"At last I feel the equal of my parents. Knowing you are going to have a child is like extending yourself in the world, setting up a tent and saying “Here I am, I am important.” Now that I’m going to have a child it’s like the balance is even. My hand is as rich as theirs, maybe for the first time. I am no longer just a child."
--Anonymous Father. Ourselves and Our Children, by Boston Women’s Health Book Collective, ch. 5 (1978).
The slim white finger of plastic sat on the floor, hidden by instructions on how to use it. My wife and I were standing over it, waiting for the requisite two minutes to pass and the results to become clear. After about 4 had passed, she looked at me with anticipation in her eyes.
"I'm almost afraid to look," she said.
I whipped off the directions, and to our surpise, delight and great joy, a little "+" was there, indicating that we'd be adding to our family in a little under eight months.
That was back in June. Since then, we've surprised her parents, confirmed my parents' suspicions (though they were right for the wrong reasons), and then sat mum for two more months, not telling anyone until we could hear the heartbeat and see the child moving on the ultrasound. As you may have guessed, that window of time has come and gone, and now she and I are waiting for February 2, when we'll meet the newest member of our family, and she will become a mother and I will become a father.
I feel like I should wax poetic about being a father now, but in reality, the truth of the matter still has yet to sink in. This doesn't change any of our plans, and yet it does change them. I don't feel changed, and yet I am changed. I'm looking forward to February, and yet I'm dreading it, wondering what kind of man I will be for my child, wondering if our baby will be strong, or shy, or smart, or timid, or some combination of traits I can't think of. We're praying and hoping and waiting and worrying, and we're looking forward to being parents, and to adding to our family.
Looks like I did wax poetic after all. Sorry.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
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