We’ve all seen them; the comedic sprint in the middle of the night as a panicked father-to-be grabs anything and everything in sight for his overnight bag. Meanwhile, the very pregnant mom is panting and waiting patiently. And then for comedic punctuation, something vitally important is left behind, most likely its mom, as the mad dash for the car is made.
Cue the laugh track.
Once in the delivery room, mom is sweating, grunting, and pushes a few times. Less than a minute or two later, baby appears (an infant that amazingly looks like their 10 months old) and our intrepid dad passes out.
Cue the laugh track again.
Reality however, is nothing like that.
The labor pains did increase around 2 am, and after we got confirmation from the doctor that we should head over to the hospital, we did have to scramble for the bags. But fortunately we both started packing them a few days ago, even though we thought that at 37 weeks into pregnancy, we had a few weeks more to go before the baby arrived. And that’s my number one piece of advice for an expectant father—
Be prepared, there’s no such thing as being too early.
In the triage room of the maternity ward, my wife was checked out by the nurse and determined to be only one centimeter dilated. But according to our doctor, who we just saw the previous afternoon, the amount the cervix is effaced is actually more crucial. At the appointment it was 80 percent, and now it was 90 percent. The nurse recommended that my wife drink lots of water (she eventually consumed more than 56 ounces) and walk around the maternity ward hallways for a couple of hours.
As we traversed the darkened halls I could visibly see the change in her face. The cramps that had lasted a few minutes were now increasing in length and frequency with every lap, and she grew pale as the mild cringing segued to paralyzing agony. It was a helpless feeling as I watched her grip tightly to the rails along the walls and the pain nearly brought her to her knees. Our jaunt barely lasted the requested two hours and the nurse checked again, now she was three centimeters dilated and it was a foregone conclusion that our baby was going to make her debut three weeks early.
Not long after being moved to the delivery room, my wife was quick to ask for the epidural, which seemed to work quickly and effectively at easing the pain. The stereotypical moments of anguish and lashing out at the husband didn’t happen, but she did have an intense expression that simply said, “I love you dear, but if another person comes in here and tells me to hang in there I WILL SHOVE THEIR HEAD UP THEIR REAR SO THEY CAN WATCH ME KICK THEIR A** UP AND DOWN THE HALL!”
It was a lot of sweat, groaning, pushing, and general chaos as the nurses swirled around to help monitor mom and baby. In what felt like a blur, fifteen hours had elapsed since we first arrived at the hospital before the home stretch took place, and even that took another three hours. Despite the gruelingly long ordeal, my wife showed amazing stamina and fortitude. This wasn’t just my opinion, but the doctor and nurses as well. Where she found the well of energy to continually tap into was baffling.
I mopped her brow between every push and I knew the big moment was coming very soon. Even though the scissors to cut the umbilical cord were laid out for me on a nearby table, and I could even see the baby’s hairy head crowning, I still felt numb and in a daze. A truck could have run me over just then and I don’t think I would have felt anything.
When the baby’s head finally popped out, it was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on me. There she is! There’s my daughter! A quick cry followed as she was pulled out into the world. Without much prompting, I grabbed the scissors and snipped the cord. It was a foretold momentous occasion that was easier than I thought.
The nurses moved her to a pen where she was kept warm by an overhead heater as they poked her with needles and cleaned her up. Incredibly, our daughter didn’t cry much during the procedure. The only exception was the needles, and that was understandable. Otherwise she just simply moved her eyes back and forth at what must have been to her giant blobs moving around. Could it be fascinated curiosity that I saw?
Unlike what you see portrayed in Hollywood, giving birth is bloody, and some people might describe it as messy. With the placenta coming out after the baby, and in my wife’s case, the extra stitching needed to fix her up, that description would be accurate. If an expectant dad has a weak constitution, then yes, passing out is a real possibility. My advice though, suck it up (watch some gory horror flicks like Saw to build up a stronger stomach), because in the end it’s all worth it.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Here she comes…poking out the womb
It’s less than six weeks to go now and I have to admit my nerves have jumped up a few notches lately. I keep looking at the calendar, trying to anticipate the big moment either happening as schedule (which I know is a remote possibility) or a week or two ahead of the due date of September 29th. Recently a co-worker of mine just had her baby and she was two weeks early. That event just reinforced my nervousness and the nagging feeling that my little girl is coming into the world sooner than planned.
My wife just had a fun and fabulous baby shower. I know it was because (shocker!) I was there for the whole thing. We were extremely fortunate to have a friend that not only stepped up and volunteered to organize the shower, but also cleverly incorporated games that didn’t alienate the males in attendance. For other fathers out there you may not get that lucky, but if you are asked to come to the shower my advice is to suck it up and go. The mom-to-be will enjoy the support and who knows, you may have fun opening all the gifts. Now who doesn’t have fun opening presents? We’re all still kids at heart, anxious for Christmas morning.
The baby wardrobe continues to grow exponentially, along with blankets, pacifiers, teething rings, and toys. Also in abundance at the shower was advice. According to my wife, she’s been hearing that for the last eight months. Walking around with a baby bump is not only a great conversation starter, it makes you a target for the good and bad advice about what to expect, what to do, and what other parents have gone through. Much like the three pink diaper bags we now have, we appreciate the gifts and take it all in stride.
With the birth classes and the baby shower behind us now, and our daughter intensely pushing, poking and prodding her mom’s belly, the anticipation continues to build. Next week we have the third and final ultrasound scheduled and soon after will come the weekly doctor’s appointments. September will be crunch time right from the beginning, and we’re struggling to get all our ducks in a row.
