What would you put in a pre-baby contract?

They are gaining in popularity, so what do you wish you got your partner to formally agree to?

What do Halle Berry, Olivier Martinez, Beyonce and Jay-Z all have in common?

Fabulous. Good looking. Swimming in cash. Pre-natal agreement.

Yep. You read that right. Not just pre-nuptial agreements, but pre-pregnancy contracts as well.

It’s reported that Jay-Z has to pay Beyonce $5million every time she has a baby, while Halle Berry and Olivier Martinez are said to have already worked out the custody arrangements for their child in the event of a break up all by way of a contract.

Fascinating.

Just recently, US writer Rebecca Onion wrote in Slate that pre-pregnancy contracts are gaining in popularity, and not just amongst the rich and famous.

Many pre-pregnancy contracts cover what happens to a child in the event of a break up, child support, custody etc. But they also include division of household labour, caring responsibilities, financial and working arrangements.

While I am well past the point of return for a pre-pregnancy contract (3-year-old, bun in the oven) but I’m quite taken with the idea of mandating expectations around the housework. Because the laundry alone may just kill me.

So, what might I put in a pre-pregnancy contract

You have to do the first nappy.

I don’t care that it’s black and disgusting. I just carried that baby around in my body for nine months, and denied myself delicious cheese and tasty wine. Suck it up.

You have to bring me a coffee every morning.

Unless you want me to be a heinous bitch with a migraine all day, you need to provide me with an appropriate level of caffeine to help me care for your progeny. I don’t think this is unreasonable.

We share night time caring.

Look. As you’ve probably surmised from No. 2 I don’t survive especially well without sleep. It’s just best for everyone, especially you, if you help me out here

We share nappy duty.

If I have to be up to my elbows in baby poo every once in a while, so do you. This baby is half yours. This baby’s poo is half yours.

I’ll sleep in Saturday, you sleep in Sunday.

That way we’ll get at least one day each in which to languish in what life was like pre-children. By the way, a sleep is now defined as 8:30am, not 11:30am. Let’s not get carried away here!

Dirty dishes go in the dishwasher.

Not in the sink, which, by the way is not half a metre away from the dishwasher? Please. For the love of God, can the dirty dishes go in the dishwasher?

I’ll cook dinner, you tidy up the lego.

I know you hate cooking. You know I hate stepping on tiny lego pieces. It hurts nearly as much as a contraction. While you’re there, would you mind running the vacuum over the carpet please?

Date nights should happen at least once every three months.

Look, we will probably end up just talking about the kids all night anyway, but we can at least do it in a fancy restaurant, drink a bottle of wine and get some uninterrupted nookie afterwards.

What would you put in a pre-pregnancy agreement?

Want more? Try:

“I’m so happy you’re pregnant, but I can’t be around you.”

“Don’t judge me but… I’ll be disappointed if I’m pregnant with a boy.“