Here for a good time and a long time.

I have a baby now.

Hey friends.

On Monday 22nd July it was officially two weeks until Grace’s due date. Some friends from our antenatal class came round for strawberries we had picked from a farm that weekend and lent us a hypnobirthing book. I read the first few chapters that night and started to write a poem combining some of the affirmations that felt relevant to us so that I/we could recite them in the run up to and possibly during labour.

On Tuesday 23rd July I decided that I wanted to be more prepared for when the baby came, and that other than my final four tour dates I would essentially be on paternity leave from tomorrow, I would just finish a few things off my to do list including my July newsletter and then everything else could wait. That evening Grace suggested we should test-run inflating the birth pool at home and seeing if the hose connects to the tap okay and reaches all the way downstairs, as I was leaving for Brighton, London and then Liverpool the next three days.

On Wednesday 24th July at 1am I hear Grace calling my name from the toilet as it appears that she has gone into labour. we call the midwife to check and she confirms that it is now only a matter of time before the baby comes. Adrenaline takes over my body and I realise that I also need the toilet but can’t possibly ask Grace to budge up so open the back door and briefly consider taking a shit in the garden before pulling myself together. We are advised to try and get some sleep if we can and after a moment of weakness that involved googling how common it is to go into labour and then have a lovely chill time for three days before picking up where you left off 72 hours later I go ahead and postpone my remaining tour dates via emailing the venues in the middle of the night and hoping they understand (they do!). At this point we have given up on sleep and instead watch a few episodes of the West Wing while timing Grace’s contractions on an app I had hastily bought for £4.99 because the other option was a free one that based on the reviews could pop up with ads at the crucial moment.

At 5am the app changes colour and tells us Grace is now in active labour. We call the midwife and she heads over, as we start to set up the oh-so-recently tested birth pool.

At 6am we send a message to the Whatsapp group we had set up comprising of 78 different friends and family members we had sent candles to in the post, to light and offer up a prayer or thought as we welcome our child into the world. The message is slowly met with candle and fire emojis like a modern day Lord of The Rings ‘The Beacons are lit!” moment. This is one of many many things that causes me to cry my eyes out over the course of the day (and pretty much every day since).

From 6:30am every time Grace has a contraction I read her the poem. In between contractions I read her messages friends left in sealed envelopes at the alternative baby shower we held a week and a half earlier (and cry a bit more). I also offer sips of Lucozade/water/toasted bagel with marmite and keep tweaking the poem because I thought I would have had another week or two to work on it by this point.

At 10:00am a friend knocks on the door with emergency snacks because they know our love language is crisps. We do not answer because Grace is mid-contraction and the front door opens directly onto the birth pool so they leave it on the doorstep.

At 10:10am a passer-by knocks on the door to tell us there’s a bag of snacks on our doorstep and we should really take it in before somebody nicks it.

At 10:15am the postman knocks on the door to deliver a t-shirt that I ordered over the weekend that in this moment feels like poor judgement on my part.

At 10:30am a Jehovah’s Witness knocks on the door and the second midwife politely tells him it might not be the best time, but he at least makes sure he hands over a leaflet before being turned away.

At 10:55am our baby boy is born at home. I catch him underwater and Grace opens her eyes for the first time in four hours. He opens his eyes for the first time ever. I cry some more and then get in the pool with them, and nothing will ever be the same again.

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A Hypnobirthing Poem

Just as the night knows 
to make way for dawn,
I trust that my baby 
knows how to be born.

Just as the moon knows 
to orbit the earth,
I trust that my body 
knows how to give birth.

Every surge brings me closer 
to meeting my baby.
My baby will come 
when my baby is ready.

The whisper of wind 
as it moves through the trees,
A singular leaf 
as it floats in the breeze,
I feel calm, relaxed 
and at ease.
Exhale tension, 
inhale peace.

There is nothing to be scared of.
There is no reason to hide.
My birth partner is by my side,
and on my side.

The sea has no need 
to compete with the sky
My birth is powerful. 
And so am I.

My baby will be born 
calmly and safely.
I trust my body, 
I trust my baby.

My baby will be born 
calmly and safely.
I love my body. 
I love my baby.

Paternity Leave

The joy of being self-employed is that I have had a word with my boss and I will be taking 6 months off to hang out with my baby. I have started a different new poem every day so far and not been able to finish a single one, but I trust that time will come. The exception to this is I am still running my monthly nights in Margate from October and I have rescheduled my remaining four tour dates including adding an Extra show in London on October 4th if you didn’t manage to get tickets first time around (This is the third show added as the second sold out in 24 hours so I wanted to give you trusty newsletter readers first dibs!). There are also a couple of other things I agreed to before I settled on six months off (and the option to say yes to anything that feels especially fun). I will then be doing a proper tour from spring next year, which there will be plenty of time to bang on about in the run up. Mainly in the meantime I will be focussing on smelling my baby’s delicious warm head, keeping him alive, and writing some more poems, as well as giving this newsletter a bit more time once I’ve found a bit of rhythm.

Other Bits

I wrote a poem for the Olympics! And then had a baby come 12 days early so I could watch the entirety of the olympics with him. It’s celebrating different accents around the UK, it was such a fun concept and they did it to a really high level, you can watch it below. Thank you everyone who came out to the tour gigs, Manchester was expectedly the grand finale as we postponed the last few, and it was an absolute banger to finish on - my glorious support act Helen Heckety’s debut novel is out now. Next years tour is mainly going to be based around places we have friends so I can bring Grace and baby along, but Brighton is on sale already. I’ve put up the penultimate episode of last season’s Something Borrowed with Laurie Bolger and at this rate I’ll have the final one done just in time to kick off again in October. I’m sure loads of other stuff has happened that felt important at the time, but it’s all a bit of a blur now !

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Final Thoughts

I’m still figuring out how much to share or not about our baby. In part because last month I shared my poem about how hard it was to get to this point and I’m not sure if people who followed me after that will want to suddenly be bombarded with baby content, but also because he feels precious and new and Grace doesn’t really trust the internet/he’s not able to give his permission in the same way that she is just yet. This newsletter has always felt like a safer space than social media so I will share some poems and thoughts as they come to the surface if you’re up for it, but I’m holding off on posting pictures/his name just yet. My gut says that I believe in vulnerability and playfulness as a way of connecting and I’m currently feeling more of that than ever so I’m sure there will be plenty to come. In the meantime if we are friends and you have my number feel free to message because I have literally hundreds of images that I can send you because I’m obsessed with him.

Stay Brilliant x