The other day, one of my wonderful clients was booking her next appointment for her haircut and color at the salon. I asked what the date of her appointment was, and it turned out to be a good 11 days before my last day at work. I was surprised that I had so much work time left and searched for a word to explain my surprise.
“Everything just feels so… so….” I stumbled to find the words.
“Imminent!!” she exclaimed.
And that has become my word for this week. Maybe it’s my word for the next few years. Every moment Milton and I have alone makes me grasp to hold it tightly – these moments are bound for imminent change. Every kick I feel is one less kick I will feel with this baby inside of me. Everything precious is only precious for right this moment, and about to give way to other new and precious things, which will in turn slip away for even more things new and precious.
I looked up at him today and said, “Can you believe we’re having a baby?”
He replied, “And that baby will turn into a kid, and that kid will turn into an adult…”
“And he will be a member of our family,” I said, “And it will always be the three of us, after all this time of it being the two of us.”
It’s a pretty magical and confounding thing to realize that life as you know it is about to become completely and beautifully upheaved. It will become life as we never knew it. It will be a completely new journey that we can’t possibly be completely prepared for. No amount of book reading or closet cleaning is going to make us more aware of what life will really be like once pregnancy ends. And pregnancy ends in the not too distant future….
Milton and Sopor cuddle at dusk.
My father has been appearing in my dreams a lot lately. Probably because I feel myself overlapping with my father at this particular part of my life. When he was my age, I was 8 years old. Which, in hindsight, is halfway through my life with him, as he passed away when I was 17. But in many ways I see my parents as wise beyond their years in their parenting of me, and I only hope I can meet the bar that they’ve set. I’m gonna try real hard.
In the meantime, I am discovering that I’m also highly sensitive to the thought of “changing” when I become a father. I don’t like changing in predictable ways, and the more people say things like “oh, you’re going to think completely differently about things once you’re a parent” the more I resist those changes. I want my changes to come from inside me, and not to be guided by expectations or stereotypes or the occasional cynical remark.
That said, I’ve already become much more of a home-body, just as the stereotypes dictate. Ahead of time, even. Half because I don’t want to leave my lovely pregnant wife at home by herself and half because I feel like I’m in some kind of cocoon state that is requiring all of my subconscious resources to build new subconscious structures to help transition me into the new responsibilities and opportunities of fatherhood. That, and I’ve also become somewhat of a workaholic, at least in terms of hours. I feel like this is my last couple months to really devote myself 100% to the foundation of my self-employment, and even though I’ll be as loyal to work and career after I become a father, it will no longer be the primary recreational activity that occupies my brain. Also, I’m loving work right now and that’s pretty awesome to have. Of course, even though people don’t actually say this to me, I feel like the male stereotype of PROVIDING that complements the female stereotype of NESTING is one I should resist. Yeah, it’s all a little neurotic but that’s just the way my brain’s wired. I will do everything I can to help the family, but I will never claim to having sole responsibility for the providing, nor exclusion from the nesting. Enough about that.
Today Esther and I purchased some art supplies that we’ll be putting to use in the next week as our first joint art project. In a way, other than our genes and bodies and minds, this will be the first physical gift that we give to our future son. It’s quite fun to be able to celebrate and meditate on him through creative art projects.
My father passed away from complications from lung cancer 16 years and 2 days ago. Here he is…
One year, five months, and one day from now will be the point in my life where I have been without him as long as I was with him. In my literary mind, it makes sense to me that I’ll be at the very beginning of my own fatherhood at that point.
He was a great father. I miss him.
Something to chew on: “‘Wild Things’ is scary, but so is life”
81-year-old Sendak is my king is because of what he said during a recent Newsweek interview that was intended to promote the film but no doubt wound up offending parents all over the country. It went like this:
Reporter: “What do you say to parents who think the Wild Things film may be too scary?”
Sendak: “I would tell them to go to hell. That’s a question I will not tolerate.”
Reporter: “Because kids can handle it?”
Sendak: “If they can’t handle it, go home. Or wet your pants. Do whatever you like. But it’s not a question that can be answered.”
Sendak: “This concentration on kids being scared, as though we as adults can’t be scared. Of course we’re scared. I’m scared of watching a TV show about vampires. I can’t fall asleep. It never stops. We’re grown-ups; we know better, but we’re afraid.”
Reporter: “Why is that important in art?”
Sendak: “Because it’s truth. You don’t want to do something that’s all terrifying. I saw the most horrendous movies that were unfit for child’s eyes. So what? I managed to survive.”
Remember, this guy is 81 years old. I miss the way people used to be. A couple of generations ago, parents didn’t worry about whether kids were happy all the time or comfortable 24/7 or wrapped in protective coating. Of course, they didn’t want their children hurt. But it’s hard to imagine they would have spent much time and effort trying to keep kids from being scared.
Quite the contrary, they used to tell them scary stories at bedtime or on camping trips — usually the kind intended to frighten little ones into behaving correctly. “And then one day, all the kids who didn’t listen to their mommies and daddies just disappeared. …”
I get it. We really, really, really like our children. In fact, we love our children and we think they’re the most precious little darlings ever created, and so naturally we want to protect them. And we should protect them from some things — predators, disease, abuse, etc. But we shouldn’t protect them from all things. And we certainly can’t protect them from life. And part of life is getting scared now and then. In time, we learn to separate reality from fantasy.