The biggest question mark that remains is still child care. We’ve visited a couple of places, both of which seemed like a warm, secure, and friendly environment. But the price tag is steep either way, and even though we’re looking only to take our child there 3 or 4 days a week, we’re still expected to pay for the entire week! This just seems like a baffling concept to us and downright highway robbery. Part time and flexible care appears to be a foreign concept to these centers. They smile and appear helpful to your questions and concerns, maybe that’s because they’re secure in the bill they’ll hand you later.
As the big moment appears on the horizon, we’re both hoping the road after doesn’t get too rough. Like any father, I just want to provide the best for my daughter, but that’s a daunting task. I’ve read in father-to-be books that money worries and longing to make more is a natural compulsion. That’s one of the few things they seemed to have gotten absolutely right. It’s foremost on my mind when I wake up and when I go to sleep at night. I keep looking at that crib knowing we have to find an answer very soon.
My wife just had a fun and fabulous baby shower. I know it was because (shocker!) I was there for the whole thing. We were extremely fortunate to have a friend that not only stepped up and volunteered to organize the shower, but also cleverly incorporated games that didn’t alienate the males in attendance. For other fathers out there you may not get that lucky, but if you are asked to come to the shower my advice is to suck it up and go. The mom-to-be will enjoy the support and who knows, you may have fun opening all the gifts. Now who doesn’t have fun opening presents? We’re all still kids at heart, anxious for Christmas morning.
The baby wardrobe continues to grow exponentially, along with blankets, pacifiers, teething rings, and toys. Also in abundance at the shower was advice. According to my wife, she’s been hearing that for the last eight months. Walking around with a baby bump is not only a great conversation starter, it makes you a target for the good and bad advice about what to expect, what to do, and what other parents have gone through. Much like the three pink diaper bags we now have, we appreciate the gifts and take it all in stride.
With the birth classes and the baby shower behind us now, and our daughter intensely pushing, poking and prodding her mom’s belly, the anticipation continues to build. Next week we have the third and final ultrasound scheduled and soon after will come the weekly doctor’s appointments. September will be crunch time right from the beginning, and we’re struggling to get all our ducks in a row.
The biggest question mark that remains is still child care. We’ve visited a couple of places, both of which seemed like a warm, secure, and friendly environment. But the price tag is steep either way, and even though we’re looking only to take our child there 3 or 4 days a week, we’re still expected to pay for the entire week! This just seems like a baffling concept to us and downright highway robbery. Part time and flexible care appears to be a foreign concept to these centers. They smile and appear helpful to your questions and concerns, maybe that’s because they’re secure in the bill they’ll hand you later.
As the big moment appears on the horizon, we’re both hoping the road after doesn’t get too rough. Like any father, I just want to provide the best for my daughter, but that’s a daunting task. I’ve read in father-to-be books that money worries and longing to make more is a natural compulsion. That’s one of the few things they seemed to have gotten absolutely right. It’s foremost on my mind when I wake up and when I go to sleep at night. I keep looking at that crib knowing we have to find an answer very soon.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Getting an education
Well, we’re half way through our four-week long birthing classes now. So far I have to highly recommend them to any parents-to-be. Now others may not have the same exact experience and be fortunate enough to have a light-hearted instructor eager share her expertise and plenty of funny anecdotes too, but the content alone is still worth the money.
Granted, there was the stereotypical gritty video of women actually giving birth. The sweat and anguish was notable, but not nearly as glaring though as the full frontal nudity. As we go from one mother to another on the video I’m thinking to myself: Is it really hot in that room? Does giving birth raise body temperature so high that women have to be in their birthday suit too? The looks of shocked faces around the room confirmed that I wasn’t alone in my puzzlement.
Later in the video we hear one couple share how wonderful the early labor stages were as they spent time going on nature walks, and chatting and napping together in between the excruciating contractions. What no hugging trees or trying to commune with fish? Afterwards our instructor offered a succinct explanation to everything by admitting she should have prefaced the whole video by saying it was made in Boulder.
Recently we covered the breathing techniques and they made sense to me. Then again, I’m not the one pushing a watermelon through a nostril. I’m just the Coach in all of this, which the instructor maintains is a vital support role for the moms. That’s kind of hard to grasp as I’m kneeling on the floor mat going through the breathing exercises with my wife and we’re both trying to keep a straight face. Nevertheless, I stay tuned (hoping neither of us hyperventilate) because I know being there for any kind of support will make a difference in the delivery room.
Speaking of which we got the grand tour of the maternity floor and that was also very helpful in visualizing where we go and how this will all play out when our little girl arrives. We were first shown the enormous delivery room, which felt very much like center stage of the action complete with spotlights on the bed. I suppose all that room is needed for all doctors, nurses, and equipment that will be trafficking in and out. Still, the size and atmosphere was daunting even now with the room empty.
Down the hall was the nursery, and as our instructor explained the arm bands and the security alarm system in place, the entire class kept looking back at the two little infants on the other side of the glass getting attention from the nurse. Even though we plan to keep our daughter in the room with us, at some point she will have to be in there undergoing post delivery tests. And when that happens, I’ll be firmly rooted outside these windows not wanting to let her out of my sight.
So dads, in the end, keep in mind that when going through these classes to try to absorb as much as you can. For me, since I have an inquisitive mind that was relatively easy. Going in, there was so much of this process that was shrouded in mystery, and now a lot of those details have been filled in.
