On August 27, 2013 by Kunle Barker


As it turns out having a baby is not a simple prospect, I’ve spent most of my adult life (with limited success) trying not to have a baby, so it’s a little strange to think that I’m now about to embark on an endeavour that is basically the polar opposite of what I have tried to do for most of my life. I’m hard-wired to do the opposite; I’m programmed NOT to have a baby.

We decide to start ‘trying’ in mid December. ‘Trying’ to have a baby is a strange term as there is a sense that perhaps you can’t have a baby or that there is some kind of problem. My machismo is fuelling my optimism, and I suspect that we will be pregnant by late afternoon. I’m quite certain that the first spermatozoa that enters my wife’s womb will do the job and fertilise her egg.

It’s now the middle of January and I must say that this is not the start to fatherhood that I was planning. The fact that several friends seem to have scored at their first attempt on goal has me a little concerned. I begin to worry that years of general over indulgence and binge drinking have somehow killed every single one of my little fellas. I imagine a scene of a mass murder in my testicles with dead sperm everywhere; it’s a massacre.

My wife eases the tension by explaining that there are only 4 days in which you can become pregnant. It takes her some time and three Google searches to actually convince me of this. It seems almost unbelievable to me especially as if this is true I’m perhaps one of the unluckiest First Year students in the history of the world. However, always being one to look on the bright side I quickly deduce that the best way to ensure insemination is to have sex every single day of the month, a prospect which I find very interesting, to say the least.





My wife quickly puts paid to that idea by informing me that there are sticks which when urinated on tell you when a woman is engaged in an activity called a ‘LH surge’. This apparently is a precursor to ovulation. Jokes about Mummy Bean being like Dwain Chambers, because she, “Keeps failing the piss tests,” are not received well and I get a sense that joking about anything to do with conception will be equally ill received.

As its turns out we had missed my wife’s LH surge in December, easing my worries about the state of my spermatozoa. Like an athlete preparing for a meet, I wait, bide my time, and train in order that I might be in perfect shape the next time my wife is surging.



As the day draws near neither of us can remember exactly when her last period was, which proves problematic as this date is used to calculate when to start testing. In the absence of empirical evidence, we guess, and decide to start testing. After finally deciphering the instructions of the ‘smiley face’ sticks, we take our first test. As it turns out, we have missed the LH surge again. The test shows a faint grinning face, which suggests that we have just missed the surge and so undaunted we embarked on a few days of frenzied sex. Well not frenzied in that pseudo erotic Hollywood way but in the ‘we have to have sex today, we are trying for a baby’, frenzied way. Turns out having sex every day is not nearly as much fun or come to think of it as easy as I thought.

Anyway another period and its back to the drawing board. This time I record the date of my wife’s period in my diary (that’s on my top five list of sentences I thought I would never utter), and now we know exactly when we should start testing for a smiley face. It’s now February and we are all set, but there’s a fly in the ointment. We have just come back from a very long weekend of drinking, and it suddenly occurs to us that we perhaps shouldn’t try to conceive in this state. On top of that we have had an argument and so decide to postpone for another month, maybe forever, turns out to be just a month in the end.

It’s now March and when we get the smiley go ahead, I demand to see the stick as I can’t actually believe there is a smiley face on it. My wife jokingly proclaims that the stick she has given me is a pregnancy test. With a blank, astonished look on my face, the kind that some men get when they are told something which has surprised them, I try to process the data. This look is the opposite of the look that I should l have. In fact, they should teach men at school the valuable lesson that when we receive news that makes us want to look blank and astonished we should instead smile sweetly and say, “That’s lovely darling, wonderful news.”

I look at my wife, then at the stick, and having suddenly developed a stutter, say “But we didn’t…. I thought we missed….” I look back at the stick then my wife and utter, “I don’t understand.…” I then notice that my wife is laughing; pissing herself would be a more accurate assessment.

“Ha, you should have seen your face!” she exclaims and in between laughs starts to mimic me.

I’m still a little shocked which then turns into fury, but this is not the time and place for retribution, so I just say, “Ha ha, good one, you really got me, that’s funny.”

Sex on demand is difficult, I’m thinking, “Well, I have to ejaculate,” the pressure is palpable, it’s never been an issue before, but for some reason now it is. I’m not in the moment, I’m in my own moment concentrating on ejaculating, which of course means its becoming harder as I’m not relaxed. My wife, mainly due to the methodical way I’m going about this, is also not really in the moment, but we fight through it and eventually relax, and all is fine, this ritualistic baby making sex, which is completely different to ‘sex for fun’, is repeated for the next 5 nights.

Still no insemination.




I now turn to technology and buy a machine that is actually a little computer which analyses your samples and tells you your level of fertility, so you know exactly when to have sex. Another great feature of this machine is that if you forget to take a test (which is easier than it sounds as it has to be your first urination of the day) it uses the data already collected to predict your fertile days: a 90% success rate is claimed on the box, it’s a lot of money, but I think probably worth the investment.

Guess what. This company will not be answering to the chaps at Trading Standards as it worked first time. We are pregnant, I can’t help but think that maybe I should not have splashed out on this new gadget as I stick it in my top drawer, but I soon forget that as it suddenly hits me……………..

Yikes I’m going to be a father!

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