Good luck to the Duchess of Cambridge as the end of paternity leave looms I would sit, bovine, on the sofa, a pump clamped around my nipples during the day, so that he could feed her in the middle of the night. Meanwhile, he'd dance like a mad man with the baby. It was, at times, something strangely close to bliss. Together we would take Edie for long walks around Clapham Common, the spring sun lightly burning our cheeks and shoulders, before stopping for lunch at a café and merrily indulging in a small glass of wine. Together we'd decide what to eat that evening; together we'd usually opt for a takeaway. And then came P Day. All the books tell you about labour and breastfeeding and how to change a nappy, but nobody ever tells you about P Day. I think it should be a legal requirement that all expectant women attend "How to prepare for P Day"" classes from week 20 of their pregnancies. These classes would, essentially, be counselling sessions. For P Day crept up on me like a particularly cunning criminal. I didn't expect it to be so upsetting and couldn't fathom how much it frightened me. I cried for 24 hours before Harry returned to work. I wailed considerably more than our daughter. I quickly discovered that one pair of hands is not enough when looking after a new baby. Whole days would go by in which I didn't eat or go to the loo; showering went completely out of the window. Often, I would call Harry asking when he would be home. "But it's only 11am," he would say. I don't care! I'd weep. If we were even slightly important to you, you would come home right now. Emotional blackmail, I have found, is commonly employed by women who have just experienced their P Day. And it isn't just because you are tired and haven't been to the loo for seven hours, I think it is because you realise that, suddenly, you are no longer equal to your partner. Not in the eyes of the state, anyway. You may have earnt more than him before you went on maternity leave, but now you are a little woman, mopping up sick and washing muslins and sterilising bottles. Having given up your body for your baby, it is then presumed that you will - at least temporarily - give up your career, too. Perhaps I should be happy that Harry took paternity leave at all. According to research published earlier this week, fewer men are taking up the offer of statutory leave, probably because they are reluctant to take the hit to their salary in light of the economic downturn. But, thank God, from 2015, Britain will operate a more progressive system of parental leave. New mothers will be able to return to work two weeks after giving birth and share the remaining weeks of their maternity leave with their partner, just as they do in Sweden and Germany. Slowly, the unspoken belief among employers that women of a certain age are bound to disappear for great chunks of time to have babies will be eroded. The home world as well as the professional one will become more equal. Look at Norway, where they introduced 10 weeks" paternity leave in 1993 - there, it has been found that boys born since then do more housework than those born previously. Whoever you are - a future Queen of England, even - and however many willing family members surround you, or however much help you hire, nothing beats having your partner around to wail pop songs at your newborn. And for that reason, Catherine, I wish you the best of luck as P Day looms.