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!