Dear Sheryl Kyle

You've done the right thing, love. Don't have any second thoughts. Four years as Gazza's girlfriend must have told you everything you ever needed to know about what he'd be like as a Dad.

Let's face it, most men have their nose put out of joint by the arrival of a baby. They resent being booted off centre stage by some omnipresent, squalling, demanding alien.

And we're talking ordinary men here, not men who've apparently beaten you up in the past because you weren't paying them enough attention. Not men who've pinned you to the wall in a restaurant and screamed obscenities at you (that was on the eve of Mother's Day - think about it); nor men who've admitted that they used you as some kind of comfort object to hug and kiss when the football was going wrong.

And this is an obsessively tidy man. Tidiness and kids rarely mix. What's going to happen when he comes back and sees the lounge carpet strewn with toys and the kitchen like a battlefield? You surely don't need two guesses.

Yes, of course it is ideal for children to grow up cosily with both parents around them, but not if Daddy has a habit of going ballistic and making Mummy cry.

You already have kids of your own, aged five and eight, but for the past four years you know you've had another one, too - one old enough to pay full fare on the bus - a champagne-swilling toddler who bawls his head off when he loses a game, picks fights with other kids and gets hurt stretching his luck once too often.

You've been there with the sticking plaster, the forgiving words, the cuddles and the comfort, but with another one on the way you know it can't last. You already understand what real motherhood is like.

You know that in those first weeks and months you instinctively concentrate on the new human in your life, much as you may love the one who shared the creation of it.

Sod the baby books that tell you not to forget the needs of your partner after the birth. When you are almost on your knees with fatigue, the house is a disgrace and the baby won't stop crying, the last thing you'll want is to sit down and discuss the bad points of the latest game of football.

You need a real grown-up who will support you, not fly into a rage because you are supporting someone else. You need somebody who will pass the Wet Ones, answer the telephone when you're feeding and hold the baby when you go to the loo. Your eight-year-old should do nicely.

Best of luck ...