Songs For Your Mother Gordon MacMillan (good books for 7th graders .txt) 📖

been if Lauren and I had still been a couple when Luke was born. We would have been one of those young families, muddling through, trying to get by, and making it up together as we went along.

Talking to them has been a reminder of what I have lost. There’s a positive side, as well, as it drives home again what I have gained.

I don’t mention my story to the men I speak to. If they ask, I tell them. I don’t share the specifics, as I want to hear their stories and not focus on mine.

Of the four, only one had planned it, and the other three were via the usual biological accident route. To a man, they all say that while it can be challenging, a day-by-day trial of endurance and a battle against exhaustion as one put it, they also get a lot out of it.

I realise my questions are rooted, to a degree, on the things I have missed out on. The moments that I did not experience, and which I will not get back.

I ask them, for instance, what have been the hardest moments. The battle to get their babies to sleep and to eat are the common themes.

‘How does your kid sleep?’ one guy asked.

‘Like a baby,’ I told him.

What I didn’t say, and what I was thinking, was that Lauren did that. She did it on her own and got through it all to produce this perfect boy.

As well as the hard parts, I have loved hearing them talk about the best bits too. One told me that it is the smiles and laughter he gets from his daughter during the day.

‘They mean so much, and when I was single I could never have imagined thinking something so simple as that could mean so much,’ he said.

While I’m a natural-born journalistic cynic and would expect them to say that, I also believe them. It’s something I’ve experienced; Luke has the most joyful of smiles, unfiltered by life and the world.

The big difference between them and me is that none of them is doing it on their own. They are all families, and that makes me incredibly sad. So, while we are alike, we are also different. It’s a reminder that despite being lucky to have a support network, I’m singular and alone in all of this. They one and all praise their partners to the max for knowing more, doing more and generally being better at it than they are.

One even went as far as to say, ‘I couldn’t do it on my own, be a single dad, it would just be too much. I don’t know how women do it.’

When he said this, I felt all the emotions. I was momentarily crushed by their weight, and hit by the absence of everything that has been lost. It made me think about Lauren and wonder where she is.

I’ve taken to leafing through an old US travel guidebook. One of the books that Will and I had with us on our road trip along the 101. It was among the odd items that made it back to the UK with me after the crash. I do it for nostalgia and turn the pages in idle moments as I let my mind drift away from work.

Mostly I’m hoping that somewhere, someplace along that route, will leap out at me, and will shout loudly that this is where you’ll find her. This is ‘X’, this is the spot, and this is where you and Luke need to be. As if the book might have mystical powers and will deliver some cosmic direction. However, the pages remain flat, they do not shout to me, they give away none of their secrets, at least not today.

As I’m sitting typing away, my phone goes, and it is Susan. I know she is checking up on me as my deadline is on Monday.

‘How’s the fatherhood piece going?’ Susan asks.

‘It’s Saturday,’ I say.

‘I know, but you said you were working on it. Besides, you know I like to check in on you.’

‘That is true,’ I say.

I know it isn’t only that. This is another sign of how my life has changed. The two of us would have probably met up at some point today at the Shakespeare Café and had a coffee. With Luke here, and my mum and sister visiting, it hasn’t happened. We do it some weekends, although I’m with Luke when we do, and my attention is always on him.

‘So, how are you getting on with it?’ Susan asks.

‘I’m getting a lot out of it, a lot more than I thought,’ I say.

And it’s true, I am. I haven’t spent much time speaking to other dads. My parent friends are all women.

‘See, didn’t I tell you that you would?’ she says brightly.

‘You did, but you only told me that so you could get me to start writing about Lauren and Luke. You are exceedingly transparent.’

‘I know, and you like that about me. With me, you know what you’re getting. I’m overhanded as opposed to underhanded. Plus, you know I’ll never sell you out, that’s one last thing to remember,’ Susan says.

‘True, and yes, I am almost done. I will have it to you on time,’ I say.

‘That’s all I wanted to hear. Look, I have to go. I know you don’t want to do the column thing after the whole Mumsnet incident but have a think. It’s such a great story. Maybe there’s another way to tell it.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ I say.

‘You know that’s the right answer. Speak later,’ Susan says and hangs up.

What I don’t say to Susan is that there is no way I am going to write that column. At least not at the moment. My mother is right, Luke isn’t something to exploit for my own career.

I did it before about dating, and that had gone badly. I don’t have the right to inflict that on Luke, or on the two of us.