So… she’s on her way!

Baby time approaches, as wifey’s induction date is Wednesday @7:30am (ok, so not exactly 24 hours… shut up).

Emotions running through my mind are as to be expected by a new father I suppose.  At one moment, I’m anxious, nervous and scared… then the next moment… I’m excited, thrilled and…. well… scared again.  Hell, I’m going to responsible for a human.  ME!  The guy who’s idea of a good night is a game of video games, a room full of friends and a case of moosehead.

I don’t really expect my life to change drastically, but my priorities will change… I’m certain of that.

My child will be #1 no matter what.  I am completely happy with this arrangement and even though she isn’t even here yet… I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.

So tonight during dinner with Tiff… we were discussing the gruesome truths that come with childbirth. These mainly pertain to the various bodily fluids that are being generated in vast quantities, escaping from her body in one way or another.

While my stomach is normally iron clad when it comes to “the bloody stuff”, a wave of uneasiness came over me during this particular discussion. Perhaps it was the 60+ mussels I’d JUST eaten, perhaps it was the amount of the bill for our dinner, perhaps it was a combination of a few things.

Tiff asked me “Are you going to be ok in the delivery room?”.

Being a man, I replied “Pffft… of course.” , as my face remained grey and nausea came in waves.

It worried me for a moment, as I asked myself if I WOULD be ok.  The bizarre truth (ok, very bizarre), is that I imagine myself going through the same torment that Tiff will likely have to endure. The thought of an alien lifeform (and trust me, they look like aliens… I’ve seen the ultrasound pics) writhing around in a sac attached to my innards, makes me queasy. To make things worse, this lifeform forces itself through a passageway that needs to RESHAPE itself in order for the being to pass through.

Ok… I’ve gone too far.  *ahem*

To summarize… Tiff is incredibly strong and amazing for having carried our unborn child around for 9 months and will display even more strength during what will hopefully be a short and (relatively) pain free childbirth.

As my friends have become older, more often than not, they have also become engaged, married and eventually fathers/mothers.

I am by no means the last of my group, but I’m certainly not the first. I can assure you, this lack of hasty reproduction has provided me with my fair share of ‘tips’, ‘hints’ and ‘horror stories’ from experienced parental units. As any parent will tell you (I will likely fall into this general category within a month or two), you only speak of the bad, or rather… unsavoury moments.  The good… the genuinely good moments, are rarely discussed.

I KNOW they exist though.

I also know that I cannot truly comprehend what they mean until I experience them for myself. Baby’s first steps, baby’s first words, baby’s first swim and yes…. baby’s first experience with her own fecal matter.  (Yes, i’ve heard enough stories to know this WILL happen and just to prepare for it).

I truly cannot wait for our bundle of joy to arrive, not only to see what she’s like,  but so my wife can be comfortable and have a good night’s rest (I mean… eventually of course!).

So… Tiff has told me that our unborn baby can hear my voice, even while in the womb!  Apparently the more I speak to the baby now, the easier it will detect my voice after it’s born. This is an incredibly unbelievable fact, of which I cannot dispute.  See… Tiff has read more “So you’re having a baby” books than I’ve read books in general over my entire life time.

Which reminds me… I’m slowly getting a bit freaked out by the realization that I will be a father soon.  Yes… me.  I know everyone says life changes once you’ve had children, but the thing is, I already believe them.

I’m REALLY excited, but like my brother has constantly focused on, I cannot cross my fingers and toes tightly enough, that she turns out ok.  I don’t mean that she gets straight A’s and has plenty of friends.  I mean that I hope she is healthy and mentally stable (enough, obviously… look at her father). Autism and mental issues are far too common, which is a fright only worsened by stories, via my wife’s profession. (She works with young, developmentally challenged children).

I need to learn to not focus on negativity, which is tough. However, no matter how she turns out… I can’t wait to see what life brings this July (tentative!)