It was the middle of the night when my partner told me. Peering through my sleepy eyes, and under the blanket of darkness, I stole glimpses of her navigating through the obstacle course that is our bedroom. I felt the stillness of the cold night air billowing as she gently tapped me on the shoulder and then, with a tender smile, she offered me what looked to be a pen, a pen that would write the next chapter of our lives together. I was going to be a Father. She, a Mother. We were going to be a Mummy and Daddy. In that moment our lives, status, relationship and identity changed. In that moment, we were experiencing a life transition.
Transitions happen throughout our lives with some being chronologically expected as part of a life course trajectory. Indeed, it is suggested that early transitions can influence future ones, thus, making it important that the initial ones are positive. For my partner, some of her childhood transitions were positive and others less so. Those that weren’t positive led to her being Looked After and Accommodated. According to life course theory (LCT) my partner’s earlier transitions might result in potential difficulties during this journey into parenthood. However, LCT fails to consider the importance of latter interventions in altering life trajectories, and instead focuses on transition as an individual process. Yet, neither my partner nor I are experiencing this transition alone. In fact, it is how we as a couple, and not as individuals, recognise the multiple and multi-dimensional transitions that we are encountering together, which helps us to support one another through our pregnancy, albeit a Covid-19 one.
Initially our pregnancy started like many others, we read baby name books attempting to settle on one, or two, or three names, and purchased multiple items for the nursery. After our first scan we shared our news with our close friends and family; my partner’s friends even started organising a baby shower. In that time, we were slowly grappling with our emerging identities as a Mummy and a Daddy-to-be. My partner and I would often ask one another, “…can you believe that we are going to be parents – I hope we will know what to do…”, “…should we raise him/her as a vegetarian?” and “…should we get the baby christened?”. This was, in part, our attempt to forge our new identity together based upon our perceptions of our skills, characteristics, competencies, values and beliefs. However, this identity change was a gradual evolution where we attempted to piece together our pasts by remembering, reviewing, organising and discussing them with our friends and families.
The social recognition of being pregnant required us to share our life experiences, and depending to whom we were speaking, our medical histories. Some might find this easier to do than others. However, for us, especially my partner, this raised several issues. For example, explaining her childhood to strangers was difficult as it required her to reflect on her childhood which, in turn, raised questions about her self-awareness, identity, self-esteem, competence, autonomy and social support when she was a child and subsequently now as an adult. However, by speaking with our families, sharing photographs (some rather embarrassing ones of being bathed in the kitchen sink), and listening to the advice of others, offered us the reassurance that we needed as we grappled with our emerging parental identity.
Over the next three to four months we started to plan our antenatal classes, signed-up for mother and bump events, and even attended some pre-birth yoga classes. My partner and I respectively joined mums/dads-to-be apps and we both read numerous parenting books. Preparing for the birth, we bought our pram and multiple other things, which I’m still struggling to understand what they are for, though I am assured that, “We can’t do without them!”. Next, we started to imagine going on visits to cafes, parks, and seeing our families cuddle and kiss our little one. In doing so, we were planning and imagining what kind of parents we might be by speaking and interacting with others while acknowledging the social structures which we were a part of.
Then it happened. Covid -19. Lockdown.
When the First Minister spoke to the nation informing us to socially distance, everyone’s lives changed – we were all experiencing a collective transition. For my partner and I, it meant the end of the face-to-face support we had enjoyed and often needed. Over the next five weeks it became clear that we weren’t going to attend the groups and events that we planned. Nor were we going to share our little bump gradually growing bigger with our friends and family. Sadly, the baby shower was cancelled, and my partner recognised that all the expectations that she had for our pregnancy and her maternity might be at best stalled, or at worse never experienced.
As the weeks rolled on, my partner attended midwife appointments alone and we learned that our baby’s growth curve was stalling. During this time, curves became important to us. On one hand, we wanted the Covid-19 one to flatten and on the other, we were desperately hoping for our baby’s growth curve to rise. To support us the hospital offered additional scans. However, to minimise the risk of infection, my partner was required to attend our hospital appointments alone, without me there to hold her hand. In addition, we couldn’t attend our antenatal classes as all, but essential midwife appointments have ceased. Also, we have just learned that I will only be allowed to attend the delivery, and then asked to leave. Right now, it is hard to comprehend being apart from one another, especially at this most significant life event, and the potential loss of initial bonding as a new family.
Looking to the future, we recognise that there will be reduced services and that our family/friendship networks might not be as hands-on as we might have hoped for. The idea of my mother and father not being able to initially hold their grandchild is heart breaking. However, as time has passed, we have grown to consider the term ‘lockdown’, with its negative connotations, as an incorrect description of our experience. Language is not neutral, and it is important that we are not collectively oppressed by this conceptualisation. Instead of using ‘lockdown’, my partner and I have opted to use a more positive term – ‘opening up’. In doing so, we have begun to appreciate our time together more than we have ever done. It has enabled us to dialogue and listen to our hopes and concerns with one another about parenting and our relationship more generally. This has been possible, in part, due to the uninterrupted time created during Covid-19. For example, due to now working from home, I no longer have my weekly commute to and from Aberdeen, where I live for part of the week. In turn, it feels like I have additional space for family time enabling my partner and I to cherish our baby’s early developmental milestones which I might have otherwise missed.
Sharing these milestones with our family is important to us, and we were initially fearful that we wouldn’t see or hear from our parents during this situation. However, through video call apps, my parents are now calling us daily – something that we wouldn’t have normally done – just seeing them and knowing that they will be able to share in our joy is in itself joyous. Indeed, my parents have actively taken to the digital world and we receive multiple gifs, videos, jokes, photos and voice notes from them. I can’t over stress how they have adapted to the digital world. When I spoke to my Dad about this he simply said, “How else would I see my baby [grandchild]? I just had to learn how to do it.” This comes from a man who has previously been unable to send a text. Therefore, we might be socially distancing, but we are now digitally connecting.
Another positive to ‘opening up’ is our wonderful midwife. She has helped with multiple phone calls/texts, pointed us to digital antenatal apps and websites for my partner and I to engage with. This was incredibly helpful as we were able to learn together in our own time without the distraction of other couples. Although, one won’t know if we might have benefited from the face-to-face interactions with other couples.
I started this blog, by suggesting that the pregnancy test kit which my partner presented to me was like a pen. In 1965, Bob Dylan wrote the song, ‘The Times They Are A-Changin’, where he said,
Come writers and critics, prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon for the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times, they are a-changin’
As a transition researcher, I attempt to use my ‘pen’ to write about the positive aspects of transitions as they aren’t necessarily negative for everyone. In writing about our pregnancy, I hope that my partner and I will continue to keep our ‘eyes wide’ and cherish this moment together, – ‘the chance won’t come again’. Indeed, I hope that we will continue to maintain our positivity through this and future life transitions. While all the time remembering what Bob tells us, ‘The Times They Are A-Changin’, or should that be, ‘The Times They Are Always A-Changin’.
I’d like to thank my partner and our ‘bump’ for helping me write this blog.
Will is a lecturer at the University of Aberdeen. He is the Subject Lead for Drama Education at primary and secondary levels. Will publishes on and supervises research projects regarding Drama Education, teacher education and transitions.
Image Copyright: William D Barlow
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Wishing you both all the best, as you transition into this momentous journey together. What an eloquent and heart warming blog. As a trainee Dramatherapist, we talk about the importance of transitions very often. Take care of one another, as you enter this new adventure together.