When people used to tell me that I wouldn't be ready for parenthood, despite what I would say I would often tell myself, "Who ever is ready?" and, in my arrogance, "Then I just won't have a kid until I am!"
But now we are in the home-stretch. We're on that last lap around the track and headed towards that joyous day when our baby will be born and even though I feel confident, small seeds of doubt tend to creep in upon my brain.
I want to be a good father. The fact that I will repeat some of my own parents' mistakes scares me. Sometimes with the dog I have often caught myself saying or doing something that annoyed me when my own parents would say or do it. Which leads me to confront the thought that maybe they didn't do too bad, or I need to change how I deliver the same message, so as not to do it the way they did it.
In a health class, in 7th grade, I remember reading about how during the pregnancy changes occur within the father as well. Sympathy pains and all that. However, I'm starting to notice more changes within me at the prospect of now having - not just my wife to provide for and care for - but a completely helpless little individual.
I will be feeding this baby girl, bathing her, dressing her (of course, all of this is when Jen isn't home as she has already told me she can't wait to dress her up; this prompted me to inform Jennifer that she is a baby, not a Barbie doll). Rocking this baby to sleep will be one of the highlights of my life. I know this.
And I will be cleaning up her poop.
That part, however, will be as easy as pie. After all, we've been cleaning up Jack's messes for the past 3 years.
How can this be any different?
Oh. Baby poop is like tar. Or so I am told.
Either way, parenthood is bound to be the adventure of my life and as the day draws nearer to my being a "dear old Dad," I find myself more anxious than nervous, more impatient than stressed, and more excited than frustrated.
I really am looking forward to this.