Granted, there was the stereotypical gritty video of women actually giving birth. The sweat and anguish was notable, but not nearly as glaring though as the full frontal nudity. As we go from one mother to another on the video I’m thinking to myself: Is it really hot in that room? Does giving birth raise body temperature so high that women have to be in their birthday suit too? The looks of shocked faces around the room confirmed that I wasn’t alone in my puzzlement.
Later in the video we hear one couple share how wonderful the early labor stages were as they spent time going on nature walks, and chatting and napping together in between the excruciating contractions. What no hugging trees or trying to commune with fish? Afterwards our instructor offered a succinct explanation to everything by admitting she should have prefaced the whole video by saying it was made in Boulder.
Recently we covered the breathing techniques and they made sense to me. Then again, I’m not the one pushing a watermelon through a nostril. I’m just the Coach in all of this, which the instructor maintains is a vital support role for the moms. That’s kind of hard to grasp as I’m kneeling on the floor mat going through the breathing exercises with my wife and we’re both trying to keep a straight face. Nevertheless, I stay tuned (hoping neither of us hyperventilate) because I know being there for any kind of support will make a difference in the delivery room.
Speaking of which we got the grand tour of the maternity floor and that was also very helpful in visualizing where we go and how this will all play out when our little girl arrives. We were first shown the enormous delivery room, which felt very much like center stage of the action complete with spotlights on the bed. I suppose all that room is needed for all doctors, nurses, and equipment that will be trafficking in and out. Still, the size and atmosphere was daunting even now with the room empty.
Down the hall was the nursery, and as our instructor explained the arm bands and the security alarm system in place, the entire class kept looking back at the two little infants on the other side of the glass getting attention from the nurse. Even though we plan to keep our daughter in the room with us, at some point she will have to be in there undergoing post delivery tests. And when that happens, I’ll be firmly rooted outside these windows not wanting to let her out of my sight.
So dads, in the end, keep in mind that when going through these classes to try to absorb as much as you can. For me, since I have an inquisitive mind that was relatively easy. Going in, there was so much of this process that was shrouded in mystery, and now a lot of those details have been filled in.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Kicking it into higher gear
In the past few weeks I’ve learned quite a few things about fatherhood.
First of all, books about what father’s should expect are hit and miss. Be picky about what’s out there or you’ll end up thinking it’s a giant waste of time.
Second, feeling my child’s kick for the first time is an awe-inspiring, eye-opening, incredible experience. There aren’t enough words in the English language (or any language for that matter) to justifiably describe it.
And last, but not least...putting a crib together is a royal pain in the butt! I’ll expand more on that later.
For my birthday I received a delightful book entitled, “So you’re Going to Be a Dad” by Peter Downey. It is a funny, light-hearted tome detailing the highs and lows of fatherhood, and what to expect in the delivery room and beyond. I immensely enjoyed it and read it cover to cover in just a few days. The author included a strong encouragement to read other books and learn as much as you can. So I was inspired to go to the library and expand my knowledge.
Little did I know that not all fatherhood books are alike. Some are written with negative slants and are just downright misogynistic. They can be chock full of warnings about your wife’s potentially violent mood swings, anger spawned by her unavoidable stretch marks, disruptions in your marriage, and horrid tales about the darker side of child care centers. I even came across a passage in one book called, “If You’re Doctor Is an A**hole”, and another passage that warned about fathers turning into raging lunatics at the hospital. Really? This is the sage wisdom and advice you want to spout? My advice to expectant fathers is to peruse what’s in libraries and bookstores with a very discerning eye, and digest it with a grain of salt.
No book can do justice however to the wondrous moment of feeling the baby kick for the first time. It took many tries, and lots of patience, but I finally caught up with our ever elusive baby. At this point in the pregnancy there’s precious little room to do somersaults and cartwheels. The kicks are getting stronger week by week, and at last I felt a big one hit the tip of my finger.
WOW! That’s her! I felt her! For the rest of the night I stared at my hand in amazement. It was the kick of my daughter and of reality. It might as well have been a kick in the head.
Driving that point home more was enduring the time-honored struggle of Man versus Crib. I took to the task with much enthusiasm, but that was dashed slightly as I discovered the crucial instructions weren’t printed in a handy booklet. Instead, some twisted masochist decided to put them on a giant sticker planted on the crib’s mattress support board. Great, so when I need to reference these instructions to figure out whether it’s screw "D" or screw "K" that goes into slot "M", I have to look at one of the important parts of the crib that is going into the actual assembly! That’s like putting a car together from scratch and having to reference the instructions imprinted on the undercarriage of the car!
After receiving an excruciatingly painful pinch from one screw that resulted in a quick bandage job on my finger, numerous drops of the Allen wrench used to fasten much of the crib together, and timely assistance from my wife, we accomplished our goal. The picture that was taken of the crib and promptly posted on Facebook should have been accompanied with the musical chants of hallelujah.
Despite the struggles though, it was truly worth it. There it sits in our bedroom now, awaiting the precious occupant that will slumber there for many nights to come. And here I am, father-to-be, sore and certainly wiser than I was not too long ago about my daughter and what the future holds.
First of all, books about what father’s should expect are hit and miss. Be picky about what’s out there or you’ll end up thinking it’s a giant waste of time.
Second, feeling my child’s kick for the first time is an awe-inspiring, eye-opening, incredible experience. There aren’t enough words in the English language (or any language for that matter) to justifiably describe it.
And last, but not least...putting a crib together is a royal pain in the butt! I’ll expand more on that later.
