The year my mother was born, fish and chips cost 2p, the Biro pen was the height of technology, Neville Chamberlain was in charge of the U.K. and Preston North End were the winners of the FA Cup. A great deal has changed over the years. Yet some things remain the same today as they were back then. Giving birth is a difficult and dangerous affair that tests most people to their limits, and somehow the superhuman strength of putting up with the pressure and strain of giving birth then looking after a screaming demanding little bundle of ‘joy’ afterwards bonds mother and child for life. What the 3pregnantdads did was a tiny drop in the ocean compared with what mums do the world over, every single day. But it was done with the right intention; the simple joy of honouring loved ones. I hope we did Anna Jarvis proud. Happy mother’s day. MUM.

So all our mother’s are coming over to Barcelona for Mother’s Day. My mother is avidly against anything as commercial as mother’s day but given a chance to see Enzo & Leo and meet 2 other mums who have offspring mad enough to embark on this endeavour has all meant that preparations were put in place and the bag packed. As my mother’s life is so full, such preparations require a small army of helpers to replace her. My father is just as busy as he puts the finishing touches to an amazing 4-years-in-the-making documentary on The Targa Florio called ‘A Sicilian Dream’ starring Alain de Cadenet and Francesco da Mosto. He’ll have to take over a few extra farm duties and apparently he’s treating it rather too flippantly (as it doesn’t involve vintage racing cars or homemade beer).  My mother has a peculiar vanity where she loathes the camera (as it has yet to produce a single decent photo of her) yet revels in the spotlight. Mafer has been put in charge of styling, makeup and a cup of tea on her arrival.

So, with pregnant sons and their mums ready, the makings of an unforgettable Mother’s Day await.

I woke up with my wife beside me and my son making a racket downstairs, at last life has returned to normal again.

I no longer have to wear this blasted pregnancy suit. I never want to see it again quite frankly. It has been my ball and chain whilst my family were away, kept me out of trouble but it has served its purpose in other ways: I have a more thorough understanding and admiration for Mothers and mums to be. particularly my wife Mondrey who I could not love more for giving me my little boy.
Huge respect and love to my own mother who is not only my best friend but a huge inspiration to me.

Happy Mothers Day.

I’m tired, so bloody tired. Can’t really be bothered to write much to be honest. Laying down on the sofa, cushioned up and counting away the hours. It’s been an experience, but now it’s about time for it to be over, and for that, I can’t tell you how grateful I am. One more night and then the day that all this has been heading towards ~ Mother’s day. Whoop, whoop. The joy. It’s going to be odd to take this thing off, but it is going to be great to get up and walk around without looking like a clown. No more people pointing and no more explaining what we are up to. Mother’s day this year feels more like Christmas day did when I was a kid. Now time for a glass of wine and Saturday night TV.

I am over excited to see my wife and son and have had difficulty sleeping. I had set my alarm but constantly woke to check the time.

I am sure that the simulated labour contractions we were given yesterday had plenty to do with my restless night. I felt like I had been turned inside out.
I am tired and emotional and am sapped of all energy. There will be tears when I see my family again.
My wife has no idea quite how mad this month has been. Of course I have spoken with her during the ordeal but when she sees me in person with this ridiculous suit on I guess my she may consider my whinging justified.
One more day to go though and I will be rid of the suit, I wonder whether I will be bouncing around like a new born lamb when the massive weight has been removed.

So we’ve put through our electrically induced birth simulation. This involves dousing the body in water (to ensure the current penetrates to the muscular tissue) and donning a special jacket as well as  arm, leg and buttock bands and then being plugged into the mains. After the initial minor contractions which are quite pleasant, the current is increased until you are no longer in control of your body. You can fight it or surrender yourself to the voltage demons. Imagine the girl in the exorcist film but with less projectile vomiting. It’s violent and involuntary and treads on that fine line between pain and pleasure and that’s probably where any similarities with a real birth end. There’s no ripping of flesh, expulsion of body fluids (although Jason did wee himself) and no beautiful bundle of screaming joy at the end. You do however feel strangely elated and happy to be alive – like you would if you were struck by a bolt of lightning and lived to tell the tale.

What did we have to lose? We’ve lost sleep, we’ve lost inhibitions,  and maybe lost a little credibility along the way too. Although I gained 15kg’s of artificial weight at the beginning of this I’ve also lost a little of my own body weight along the way. Which is nice. So we started this journey about a month ago. Going into it pretty much blindfolded, after an over enthusiastic chat in a bar, I decided to get the suits and seal the deal. It seems like an age ago now. What have we gained by doing this? Other than the aforementioned 15kg’s I believe we have gained an unfathomable amount of knowledge. Not just what it’s like to carry this bulk and weight around, but the effect this has on everyday life. We started a debate. And discovered some of the attitudes that the general public have to people who try something different. We certainly put ourselves in the firing line during this process. Most of it however has been friendly fire. We’ve gained a different perspective on our own lives, and this perspective viewed in the right way can only be a good thing. But for me personally, I found a (slightly odd) way of expressing to my mum and wife just how much I admire and love them. Of course I could have just told them, of course I could have just made them a cup of tea, or bought a big bunch flowers with a nice loving note attached. I didn’t. Instead I did this, and I’m very happy I did. Every last moaning moment of it.

Well we reached the target ‘likes’ on Facebook and it looks like we are going to be experiencing simulated labour contractions. I was not the finale before Mother’s Day that I expected nor is it one that I am looking forward to.

I have just checked out a film on YouTube and we must be nuts to agree to this. Jonny seems to be looking forward to this and I blame him for instigating it.

At 9am we will be hooked up to a machine that uses electro stimulations to simulate contractions and experience the pains of childbirth.

As if we haven’t suffered enough over the last month. I think there might be three grown men screaming and crying in our pillows.

I am wondering whether we will be given a heavy dose of Morphine to deal with the pain.

This is going to be one mother of a day…

Only now, after 26 days of the empathy belly and just hours before our abdominal electrocution, do I read that it’s surprisingly common a father-to-be to start gaining weight, getting morning sickness and even feel cramps in his lower abdomen. The condition is known as a sympathetic pregnancy or the Couvade Syndrome (from the french word couvee meaning to hatch).  Psychosymptomatic sympathy sounds a whole load easier than 15kg empathy. But that’s the point,  empathy should be hard-earned. It’s all too easy to say ‘I know how you feel’; but to walk in that person’s shoes is different.   Anyway, there’s no time for what ifs or if only now, the end is in sight, the final push for the summit is days away, the home straight is there, and right now the imminent joy of of relieving myself of this suit forever far outweighs the pain of a few electric shocks.  I mean, how hard can it be. Bruce Lee.

Apparently a good curry and sex is all I need to help shift Bump. Sounds good to me, the curry should be a doddle, and erm, well yes, it’s coming off in a few days anyways. And as it’s coming off in a few days it seems like a great time to say thanks for all the comments, and encouragement along the way. And yes, it looks like we will be doing some kind of pregnancy simulator. I have to say I’m not very happy about it. What was a last few days of glee and joy at the idea of taking this thing off has now become filled with dread. I’m really not very good with pain. And yes I know it’s not half as traumatic as the real thing and blah, blah, blah. But I’m still not happy :(