The eight-week countdown

The last eight weeks are the only stretch where you have time and nothing has started. Use them properly and the first month is meaningfully easier.

Eight weeks out

• Fit the car seat base and get the fitting checked. Not the week before.
• Assemble the pram and the cot. Put them where they will live.
• Book any antenatal or paediatric first aid course now, they fill up.
• Confirm your paternity leave in writing and hand over at work.

Six weeks out

• Batch cook and freeze ten meals. This is the highest-value thing on the entire list and nobody does it.
• Write the contact list: midwife, hospital, labour ward direct line, health visitor, GP. On the fridge, not in your phone.
• Sort the practical route: hospital drive, parking, which entrance at night.

Four weeks out

• Pack both bags and put them by the door.
• Fill the freezer and the cupboards. Nappies in two sizes, not one.
• Set up the nappy stations, upstairs and downstairs.
• Get a haircut, see the dentist, deal with anything on your own body you have been ignoring. That window closes.

Two weeks out

• Say yes to any social thing you actually want to do. It is the last easy weekend for a while.
• Agree the visitor policy with her, out loud, so you can both say the same thing.
• Charge everything. Buy the spare cables.
• Fuel the car and keep it fuelled.

The week before

Nothing. Deliberately nothing. Be at home, be reachable, be rested.

The thing that is not on any list

Have one proper conversation about what you are both dreading. Not logistics. The actual fear. It takes twenty minutes, it is slightly awkward, and it is the single best preparation available, because the thing you are both quietly worried about is usually easier to carry once it has been said out loud.