The Story So Far

A little more than two years ago, I met Ms again for the first time. For the second time.

Shit.

A little m…

You know what? Screw it. Let’s just cut right to the main storyline:

“And that’s when the dwarf wrangler said, ‘Oh no, Mr. Luck Dragon, Atreyu is MINE!’”

Wrong storyline. *flips pages frantically* Ah, here we go.

Over the last two years, I’ve had a number of Very Good Days. More, in fact, than in the previous 38-odd years combined, I’d say. I could be wrong. Very Good Days are pretty easy to come by when you’re 4. Just get some extra ice cream and suddenly you’re living in a goddamn toilet paper ad.

So let’s start when I was, oh to pick a number out of thin air, 8. A lot of things changed for me when I was 8. Family splitting and scattering across multiple time zones (and we’re not talking any Mountain Time BS here). I started zipping around the planet, as often as not on my own, to see the family diaspora.

What does this have to do with pregnancy and fatherhood? It’s simple, really.

I’ve had an interesting life. More than my share of interesting. I’ve lived in multiple countries, flown planes in loops, yanked a baby sheep out of a mother sheep, nearly tackled a sitting US senator. I’m pleased with my life.

But I haven’t always been happy with it. For a very long time, I was isolated in more ways than I can properly describe. Comes with the territory when shuttling between parents means shuttling between continents. I lived my life, made very good friends, but was always ready to rely on myself as my only constant companion. Didn’t always have to, but was always ready to.

We’re coming to the bit about pregnancy, just hang on.

So then Ms came into my life, for the second time. Sort of. It’s all very complicated. Anyway, blah blah, two years of endless joy and blah blah.

What? I can’t blah blah that bit? Fine.

Two years of which any given day could take the place of some entire years, as far as bliss goes. Blah blah.

Today was one of those days. Up at a sensible hour to feed the animals. Ms went off to work (a rare Saturday commitment), I played with the dogs and cleaned the kitchen floor and did other miscellaneous odds and ends. Ms came home just as I’d finished sucking down last night’s Chinese food leftovers. And then we packed the dogs up for an enrichment day at the dog park. Down the Interstate, up the highway, mild cursing as I realized I’d gone the wrong way, a mad caper of trying to get turned around in a state that fully embraces the U-turn as a standard driving tactic EXCEPT RIGHT IN THIS SPOT BECAUSE OH NO THAT WOULD BE TOO GODDAMN EASY. *inhale* Across the causeway, up a bit of highway again, mild cursing again as we missed our right turn due to construction. And then we were at the dog park. Took the girls off their leashes and wandered for a bit. Lovely.

And then we got in the car and, on a whim, after finding a place for my increasingly bladder-challenged other half to pee (and, y’all, she’s starting in the shallow end of the kiddie pool in bladder terms, if you catch my meaning), we crossed another causeway to a state park with a dog beach. Left the dogs on their leashes this time, but had a mesmerizingly wonderful … moment.

Top it off with some exceptionally good Mexican food and a weird movie chaser, and you’ve got a nearly perfect day. The sort of day you get married for.

(Sidebar: today is Gasparilla in Tampa, which means beads, alcohol, pirates, vomiting, crawling, etc. Juxtaposing that with our day makes me … well, maybe I’ll go into that some other time. For now, we’re talking about happiness.)

Which brings us to the pregnancy.

I’m happy we’re having a baby. Over the moon, really. It’s going to be one of the most important things in my life, this fatherhood business.

But I’d be lying if I said today (and the many, many days like it) didn’t settle a bit heavily in my gut and leave me wondering what it’s going to be like after Critter arrives. I want to make one thing crystal clear: I. Am. Happy. We. Are. Having. A. Baby. As I’ve touched on before, I am expressing the feelings that occur to me unbidden as a father-to-be, not expressing any coherent perspective that I’ve adopted with respect to the same. So, Critter, if you’re reading this, yes I’m thrilled you’re with us, and no I don’t regret it.

But Critter is a weirdly theoretical concept still. I see my wife growing, I see Critter on the sonogram, I even feel Critter squirming around in there, and I’m joyously happy, but it’s all still a highly mediated experience. To state something again with different emphasis: I’m happy we’re having a baby. My connection with the baby is still … well, gestating.

And when I compare my immediate, present feelings about the baby to those about my present, flesh and blood spouse, I’m left asking perhaps that most dangerous of questions: are we still going to have this when the baby comes?

(Remember: exploration of emotional states one level of organization up from a stream of consciousness. When I hold the little beastie in a few months, none of this will apply. Well, mostly, but read on.)

The answer comes in the form of two directives, I think:

1. Make damn sure that you take time for each other.

2. Make damn sure you never, ever, ever, ever are jealous of the child for taking anything away, because you’re gaining … so much.

The first is easy to dispose of. There are books and books covering that subject. Most of them have multiple subtitles and appalling typography. I can sum up my own approach thus: be parents, yes, but don’t stop being partners, lovers, friends, etc. I’m not suggesting it’s easy, but it has the virtue of being simple.

The second? How could you be jealous of your child, right? I hear it’s pretty common though, acknowledged or not. I mean, I’m starting from a significant assumption: that you like your spouse. If you don’t like your spouse and you’re having (or otherwise acquiring) a baby, for goodness sake stop reading this and go talk to someone qualified to help you get your head sorted out, because damn dude.

Anyway, don’t be jealous. This one is more complicated. Because, you know, interloper. The big trips you wanted to take? Off the table for a while. The boat you wanted? Well, maybe we need to put more away for Critter’s tuition.

On the other hand, you have a baby. YOU HAVE A BABY. How awesome is that? You made life! It’s like having a back yard garden that talks!

Ok that’s weird.

The negative view is, well brother, life deals you curve balls all the time. It might be something bad, like an accident or an illness, or it might be something amazing, like an irresistible job offer that forces you to at least consider moving somewhere very different. The positive view is that you’re about to have a huge perspective shift, if you’re open to it. I mean, you’re still going to have amazing, miraculous days, just with another person. Another person who loves you and you love right back.

It’s cool if you think about it.

The hard part about being a father-to-be in week 20 is that all you’re really able to do is think about it. There’s no tangible, squirming reality.

So think about it. Think about it really, really hard. Your life is not going to be anything less than you expected. (It’s worth noting that it’s not necessarily going to be more than you expected, just different.)

Maybe next time we go to that dog beach, the photo I take won’t be of our dog staring lovingly at her mother, but of our child staring lovingly at me. And suddenly it all becomes clear: it’s not just the sort of day you get married for, but the sort of day you live for.

At least I hope so. I mean, hell, the child could be a humorless little twit.

But probably not. He’s got an amazing mom, after all.