For my birthday I received a delightful book entitled, “So you’re Going to Be a Dad” by Peter Downey. It is a funny, light-hearted tome detailing the highs and lows of fatherhood, and what to expect in the delivery room and beyond. I immensely enjoyed it and read it cover to cover in just a few days. The author included a strong encouragement to read other books and learn as much as you can. So I was inspired to go to the library and expand my knowledge.
Little did I know that not all fatherhood books are alike. Some are written with negative slants and are just downright misogynistic. They can be chock full of warnings about your wife’s potentially violent mood swings, anger spawned by her unavoidable stretch marks, disruptions in your marriage, and horrid tales about the darker side of child care centers. I even came across a passage in one book called, “If You’re Doctor Is an A**hole”, and another passage that warned about fathers turning into raging lunatics at the hospital. Really? This is the sage wisdom and advice you want to spout? My advice to expectant fathers is to peruse what’s in libraries and bookstores with a very discerning eye, and digest it with a grain of salt.
No book can do justice however to the wondrous moment of feeling the baby kick for the first time. It took many tries, and lots of patience, but I finally caught up with our ever elusive baby. At this point in the pregnancy there’s precious little room to do somersaults and cartwheels. The kicks are getting stronger week by week, and at last I felt a big one hit the tip of my finger.
WOW! That’s her! I felt her! For the rest of the night I stared at my hand in amazement. It was the kick of my daughter and of reality. It might as well have been a kick in the head.
Driving that point home more was enduring the time-honored struggle of Man versus Crib. I took to the task with much enthusiasm, but that was dashed slightly as I discovered the crucial instructions weren’t printed in a handy booklet. Instead, some twisted masochist decided to put them on a giant sticker planted on the crib’s mattress support board. Great, so when I need to reference these instructions to figure out whether it’s screw "D" or screw "K" that goes into slot "M", I have to look at one of the important parts of the crib that is going into the actual assembly! That’s like putting a car together from scratch and having to reference the instructions imprinted on the undercarriage of the car!
After receiving an excruciatingly painful pinch from one screw that resulted in a quick bandage job on my finger, numerous drops of the Allen wrench used to fasten much of the crib together, and timely assistance from my wife, we accomplished our goal. The picture that was taken of the crib and promptly posted on Facebook should have been accompanied with the musical chants of hallelujah.
Despite the struggles though, it was truly worth it. There it sits in our bedroom now, awaiting the precious occupant that will slumber there for many nights to come. And here I am, father-to-be, sore and certainly wiser than I was not too long ago about my daughter and what the future holds.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Congratulations! It’s a…girl?
My advice to first time fathers, and couples in general, when it comes to expert opinions and theories about determining the sex of your baby—take absolutely no stock in any of it. We heard the whole gamut as I blogged about before—the baby is active, so it must be a boy; the heartbeat is fast, so it must be a boy; mom-to-be is carrying the baby in this particular way (high, middle, or low) so it must be a girl (or boy). We’ve heard and read all sorts of allegedly sound theories, but the real truth is that none of it is reliable.
But we had more to go on than just old wives’ tales. Our own doctor, after last month’s appointment, chimed in with her confident proclamation that it’s a boy. She even went as far as saying she would put money on it in Vegas. Well after that assessment, how could we not be influenced? She is the expert! Ever since then we’ve been eyeing boys’ clothes and boy-themed bedding sets, while vainly trying to keep an open mind.
Good thing no money changed hands.
The enormously anticipated second ultrasound appointment put the kibosh on all of the rampant speculation. As we both silently expected to hear the confirmation announced at any minute, the tech dropped a surprise: IT’S A GIRL. Cue the sound effect of the record player needle being scratched against vinyl.
A girl? Not a boy? The tech explained the evidence, and it just goes to show that medical science gets to have the last laugh. My instant reaction was not disappointment (I truly didn’t care either way), but rather stunned excitement. Visions of car seats, blankets, and onesies went from shades of blue to pink. Wow, a girl. Daddy’s little girl, I love the sound of that.
She’s Daddy’s active, rambunctious little girl too.
Arms and legs flailed to and fro in the gray, splotchy image. This girl wouldn’t stay still for ten seconds. An image of a foot appeared, a hand, a face, and profiles from opposite sides of the screen. She’s over here…now she’s over there. Cart wheels and somersaults were performed with ease. No wonder it was so hard to get fix on her the first time the doctor looked for a heartbeat. My wife had yet to feel anything but flutters so far, but we both anticipate a lot more as she continues to grow. The kicks will come, and there will probably be a lot of them.
But we had more to go on than just old wives’ tales. Our own doctor, after last month’s appointment, chimed in with her confident proclamation that it’s a boy. She even went as far as saying she would put money on it in Vegas. Well after that assessment, how could we not be influenced? She is the expert! Ever since then we’ve been eyeing boys’ clothes and boy-themed bedding sets, while vainly trying to keep an open mind.
Good thing no money changed hands.
The enormously anticipated second ultrasound appointment put the kibosh on all of the rampant speculation. As we both silently expected to hear the confirmation announced at any minute, the tech dropped a surprise: IT’S A GIRL. Cue the sound effect of the record player needle being scratched against vinyl.
A girl? Not a boy? The tech explained the evidence, and it just goes to show that medical science gets to have the last laugh. My instant reaction was not disappointment (I truly didn’t care either way), but rather stunned excitement. Visions of car seats, blankets, and onesies went from shades of blue to pink. Wow, a girl. Daddy’s little girl, I love the sound of that.
She’s Daddy’s active, rambunctious little girl too.
