In the beginning was the word...

... and the word was "Cheltenham".

Michele and I had been trying for a baby for a short while, without much (well, any) success. We decided to go on a small trip away, and for some reason chose a hotel in Cheltenham. What with the relaxing surroundings and Michele having long swims each day, some sort of magic happened.

Fast forward several months and Michele, having just been Godmother at the christening of baby Jack (a good friend's first child), discovers that she is a little "late". I thought this was just luck. When another few weeks went by, it was unnerving. When, one day, she appeared in the doorway with one of those "magic wands" and uttered the words "Mark, I think I'm pregnant", it was terrifying.

I looked at the magic wand and, sure enough, it showed a "+" instead of a "-". The scientist in me kicked in instantly. "Do another test", I said. Everyone knows it's about statistics...

The second one came back with a "+" as well. Oh bugger. Now we'd done it.

Parents were told and red wine was quaffed in celebration of our impending adventure. As the fuzzy effects of the wine kicked in, I sat back and tried to process this piece of news. I was going to be a Dad and Michele, the woman I loved enough to marry, was going to be a Mum...