And yet, while one infamous set of parents could face criminal charges for pretending their son was in a balloon, other parents think nothing of keeping their kids in a bubble.
Esther sent me the link to this article yesterday and I think we’re in agreement that Sendak is on to something here.
It’s weird trying to balance all the practical aspects of preparing for a new baby with the totally 180 degree opposite reaction of the emotional aspect of becoming a father. I probably tend to over-prepare on the practical side rather than investigate the emotional side.
Reading this lovely blog, Dear Baby, from beginning to end has reminded me that I need to also spend some time really thinking about this new life that will be joining us soon. A real live person, built from my wife and my own genetic histories, going all the way back to the first walking amoeba.
I want to write this baby songs, give it a comfortable and beautiful place to grow up, happy examples of how to live, protection from the elements at first, and then help taking them on him/herself eventually. I want to feel the feeling of its own weight push against Esther’s belly. I want to know all about this baby that’s in there doubling in size every week.
I guess since yesterday’s ultrasound I feel like this is all becoming more and more real. Real is good. Being a parent is gonna be so great.
My mother was young and vibrant. She had me at 22, during the long sunset of her first marriage- which started at 18. I remember us being best friends during my early years. Looking back, I see now that we grew up together during those early years. We were very poor during her time as a single parent. My mother worked 3 jobs to send me to a good school- where she was snubbed for being a divorcee. I spent much of my time at my grandparents’ house, where I became their 8th child and had raucous good times with aunts and uncles who were only a few years older than me.
When my mother was 28, she married my step-father. This upset me bitterly for some time. In my child’s mind, I felt as if the camaraderie I had with my mother was intruded upon by her new relationship. I am sure that I was affected in large part by the breakup of my mother’s first marriage, as well. My biological father was, to a great extent, absent from my everyday life. This anger and resentment was unconsciously projected on to my step-father until I became much more self-aware in my adult years. Now, my mother, stepfather, and I have a sound and loving relationship.
Children are so sensitive, and begin with such a small world view. I wonder what sort of issues I will unwittingly imprint on my child’s ego. I hope I will be able to make sure that my child is strong enough to ultimately see past himself in order to become a terrific success. I feel as if my husband and I have a step over the situation I was born into. We are older, well established in a marriage trust that I can’t see either of us ever questioning, much less betraying, and obviously in a much more sound financial condition than our young parents were.
When I have my first child, I will be 34.5 years old. I will have lived through my party years with a youthful mixture of bubbles and melancholy, I will have already established my career. I feel totally ready at this age to face my parenting years. I feel as if I’m still vibrant enough enough to be idealistic, which is, in my opinion, an important positive emotion to convey to my child, even as that child is in utero. I hope to be the kind of parent who is engaged, active, responsible, and actually fun. I hope to be able to protect my child from making some of the mistakes I made, or forgive my child if they walk headfirst into the mire without first taking into account my own personal story.
I know for certain that my husband echos my sentiment. I also know for certain that we are excellent partners. I am looking forward to this whole lifelong family-building business.
My father was awesome. He passed away from lung cancer when I was just 16, but we had a great relationship all throughout my life. He and my mom had me when they were both 25, 8 years younger than I am now, almost 9 by the time our baby is born, and I find myself thinking about him a lot now that I am possibly going to be a father myself.
He had a difficult life, a difficult family, and I remember him saying many times that he wanted our lives to be better than his, for us to be happier, more successful, etc than he was. He also was an entrepreneur, working in software for many years and eventually starting his own company with his best friend a couple years before he passed away. At the time, I wanted to be a painter or a genetic biologist (yeah, I know, very similar… both got to draw animals is how I saw them being related), and was applying for colleges. And now here I am as an entrepreneur in the software development / Internet industry.
My parents were pretty poor when I was born, but eventually as his jobs got better we moved to the suburbs and eventually to a fairly wealthy planned community in Southern California. I remember him saying to me in my early teens that he feared my life had been too easy, that great people are never born out of easy lives, and he wanted me to have an easy life.
As things would go, his departure sort of started in motion a long series of events that would be anything but easy. While our lives aren’t yet chronicled in the history books, it’s safe to say that life is great, and that the challenges and lower lows have helped me find a place of earned happiness that I might not have otherwise achieved.
And now, I have the chance to think about raising a son or daughter of my own. I want to be the best father just as my father was the best to me.
My mother also shaped a lot of how I see the world, and I want to make her proud to have a son that can pass on some of the things I’ve learned from her.
It’s weird making the transition from random married dude to an actual father. It makes me rethink my posture, my habits, etc. And yet, there are plenty of fatherhood stereotypes that I want to avoid.
I don’t want to be absent. I don’t want to be aloof. I don’t want to be too serious. I don’t want to be the the one that’s only around for big events or for times of punishment.
I do want to be active and engaged in every step of the process. I want to be a teacher, a leader, a role model, etc. I want to carry a full half of the responsibilities of parenthood. I want to encourage growth rather than simply be a protector. I want to give this new person every chance to be great, and to have the will power to let them also be their own person when the time comes, making their own mistakes and taking credit for their own successes.
Existing parents may scoff at my idealism, but we have to start with idealism and not compromise anything but the most necessary ideals when absolutely necessary. That’s how my brain works at least.
