One year ago today, my beautiful wife woke up after another painfully awkward night’s sleep and did what is customary on a birthday and opened her cards, presents and ate a large slice of cake for breakfast, writes Ben Keenan.
It was going to be a much different birthday to previous ones I’ve organised for her because certain traditions we Keenan’s recognise are not permitted while pregnant. For Jen, this meant no ridiculously hot bubble bath with the special bath salts we save for special occasions, no bucks fizz or hollandaise sauce on her eggs Benedict and nothing spicy for dinner. Jen didn’t mind one bit though, because she was due to meet our son in 10 days time and was secretly hoping that the wonderbump might make an appearance on her birthday but if not today, perhaps on Christmas Day. But as you already know, Tom arrived punctually on the day he was supposed to.
December is special for hundreds of reasons but for me, December means birthday parties for the two people my heart knows best and the most delicious meal of the year surrounded by my astonishing family. The 20th, 25th and 30th December represent all the love I could ever hope for and lifts me high above the ground at a time when physically, I can barely lift a book off a shelf but emotionally, I am hand in hand with the snowman, walking through the air. The glow from our Christmas tree as it lights up my son’s face while he stares up at us melts the ice from my car as I leave them in the darkness to go to work and I feel tethered to them all day by an invisible piece of elastic which attached itself to my heart a year ago. The next time you read this column, my son will be one year old and my ability to keep my emotions in check will have disappeared with the last of the turkey but before I go, I would like to thank those of you have said such beautiful and supportive things to me this year.
Wishing you all the happiest 2014 imaginable.