Arms and legs flailed to and fro in the gray, splotchy image. This girl wouldn’t stay still for ten seconds. An image of a foot appeared, a hand, a face, and profiles from opposite sides of the screen. She’s over here…now she’s over there. Cart wheels and somersaults were performed with ease. No wonder it was so hard to get fix on her the first time the doctor looked for a heartbeat. My wife had yet to feel anything but flutters so far, but we both anticipate a lot more as she continues to grow. The kicks will come, and there will probably be a lot of them.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Cats in the Cradle
If you’re familiar with the Harry Chapin song you know that it’s a lyrically poignant and touching song about fatherhood. If you’re not, then check it out and listen closely to the story about a father’s regret about not being around sometimes to watch his son grow up, and then later in the song he laments that his adult son has become just as unavailable as he was for quality time together.
I bring this up because of the eerie coincidence of hearing this song on the radio yesterday as I went to breakfast with my dad. The last few months for him have been a rough go health wise due to his treatment for prostate cancer. After 6 weeks of chemotherapy, which fortunately didn’t have too many side effects other than general fatigue, he concluded his treatment with surgery to implant radioactive seeds that will help shrink his prostrate and eliminate the cancer.
For my brother and me, it’s been nerve-racking to watch. All the while doctors have kept us optimistic and my dad has been in good spirits even through the latest surgical procedure. I took him to the doctor’s office and stayed with him throughout the four hour surgery and recoup time. And then yesterday we topped it off by having breakfast together.
All the while I’ve felt a reinforcement of how fortunate I am to have father like mine. There were times when I was little he would have to go off on business trips, much like the father depicted in the Harry Chapin song, but overall through the years he has been there and been very supportive and invested in my upbringing. I’ve come to understand how much of a rarity that is today amongst my peers. Absent fathers are in abundance, and some goes as far as being completely unavailable and betray marriage vows and the obligations of fatherhood.
I’m lucky that my dad never did. He was a devoted husband for over 50 years until my mom passed away last August. During our quality time he reminisced about some of the places around the world he had been with my mom and I could tell in his words just how much he missed her. But his role as father is still something he cherishes, and that night he called me to thank me for having breakfast with him and everything else I did to be by his side during his ordeal.
“I've long since retired, my son's moved away/I called him up just the other day/
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"/He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time/You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu/But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad/It's been sure nice talking to you"”
In my last blog entry I vented about poor examples of fathering and vowed not to be so negligent. While spending time with my dad it was reaffirmed how I have such a great role model to follow. I also want to make vow to spend more time him. It’s that kind of loving consideration that I hope my son or daughter takes with me someday.
I bring this up because of the eerie coincidence of hearing this song on the radio yesterday as I went to breakfast with my dad. The last few months for him have been a rough go health wise due to his treatment for prostate cancer. After 6 weeks of chemotherapy, which fortunately didn’t have too many side effects other than general fatigue, he concluded his treatment with surgery to implant radioactive seeds that will help shrink his prostrate and eliminate the cancer.
For my brother and me, it’s been nerve-racking to watch. All the while doctors have kept us optimistic and my dad has been in good spirits even through the latest surgical procedure. I took him to the doctor’s office and stayed with him throughout the four hour surgery and recoup time. And then yesterday we topped it off by having breakfast together.
All the while I’ve felt a reinforcement of how fortunate I am to have father like mine. There were times when I was little he would have to go off on business trips, much like the father depicted in the Harry Chapin song, but overall through the years he has been there and been very supportive and invested in my upbringing. I’ve come to understand how much of a rarity that is today amongst my peers. Absent fathers are in abundance, and some goes as far as being completely unavailable and betray marriage vows and the obligations of fatherhood.
I’m lucky that my dad never did. He was a devoted husband for over 50 years until my mom passed away last August. During our quality time he reminisced about some of the places around the world he had been with my mom and I could tell in his words just how much he missed her. But his role as father is still something he cherishes, and that night he called me to thank me for having breakfast with him and everything else I did to be by his side during his ordeal.
“I've long since retired, my son's moved away/I called him up just the other day/
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"/He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time/You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu/But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad/It's been sure nice talking to you"”
In my last blog entry I vented about poor examples of fathering and vowed not to be so negligent. While spending time with my dad it was reaffirmed how I have such a great role model to follow. I also want to make vow to spend more time him. It’s that kind of loving consideration that I hope my son or daughter takes with me someday.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
So that's your idea of parenting??
I'm not a particularly nosey or condescending person--except when it comes to the driving skills displayed by some--but I guess because I'm an expectant father, I've begun to notice more the examples of parenting around me. Now I'll say right upfront that I am not an expert on the subject, and ultimately it is none of my business, but what I see sometimes is downright appalling.
It has taken painstaking effort for me to hold my tongue in these instances, and so I come to my blog to vent a little about what I have observed and shed some light on these "fine" examples of parenting:
Recently during a trip to get groceries, I observed a young boy who had to be around 4 or 5 years old sitting in the shopping cart bawling and hollering about cookies. His tantrum is loud and relentless, but the father pushing the cart not only ignores his pleas, he exacerbates the issue. He proceeds to playfully taunt the boy by offering up every cracker and wheat thin in the isle as if he fails to understand the boy's desire for cookies. Nice, you're a real comedy act pal. Except you're the only one in the entire store who thinks that's funny.
