A friend asked me why I didn’t talk more about my first and future born child. Well, for one thing, it’s a secret that my wife wishes to keep until after the we’ve entered the safety zone. But more importantly, I’m not sure what I am feeling.
I know what I should be feeling; joy. Should be feeling joy that this beauty of life is about to take me being a man to another level. That I should be feeling happy that the love my wife and I have will not be diminished for each other but be multiplied in this new creation. That I should be elated that when friends, family coworkers find out, they will be showering us with love and attention relentlessly (only to stop when the baby is born).
That’s what I should be feeling, but if I were being totally honest I’d tell you that I’m having a mild meltdown. Inside the large boardroom on the top floor building of my mind all the heads of managements who were previously smoking their cigars and LOVING LIFE all are sweating bullets. These powerful men with their largesse of time and energy and finances toward our bachelor lifestyle are sitting in stunned silence; paralyzed by something as small as a peanut.
This small little unseen…thing, will impose its will on me. Its very existence threatens the comfortable life I’ve set up by usurping my schedule and finances. The reality of sleepless nights and leaking, liquid feces and sour, acidic vomit on me are like some kind of horror movie. Maybe my perspective will change, that it’ll become like a comedy starring Hugh Grant and Julianne Moore, but right now all I fear is that this thing growing inside my wife is going to F$@K $#!T up!
I have a garden that’s recently come back into my possession. But it’s a special garden, one under glass that I can’t touch directly, I can only feed it occasionally, give it light.
It’s recently had 2 large weeds ripped out of it. 2 weeds that took up a lot of my garden’s water and sunlight. And this garden looks pretty sad with its large…bald spots missing from it. My beautiful garden is struggling to grow back into its own but it’s lived so long with this Harvest Yellow colored weed and this Mahogany colored weed that it no longer wants to grow free of these parasites. H and M over-run it still and she’ll never grow as long as she doesn’t get rid of them completely.
These small pieces of them just grow back and grow stronger, choking her till she tries to live without them, but with none of their strength, just something not dead but not fully alive. I can’t do anything except to feed her and give her sunlight…she has to fight them off by herself.
…of which may have been asked silently.
“Why are my co-workers so determined to make me fail at my job?” (To myself)
“We were being dramatic, weren’t we? Don’t our co-workers really love us?” (Self questioning)
“How long do you think people are going to look at this zit?” (Guy in the mirror)
“Do you realize that by you emphasizing how much and how often you know something to be true, that you’re subtly saying, ‘I know the rest of the world doesn’t believe’ and that ‘It’s only true to me'” (To the Mormon missionary on my living room couch)
“Why am I inviting these guys back? Why do they want to come back? They know they’re not going to convert me right?” What am I doing with my life? (Self questioning)
“But then again, who else is going to expose them to the one, Church founded by Christ?” (Catholic guilt to myself)
“Do you think the best days of your life are behind you?” (While reading a friends blog)
“Why would you think ANYONE will want to read this runny, unformed, word diarrhea?” (While reading random blogs)
“Why would anyone want to read my blog/posts?” (To myself)
“Are we really going to open this bag of chips?” (To myself)
“Did we really just eat this entire bag of chips?” (To the fatty in the mirror)