farming game (such are the trials of being a mature, level-headed 34 year old).

I'm half-aware of J calling my name. It doesn't sound too urgent or important. I'll just harvest the last of my crops.

J's walking down the hallway, quietly saying "Umm ... honey".

Almost there ... just one more sweet potato to pick and put into the shipping box. Oh, damn - I dropped it.

"Honey ... I'm pregnant."

Ah, well ... its just one sweet potato, only worth about 50 gold pieces. I'll just have to harvest some more of those wild truffles.

"Andrew ... I'm PREGNANT."

...

...

For the first time in my life, I was suddenly aware that the Earth rotates on a tilted axis. I also realised that despite our understanding of physics, you most certainly *can* fall off the southern hemisphere.

Julie was pregnant. We were going to have a baby. I was going to be a father.

I'd love to say that I leapt into the air, swept J into my arms, kissed her passionately before swearing my eternal love. And I guess I kind of did - but the leap was a wobble, the sweep was a stagger and the eternal love bit came out as something incomprehensible and blubbery. But the sentiment was the same.

But that, my (very) young child, is how we became aware of your existence. The next few hours were a blinding mixture of excitement, fear, anxiety, bliss, tears, laughter and budgeting.

Now - three days later - we've calmed down a teensy bit. Julie has just been to the doctor for a 'second opinion' (which was positive - blood test results pending) and I'm at work trying very hard to concentrate on anything other than you. Its difficult - so difficult, in fact, that I've given up trying.

Better instead to start a new blog (in itself, an almost work-related activity for me), dedicated to tracking my thoughts about your earliest of days. It might be of interest to you one day - or perhaps some other first-time-father-to-be will stumble across it and find some solace. But above all, it will help me get my swirling thoughts of impending fatherhood down on ... err ... paper.

So welcome to life, little one. You're only about 7 weeks old - a mere 'belly-bean' - but you already rule my world.