Father of the year number two is the guy I came across at a comic book store. He draws attention to himself first off by struggling to maneuver his baby stroller through the front door. After a lot of banging and thumping (which the baby I'm sure appreciates) he finally makes his way in and shoves the stroller off to one side while he steps over a good ten feet away so he can start perusing a display case. The stroller, which is clearly unattended while dad goes about his business, has a blanket covered over it so I can't confirm there is a child inside. But why would anyone go through such a hassle to enter a store with an empty stroller?
And last but not least, is a father I saw at Chipolte the other day. First of all he's got a cellphone glued to his ear while parking his honking SUV and blocking incoming traffic behind him. Then I see him walk in with his curious 2 year old boy by his side. The whole time the guy is going through the line ordering his food, and then plopping down to have lunch, the phone never leaves the side of his face. Meanwhile, the little boy is bumping into other customers and eventually slips off to the back patio to explore. His father does have the presence of mind to get up and reign the boy in, but still the phone is more attached to him than the child. I don't care how important the call is, you're with your kid, spend some time with him for heaven's sake!!
Okay, venting is done.
My overall point is, if you don't have the time, think it's such a hassle, an inconvenience, or a source of amusement, you're not ready to be a parent.
It has taken painstaking effort for me to hold my tongue in these instances, and so I come to my blog to vent a little about what I have observed and shed some light on these "fine" examples of parenting:
Recently during a trip to get groceries, I observed a young boy who had to be around 4 or 5 years old sitting in the shopping cart bawling and hollering about cookies. His tantrum is loud and relentless, but the father pushing the cart not only ignores his pleas, he exacerbates the issue. He proceeds to playfully taunt the boy by offering up every cracker and wheat thin in the isle as if he fails to understand the boy's desire for cookies. Nice, you're a real comedy act pal. Except you're the only one in the entire store who thinks that's funny.
Father of the year number two is the guy I came across at a comic book store. He draws attention to himself first off by struggling to maneuver his baby stroller through the front door. After a lot of banging and thumping (which the baby I'm sure appreciates) he finally makes his way in and shoves the stroller off to one side while he steps over a good ten feet away so he can start perusing a display case. The stroller, which is clearly unattended while dad goes about his business, has a blanket covered over it so I can't confirm there is a child inside. But why would anyone go through such a hassle to enter a store with an empty stroller?
And last but not least, is a father I saw at Chipolte the other day. First of all he's got a cellphone glued to his ear while parking his honking SUV and blocking incoming traffic behind him. Then I see him walk in with his curious 2 year old boy by his side. The whole time the guy is going through the line ordering his food, and then plopping down to have lunch, the phone never leaves the side of his face. Meanwhile, the little boy is bumping into other customers and eventually slips off to the back patio to explore. His father does have the presence of mind to get up and reign the boy in, but still the phone is more attached to him than the child. I don't care how important the call is, you're with your kid, spend some time with him for heaven's sake!!
Okay, venting is done.
My overall point is, if you don't have the time, think it's such a hassle, an inconvenience, or a source of amusement, you're not ready to be a parent.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
A boy or a girl???
From April 2, 2010
Here we are in the second trimester and mom and baby (which is the size of a lemon now) are doing fine. My wife’s fatigue seems to be waning, but as she learned yesterday, there are other fun things for her to look forward to as she plugs along. While her mother is staying with us this week for Spring Break, she called home and wanted to talk to her right away. I handed the phone to my mother-in-law and stood by on the sidelines quietly on edge because I was unaware of the nature of the call. I later heard about the swelling from water retention that had erupted during the morning and ratcheted down my stress level. What it boils down to is sodium is bad, and we need to be a little more careful with what she eats.
As for our little “lemon”, we learned at the last OB appointment that it’s an active child. The doctor’s attempt to pinpoint the sound of the heartbeat was nearly impossible due to the baby constantly shifting around to avoid the pokes into my wife’s belly. The speaker on the doctor’s belt emanated the sloshing sounds made by every movement, but eventually we did briefly hear the “thud, thud, thud, thud, thud” of the heartbeat.
When we shared this funny revelation on Facebook, a firestorm of debate was touched off whether it was a boy or girl. Friends relayed personal experiences of their son or daughter being just as active. Then came the inevitable, “Well it must be a girl because of x”, or “It has to be a boy because of x”. Everybody has their theory and their take of how to tell the sex of the baby.
Along with those arguments comes the tired old question, “Do you want a boy or a girl?”, which has been asked about a trillion times.
Now let me go on record as giving the standard cliché answer, “All we care about is that the baby is healthy.” There I said it, written in black and white, and I’m willing to swear on the Holy Bible that it’s the God’s honest truth!
We’ve discussed this as a couple, and we both feel equally torn. To play favorites would mean slighting the other sex. Neither of us are willing to do that, and it seems just plain selfish to me. Bottom line is I won’t be disappointed if it’s not x. Whether a boy or a girl, I still plan on taking them to a baseball game, and play other sports with them as dad should do for as long as the kid is interested. So what if my daughter would rather play with dolls than play catch? Hey, I could have a son that might feel the same way. It truly doesn’t matter, because I will love them both just as much.
Here we are in the second trimester and mom and baby (which is the size of a lemon now) are doing fine. My wife’s fatigue seems to be waning, but as she learned yesterday, there are other fun things for her to look forward to as she plugs along. While her mother is staying with us this week for Spring Break, she called home and wanted to talk to her right away. I handed the phone to my mother-in-law and stood by on the sidelines quietly on edge because I was unaware of the nature of the call. I later heard about the swelling from water retention that had erupted during the morning and ratcheted down my stress level. What it boils down to is sodium is bad, and we need to be a little more careful with what she eats.
