A Letter To My Daughter

Hey there kiddo, how ya doing? Within 48 hours you and I will meet face-to-face, and I gotta say, it’ll be among the best days of my life. I’ve spent the last nine months thinking about you, giving you a personality, and dreaming about you in my life. On Monday, you move from a concept – a lump in my wife’s belly – to a reality. I hope, when you read this, you’ll know that I tried my best.

See, we all grow up thinking our parents are more than they are. To a child, parents are providers and pacifiers. The cycle of the parent/child relationship goes like this – For a while, you won’t recognize us, but we’ll still care for you. Soon, you will recognize us, by face and voice, and we’ll still care for you. When you first call us by name, our hearts will melt, and we’ll rush to you. But at some point, and it might not be for a decade or so, your wonder in us will fade. We’ll just be your parents, a speed bump on your road to fun. But we’ll still love you.

Perhaps at some point, you’ll succumb to cliché and prattle on about how you didn’t ask to be born. Perhaps you’ll withdraw from us for a while and try to find yourself. Your introspection is a benefit, but it won’t be easy on us.

Look at me, going on like some kind of weathered expert. Truth is, kiddo, I don’t know shit about raising a child. I’ve read some books, watched some programs, talked to some people…but I won’t know what to do until you get here. And I may not be the most technically proficient parent. Your diapers may not always stay on, you might develop a rash, your clothes will certainly not match. But I’ll make up for it.

I’ve got something that cannot be replicated. I can tell you now, before you are born, that I will try my hardest to be the best parent I can be for you. Your mother and I – we love you more than you will know until you have a child of your own – we will always look out for your best interests.

I guess it’s a good thing that you won’t remember much of your infancy; we’ll still be feeling it out, ourselves.

Sleep tight, tonight, my unborn child. Tomorrow and Monday will be busy days. Your mother and I have done a thorough job of preparing for your arrival, but it won’t be perfect. All we ask is that you bear with us, and we promise to raise you the best way we can

Home Alone

On the Friday before Father's Day, my first as an expectant father, my wife left me. Don't worry, she came back on Sunday.

Before we decided to take Labor Day weekend literally, my wife and I had whirlwind plans for the long weekend. Two of our friends, one of mine from high school, two of hers from law school, are getting married Labor Day weekend. The first wedding, where my wife was to be a bridesmaid, will be Friday, Sept. 1 in Long Island. The second, two days later in Saint Louis. Flush with expendable cash, energy, and liver, we planned to attend both.

Being otherwise occupied of Labor Day weekend, those whirlwind plans were abbreviated to my wife attending a bridal shower this weekend in New York. I had an unavoidable conflict on Saturday morning, leaving my wife to fend for herself (with her mother) up I-95 and the Jersey Turnpike, while I had to spend the weekend at home. Alone. Woe was me.

With the end of my Healthy Challenge Competition coming to a close in a few days, I couldn't fit in as much gluttony as I would have liked. I more than made up for it in sloth and laziness. But, come Saturday evening, I began to run out of deadly sins to practice, unless cleanliness and loneliness snuck on that list somehow.

So I didn't live it up in pure bachelor bliss the past 48 hours. But I did reconnect with my own bed for some quality time and I managed to ruin my wife's Father's Day present by finding it while cleaning and reading it. C'est la vie.

It was a fairly uneventful Father's Day 'round these parts. Despite getting a few "almost" Father's Day cards and calls, it's hard for me to fully embrace the day. It's getting credit for something I have not yet done. Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with the accolades. But come laud me next year, when I have nine months of successful child-rearing under my belt, and then we can talk about a holiday.

This Post Now Has A Title

There are six pillows in my house and currently five of them are adjacent to My Lovely Wife. The sixth lays on my side of the bed. This doesn't include the curved body pillow, who we affectionately call "Mr. Snuggle" that is currently next to the bed, should my wife need it. The last time there were this many pillows on my bed, I was making a fort.

If you are not, like me, a first-time expectant father, you may have stopped reading after the second sentence, where I claim to retain a "side of the bed." That statement may just invalidate every other thing I have written. Well, here we are, five and a half months into this pregnancy and I still have a side of the bed. I don't always sleep there.

It's no secret, either. After giving some men updates on how far along my wife is, they follow up with, "Are you sleeping on the couch yet?" The answer is, sometimes. We also have an air mattress. Where I sleep on any given night depends on several variables: how she feels, when I am coming to bed (beyond 30 minutes of her), when I have to wake up, how bad my breath is perceived to be, etc.

Tonight I placed two pillows under my wife's feet for the first time. I've marveled publicly about the physical changes a woman must withstand during gestation. Once again, I have no response or basic comprehension of how it must feel to be expecting. You would think that sleep - a time when even physical injuries can seem healed - would provide respite for an aching mother-to-be. But you'd be wrong. The closer a woman is to nine months, and the larger her belly is, the more difficult it is for her to sleep, in any position. It's already a chore to walk, to sit, to anything we take for granted, but for sleep to be elusive on top of it all, that's just cruel.

So I wisely sleep outside of our bed from time-t0-time. Tonight, I'm hoping to get a few hours of shut-eye on that Queen size pillow-top we paid so much for, but if not, that's understandable. And if i do? Well, I'll try not to steal the covers.

UPDATE No. 1 - Remember, when blogging late at night, to write your title first, otherwise, you'll just plain forget.

UPDATE No. 2 - I did not, as expected, sleep in my own bed last night. I tried to, but found my wife sleeping in a position that can only be described as "diagonal sprawl." Unable to find room for me, I retreated to the second bedroom.