And I "Need" That Why, Exactly?

So, now that the immediate family knows of our impending parenthood, and couldn't be happier or more surprised, we've entered a new phase of our relationship. The one where everyone in the world starts giving us advice. As novice parents-to-be, to a certain extent this is great; I have no idea what's going on, so a little friendly guidance is much appreciated. That my mother was a nurse for the better part of 30 years (as well as a mother of two), and my sister is a licensed occupational therapist makes their insight even more persuasive.

However, I don't need a dissertation of all the things I'll need to do, look out for, or for damn sure have to go out and buy, at least at this particular juncture. Needless to say, that hasn't stopped everyone from doing it anyway. As the first of what I'm sure will be an ongoing series, I give you "Modern Childrearing Implements You Never Knew Existed."

Exhibit 1: The "Boppy"
Don't ask. Apparently, it's to support the kid while feeding, and to help muscle development when they're learning to sit up. Me? I thought it was a neck pillow.

Exhibit 2: The "Baby Bjorn"
Those crazy Swedes. What will they think of next? The adorably boxy Volvoes of my youth, the frustratingly odd location of the ignition on all cars Saab, lutefisk, and now this; You know, for kids. Apparently, it's for carrying your kid around, either in the "puke on me" (facing inward) or "puke on you" (facing outward) positions.

Exhibit 3: The Car Seat
Apparently, even though I'll only have one kid, I'll need three of these; one "infant," one "toddler," one "booster." If you ask me, this can all be avoided by the liberal use of bubblewrap and duct tape. Of course it's legal; I'm an attorney.

It's going to be a long seven months.

Ends, and Beginnings

It's been a crazy couple of months; finishing law school, taking (and passing) the bar exam (two of them, actually), packing, moving, and unpacking again, then learning that mere months from now I receive the coveted title of "Daddy." From what little I know, the whirlwind is just beginning, but something tells me that the things that got me through the past few will serve me well in the coming months. I have an incredible wife, supportive family, and amazing friends.

The last group, in particular, has been critically important of late. Regardless of how wonderful family is, unless they've been through the wringer of law school and the bar kafuffle thereafter, they just don't get it. They simply can't. No event in the entirety of human existence quite compares to law school and the bar exam. Sadly, not everyone emerged unscathed. Brilliant classmates have fallen victim for reasons not quite understood by them or me, but they soldier on; for that reason alone they have my undying respect. The accomplishments of those who passed stand on their own; the efforts of those yet to pass stand as a testament to hard work and perseverance. You'll get it next time.

To all my peeps in DE, PA, NJ, and NY, particularly those who doubted they could; you did. I'm proud of you.

Words I'm looking forward to saying ad infinitum, ad nauseam for the rest of my life. After all, isn't that part of a Daddy's job?

Down the Rabbit Hole

Life often sends us little signals that we recognize immediately, identify only in hindsight, or miss altogether. The events surrounding my wife telling me she was pregnant falls into that vast grey area in the middle.

She didn’t tell me “we” were pregnant, because let’s face it, after sending my boys on their way, my work was done; I am no longer part of the equation. She was pregnant, and while the coming physiological effects are certainly limited to her, my life as I knew it was over. What did I do? What any Irish recovering-Catholic attorney would do; I poured myself a drink and sat down to figure out what the hell this all means.

We discussed having a child, so this wasn't out of left field, but the conversations always stayed in the hypothetical. For some reason, at some point in time, I thought it was a great idea, but come on, really? The MONTH my wife goes off birth control, I knock her up? Really? I’m 34, and she's 37; conventional wisdom tells us to wait six months to a year before we really start worrying about conception or the lack thereof. I figure that either I have super-sperm or my wife is the second coming of the Fertile Crescent. Regardless, my life as I know it has officially ended. In pace requiem.

That isn’t to say that there weren’t signs, omens if you will, that should have alerted me to this impeding upheaval. From what little I currently understand about the process, and I may be mistaken here, pregnancy wreaks havoc on a woman’s body. My wife doesn’t usually complain all that much about bloating, cramping, and other GI unpleasantries, nor do I ordinarily bear witness to any of the secondary indicia; stinking up the bathroom is my job. Not these past few weeks. I just handed my funky crown to her. I bet they don't tell you that in "What To Expect."

More subtle were the subconscious signs. Can men pick up on biochemical shifts in their spouses, akin to the menstrual synchronization phenomenon of college dorms? Someone needs to look into this, because this past week I’ve 1) had dreams about us finding out we weren’t yet pregnant, planning out the consolation I would need to provide in order to earn the access necessary to try again; 2) experienced a sudden inexplicable urge to read “daddy blogs” documenting parallel experiences of others; and 3) become convinced that doing it myself was just the greatest idea ever.

So when I got home from the office the other night, I found a card (seriously, does she keep a stack of these hidden somewhere, and more disturbingly, some ass at a greeting card company felt the need to make ‘congratulations, you’re pregnant’ cards? That must be a sign of the downfall of western civilization), endearingly enough informing me “my swimmers hit their target.”

......

Did I know without knowing, or is this all an impermissible application of hindsight? More importantly, does this mean I have to buy a minivan and a car seat, or can that wait? At the end of it all, I have to say I really don’t want a minivan