As for our little “lemon”, we learned at the last OB appointment that it’s an active child. The doctor’s attempt to pinpoint the sound of the heartbeat was nearly impossible due to the baby constantly shifting around to avoid the pokes into my wife’s belly. The speaker on the doctor’s belt emanated the sloshing sounds made by every movement, but eventually we did briefly hear the “thud, thud, thud, thud, thud” of the heartbeat.
When we shared this funny revelation on Facebook, a firestorm of debate was touched off whether it was a boy or girl. Friends relayed personal experiences of their son or daughter being just as active. Then came the inevitable, “Well it must be a girl because of x”, or “It has to be a boy because of x”. Everybody has their theory and their take of how to tell the sex of the baby.
Along with those arguments comes the tired old question, “Do you want a boy or a girl?”, which has been asked about a trillion times.
Now let me go on record as giving the standard cliché answer, “All we care about is that the baby is healthy.” There I said it, written in black and white, and I’m willing to swear on the Holy Bible that it’s the God’s honest truth!
We’ve discussed this as a couple, and we both feel equally torn. To play favorites would mean slighting the other sex. Neither of us are willing to do that, and it seems just plain selfish to me. Bottom line is I won’t be disappointed if it’s not x. Whether a boy or a girl, I still plan on taking them to a baseball game, and play other sports with them as dad should do for as long as the kid is interested. So what if my daughter would rather play with dolls than play catch? Hey, I could have a son that might feel the same way. It truly doesn’t matter, because I will love them both just as much.
Our little olive
From February 26, 2010
Patience is a virtue. It is also a father-to-be’s number one asset! Without patience it is easy to fall into the trap of frustration during this period of the pregnancy. Because now your mom-to-be is constantly exhausted. You can tell by the look on her face and the way her shoulders drop, that by early evening the simplest tasks are just a drain of energy. Falling asleep on the couch by seven is a nightly event. And if you’re a couple accustomed to going out and doing things, or even staying in and doing stuff, that has now changed.
If I was a person short on patience, I would have taken this adjustment hard. Instead, I understand its part of the territory. Her hormones are in overdrive, working 24/7 with no break. And the frequent nightly trips to the bathroom cuts into her sleep routine and adds to the fatigue. The pregnancy books say that a woman’s body exerts more energy just sitting on the couch than if I were to workout at the gym all week. I believe it just by looking at her drained face.
They also say, as do all my friends on Facebook, that now is the time for the mood swings. The abrupt change in emotions and the roller coaster ride that is supposed to be thrown at me has yet to materialize though. Apart from a few tears during a commercial for animal adoption (which is nothing new by the way since my wife is a huge animal lover), I really have been spared what others warn me is “psycho bitch” mode.
But even so, the big payoff comes in the form of the first ultrasound visit. We had been anxiously anticipating this moment for what seemed like three agonizingly long weeks. I went in with strong expectations and was nervous that I would be disappointed. After a long consultation with our doctor, filling out pages of paperwork, the ultrasound was arranged for later in the afternoon.
Soon I found myself sitting in a dark room staring intently at every flux and wave of gray splotches projected on the monitor. Is that it? Is that it? I found it odd that this was edge-of-my-seat entertainment. It wasn’t long before my eyes started playing tricks on me seeing “face-like” features in the swirling grey-white ultrasound image.
Eventually the big moment came as the technician focused in on the womb. The image was clear as day, with little need for explanation—inside an oval black spot was the grey-white round outline of a head accompanied by two little arm buds and leg buds sprouting out. And although we could not hear a heartbeat yet, the tech pointed to the center of the embryo and we could see the tiny consistent thumping of the heart.
I’ll admit it; I’m not too proud, or macho to say it…I cried. Tears came streaming down both cheeks as I saw this little tiny life that we created. And as the embryo flinched, I became even more choked up. I wasn’t surprised or ashamed. I knew this was going to happen and even told my wife right after we confirmed the pregnancy that I was going to be wiping the tears away. And I was, with the most enormous smile on my face.
Patience is a virtue. It is also a father-to-be’s number one asset! Without patience it is easy to fall into the trap of frustration during this period of the pregnancy. Because now your mom-to-be is constantly exhausted. You can tell by the look on her face and the way her shoulders drop, that by early evening the simplest tasks are just a drain of energy. Falling asleep on the couch by seven is a nightly event. And if you’re a couple accustomed to going out and doing things, or even staying in and doing stuff, that has now changed.
If I was a person short on patience, I would have taken this adjustment hard. Instead, I understand its part of the territory. Her hormones are in overdrive, working 24/7 with no break. And the frequent nightly trips to the bathroom cuts into her sleep routine and adds to the fatigue. The pregnancy books say that a woman’s body exerts more energy just sitting on the couch than if I were to workout at the gym all week. I believe it just by looking at her drained face.
They also say, as do all my friends on Facebook, that now is the time for the mood swings. The abrupt change in emotions and the roller coaster ride that is supposed to be thrown at me has yet to materialize though. Apart from a few tears during a commercial for animal adoption (which is nothing new by the way since my wife is a huge animal lover), I really have been spared what others warn me is “psycho bitch” mode.
But even so, the big payoff comes in the form of the first ultrasound visit. We had been anxiously anticipating this moment for what seemed like three agonizingly long weeks. I went in with strong expectations and was nervous that I would be disappointed. After a long consultation with our doctor, filling out pages of paperwork, the ultrasound was arranged for later in the afternoon.
