Right now it is 8:07 Eastern, and in 14 minutes my son will officially be one week old. Last Monday, the wife and I went to the doctor for our routine 35 week pre-natal exam. We knew that the kid was standing up in the womb, and so the wife had the Doc check her. Before this happened we had been talking to him about scheduling a C-Section to deliver the kid if he didn't turn head down. So while checking her he gets a funny look on his face and then proclaims "Whoa, change in plans!" Apparently the kid was ready to come out now. So at 8:21 EST my beautiful baby boy was born to the world. This is the most exhilarating, wonderful, terrifying thing that has ever happenend to me. Looking back one week later, I now have an entirely new appreciation for parents; not only mine, but every parent I've ever encountered. I am learning that to take the family somewhere requires a 1 hour planning session,how to survive off of two or three broken three hour sleep sessions, and how to accomplish my work in two hour segments. I have a new appreciation for the female body. As a kidless man I always saw the female form in its reproductive form, beautiful and something to desire. While all of that is still true I now appreciate the amount of tolerance built in to their anatomy. To deal with all of the stresses of pregnancy, then go through the trauma of childbirth, particularly the C-Section (no ladies, natural may be tough for a while, but the C-Section is tough for WEEKS!), then put all of that aside to instantly nurture this creature that until moments ago seemed a figment of your imagination. WOW! You ladies rock. Most men start to bitch and moan if they have a particularly violent bowel movement, you guys take truckloads of pain like it's nothing. Then get up, change a diaper, type a few emails, and maybe do some laundry. Or, as in my case, make a grocery list and send the husband to the store (not that I minded, I'm here to serve).
I have to be honest folks, at the risk of jinksing myself, my kid has fallen into line pretty easily. He quickly got on a schedule, and other than randomly deciding to up his food intake, causing an alarmingly shrill cry otherwise known as the primordial scream of the pterodactyl, has really been pretty easy. His favorite pastime, other than sleeping, is to wait until mom or dad has changed him and fed him and then soil his fresh clean diaper with an incredible amount of mustard seedy poop. And of course he thinks it's funny. It's all OK for now, because is so incredibly adorable.
That kinda brings me to the perspective part of this whole thing. First of all, I feel completely inadequate to do this job. I am just kinda making random decisions and performing actions randomly hoping not to screw up, and knowing that I am going to. Second, the alarming part is that he is incapable of doing anything for himself. He is totally dependent on me for his every need. If I stumble or fail at my responsibilities as a daddy, he will suffer for it. This is the true definition of dependency. I finally understand the meaning of "faith like a child's." We are completely dependent on God for our every need. It's funny how our kids are examples to us when it should be the other way around.
So that's about it. The next installment will include a how-to guide for new fathers, as I figure I'll pretty much have this daddy thing mastered by then...........Sorry, got a little delusional there, must be the lack of sleep. Better go get some. Sleep that is. Sickos
