So "we" are pregnant. (I have always found the "we" in that sentence ["you know...the royal 'we'...the editorial"] to be a bit odd because, unless I need to retake 4th grade health class, I myself am not pregnant. In fact, just the other day one of the guys in the shop remarked about how much weight I have lost. So my healthful glow is the result of NOT having something growing inside me, which is a good thing.)
Tangent. Sorry. I do that.
Anyway, yes, my wife is the one pregnant, which is a wonderful thing. We have been trying to conceive for a couple months (my wife, bless her heart, could probably tell you exactly how many nanoseconds it actually took) and we finally did it. I have to admit I am kind of impressed with myself. I impregnated someone! Part of me thought it would never happen; I couldn't say why, exactly. "Men's intitution," which turned out to be WRONG, which perhaps tells you something about men.
My wife came back into bed on a Saturday morning, literally shaking, after having gotten up to use the facilities. I was still half asleep, roused only by the vibrations of her excitement. "Honey?" She said. I honestly thought she was going to ask me if we could engage in a little morning delight. Man, was I wrong. "I'm pregnant." I will never forget her face. You know those hacky expressions: "the whites of their eyes" and "eyes big as saucers?" Well, I think whoever the individual was who coined those phrases must have been refering in some part to his newly pregnant wife or girlfriend, because my wife looked as though she could have blasted off into space.
I hugged her, held her and then laid on my back for about 20 minutes, just staring at the ceiling. I don't believe I blinked once. "Holy shit. I'm going to be some snotty little kid's FATHER. Christ."
For about 48 hours, I was pretty much a total wreck. You see, I posit myself as this supremely logical being. I realize I'm not from planet Vulcan or something, but I have learned the hard way that when things happen, the best possible solution or course of action is more often than not to take a step or two back, view the larger picture, and make reasonable and decisive decisions based on objective observations.
Lies, all lies.
I'm an extremely emotional person, certainly more so than most men and perhaps even more so than some women, which may explain why I have always felt more comfortable around women than men. This contrived machine of logic through which I extrude every quandary, problem or issue is a stop-gap. Up to my own natural devices, I would probably just maniacally vacillate between laughing and crying for the rest of my life.
I am also pretty much a pessimist and manage to always focus on the bad or difficult facets of a given issue rather than the joy. Reading the paper the Sunday morning after my wife informed me of this change in our lives, I literally wanted to cry at all the sadness, suffering and misery in this world, into which I was so SELFISHLY ushering this new life.
This state of mind soon past.
Now, I'm excited, yet still--ahem--PREGNANT with doubts. I'm slowly allowing this new joy to permeate my being. It's not going to be all puppy dogs and ice cream, but my wife's and my motto for this is: "We are going to do the best we can with what we have." I think that's a good start.
The thought that pricked me out of my dejected stupor/funk? The fact that even though this baby is not even a month old, barely the size of a peanut inside my lovely wife's uterus...I already love Baby Peanut more than anything or anyone I could possibly fathom in ten thousand lifetimes.
Weird, huh?
1 comment:
Women have an amzing gift to share with one another, whether it be gossip, sad or scary or sweet times or even our hokey little hopes for flowers at work or a new hair color - and we don't just share, we share and then we discuss...and discuss...and discuss some more and then call our other girlfriends and ask them if they want to get in on it - or that's how most girls do it. I find myself on the more guarded side and actually, quite often have anxiety over sharing personal thoughts with others...or even facts. Javier and I are dating again - my niece is going to be working with me - and it's not that I am afraid of the reaction or approval - I'm just happier in my world alone - somehow sharing, can take part of it away, whether it be good news or bad - Except for Simona. Ahhh...yes, this is where my comment about you comes in - Simona is my sister and I not only want to share my life with her, I need to share my life with her - and in time, I have come to trust her husband, and in a world completely separate from my best friend, I enjoy sharing my life with him as well. Tonight, I sat and read your posts, an insight to my friend on a level you and I don't find ourselves on often. I read them all, enjoyed them all, but as I read your life from present to past, I anticipated reading your first confessions on fatherhood - Brian's story of that wonderful moment when your wife gave the news. How perfect it was the last one I read - the first you wrote - I have to say, I felt the same pride and sentiment and utter happiness as I did when Simona first shared the news with me...and again...tears were brought to my eyes. So...dear friend...thank you for sharing with us all
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