Soon I found myself sitting in a dark room staring intently at every flux and wave of gray splotches projected on the monitor. Is that it? Is that it? I found it odd that this was edge-of-my-seat entertainment. It wasn’t long before my eyes started playing tricks on me seeing “face-like” features in the swirling grey-white ultrasound image.
Eventually the big moment came as the technician focused in on the womb. The image was clear as day, with little need for explanation—inside an oval black spot was the grey-white round outline of a head accompanied by two little arm buds and leg buds sprouting out. And although we could not hear a heartbeat yet, the tech pointed to the center of the embryo and we could see the tiny consistent thumping of the heart.
I’ll admit it; I’m not too proud, or macho to say it…I cried. Tears came streaming down both cheeks as I saw this little tiny life that we created. And as the embryo flinched, I became even more choked up. I wasn’t surprised or ashamed. I knew this was going to happen and even told my wife right after we confirmed the pregnancy that I was going to be wiping the tears away. And I was, with the most enormous smile on my face.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Anxiety
From February 13, 2010
Diapers. A diaper bag. A crib. A mattress for the crib. A car seat. Formula. Bottles.
The list seems endless, and my anxiety is growing along with it. The anticipated cost of this child has been weighing very heavily on me lately. Being the main breadwinner in our expanding family means a lot is being placed on my shoulders. Now more than ever in my life, I yearn to make more money at my job, or better yet, win the lottery. Sure those are lofty dreams that might be achievable, but entirely useless to me in the short term. I have eight months and counting to get situated.
Currently, our combined income provides us with a nice two-bedroom apartment and pays our bills. But the truth is, one missed check for any reason, or unexpected cost, spells total disaster. It’s like spinning a bunch of plates on poles, everything has to be timed and kept in perfect balance.
But the impending arrival of our child will be both a blessing and a disruption of that balance. Having only a maximum of a couple of months for mother and child to bond seems unfair. I wish she could spend more time at home. But the truth is, even those six weeks without pay is going to be a huge blow to our finances. I want my wife to rest, recover, and enjoy as much time as she can with our newborn, but I’m also worried about how much financial strain that will create.
I wish we had some comfortable childcare options available; leaving the baby with family during work hours would be the most desirable. But my mother-in-law, our first choice, lives too far away to make it feasible for us. My dad is in his seventies, recently widowed, and doing his best to plug along every day. I wouldn’t feel right about burdening him with caring for an infant. It’s not that he couldn’t handle it, but he seems to have his hands full with a rambunctious 1-year-old Jack Russell and keeping clean an all too empty house.
So that means the idea of leaving our child with strangers, which for me just gives me the willies. All the horror stories I’ve heard on the local news about day care centers comes to mind. And the thought of my son or daughter bonding with someone other than me or my wife during their impressionable infancy is also terrifying. I guess this is the beginning of being torn between parenting commitments, and the obligations of the adult world.
I’m going to be Dad
From January 31, 2010
It still sounds weird to say it, “I’m going to be a dad!”. Yet, every time the words roll off my tongue it comes out with that same level of enthusiasm. And why shouldn’t it? I’ve waited a long time to say it! Not to dwell on my gloomy past love life too much, but there were times that I seriously believed that I wasn’t going to find anyone. That I was going to be alone (cue the pity party) and never know what it feels like to be a father.
I guess I’m abnormal in that sense—I’m a man who actually wants kids, who embraces the idea of being a family man. Some guys are terrified of commitment to another person, let alone taking on the responsibility of being a parent. But I’ve always had different aspirations. Not because I feel so confident in my parenting abilities, or that I know exactly how to handle what life is about to throw at me. Instead, I focus on the positives that lay out in front of me.
My baby’s first cry, the first time I will hold them in my arms, the first time they look up at me in wonderment, the first smile, and the first laugh…a long list of firsts that will undoubtedly make a lasting impression on me for the rest of my life.
As daunting as all that sounds, and the astronomical costs of food, diapers, and child care, I still welcome this. That’s due to the comfort I take in all of those positives outweighing any negatives that will come my way.
After we got home from the doctor’s appointment that confirmed the pregnancy, the temptation all week to plaster the news on Facebook was strong. I am an avid user of the site, but not to the point where I require access to it on my cellphone so I can have it handy 24/7 to provide juicy tidbits such as “I’m tired”, “I’m bored”, or the ever exciting “Just heading to work”. Still, I do my daily check in and the urge to post even a hint of the big news was tantalizing. But for the sake of our family who are either on there, or have ties to people who are Facebook Friends of ours, we remained silent.
As internet social networking has become more prominent in our society, I’m amazed by users who are flabbergasted by how their privacy is being chipped away. Um, if you post every, thought, political opinion, inner reflection, and some random pic of you drunk at some party, word will spread to everyone including your pastor and your fourth grade homeroom teacher. Family deserves better than finding out via a posting, a twit, or word of mouth. They’re the people who have known you longer than anyone else and they should get the special privilege of being told first before the rest of cyberspace.
The only problem with that was trying to be subtle about it when you approach them. For us, an impromptu visit to my dad’s house during the week stood out like a sore thumb. So did every text message to all of my siblings. Simply asking if they’re free for me to call them is apparently a dead giveaway.
The same was true for my wife when we made a weekend jaunt to go visit her mom. However, in each case, it didn’t really damper the impact of our momentous news. Smiles, hugs, and congratulations were abundant. And it was worthwhile to tell them all first before plastering it on Facebook. Afterwards I also realized how helpful breaking the news was to cementing the reality of my soon-to-be fatherhood.
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