Bump In The Relationship

Relationships are odd, aren’t they?

I shall explain in this example: Kerri/Frankton – my fiancée and mother-to-be of my child – is currently sitting across the lounge from me, giggling at a viral video of models falling over on the catwalk. There she is, beautifully minding her own business.

Now, because we are in a relationship, if I want to (and I do), I could just walk over to her and give her a kiss, without any comeback. In fact, it could well be welcomed. I think.

Hold on… I am going to test this theory…


… Yes. It seemed to be welcomed. (Although she did pull a puzzled face and say, “I can’t believe how much your face smells of chocolate.)

If we weren’t in a relationship that probably wouldn’t have gone well down at all.

For example, imagine if you walked up to Katie on the Quiche counter of Tesco and gave her some loving lips; you’d be in a lot of trouble, and rightly so. (Although rumour has it that Jeff on flans is quite open to offers…)

Bump & Grind

It was in the early weeks of pregnancy that I learnt a lesson – and I suspect I may not be the first partner of a pregnant person to find this out.

Currently two-thirds of the way through the pregnancy, Frankton is keen and encouraging when it comes to me talking to or stroking her bump.

And therein lies the lesson learnt…

It. Is. Her. Bump.

The Dad Booth
Mother and Tummy Rascal heading for a night on the tiles.

Following our first appointment with the midwife, I was very excited. We both were.

The difference being that I was excited. Full stop.

Kerri was excited and pregnant. Which I couldn’t begin to relate to, really.

Honestly, as a man, it was quite frustrating.

Okay, so you’re growing a brand new human being inside your actual body, and all the organs that have nestled in the same position within you for the last 34-years are having to find new areas to settle, and your entire way of life is about to change, and the carefree nights drinking until 4am are out of your hands (for now), and you can’t eat whatever you want, whenever you want, and you feel sick constantly, and you feel tired even though you slept for 8 hours and it’s only 3pm, and you don’t know why you’re suddenly crying at the word “curtain” for no reason…

… but I want to sing Take That’s “Never Forget” to your tummy.

So we talked. And Kerri explained. And I listened and realised that, because she looked on the outside as great as she always had; inside her was a fairground of biological proportions.

Now we – she – is in the second trimester and communication is constant. As yet, Kerri hasn’t had any strangers inappropriately touching her bump, unasked. (She’s quite rightly steering clear of Jeff on flans.)

I understand this, bizarrely, happens quite a lot though. (As told on The Bump website.)

I have found that being the partner of a pregnant person is not only easy, it is rewarding and amazing. As I type, I am looking across at Frankton. She is serene. She is smiling. She is beautiful. She is…

… watching that video of models falling over again.

Do cravings come in visual form too? The learning never ends…




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