Reality Comes A-Knockin’, or “Freak Out Time”
All the pregnancy books and birthing classes say that at seven months, the whole having a baby thing becomes more real to dads. Bingo.
So I’m sitting in the fully-furnished nursery today (complete with a crib, changing table, dresser, book shelf, and cradle) playing with the brand new car seat (for 5-65 pounds) when I suddenly have the thought, “Holy crap, a real live tiny little person is just a couple of months away from invading my home. We’re having a baby for real!” It’s been cool to imagine having a baby and register for gifts and all, but we’ve got a real baby coming… dang! I’m so not qualified for this position. I’m still working on figuring out how to take care of myself, much less a baby.
Of course, the woman realizes the baby is real long before the man. We feel the occassional “kick” which could alway just be gas or an implanted alien. They feel the bundle of joy doing jumping jacks on their bladder. Meanwhile, dad-to-be is able to pretend that his wife has just been hitting Mickey D’s too much and has grown a really huge beer belly. Sooner or later, though -BAM!- it hits you… you’re about to be completely responsible for another human life. Despite this, God put a baby in my wife and in just seven weeks he’ll be here.
I’m still learning how to play “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on our new musical octopus!