Counting Down

At 32 weeks, it’s a little late in the game to be getting cold feet, but as the weeks fly by and the due date inches closer and closer, I find myself questioning if I’m ready for all of this.  Am I cut out to be a parent?  Just the other week used the term “milking the baby”.

Before it was all fun at games, well for me at least.  My wife’s little belly started to poke out, we were playing the name game, and planning the baby shower.  But now, as the trips to the doctor are becoming more frequent, her feet swell up like cantaloupes, and her energy has been depleted, I am constantly reminded that this will be happening soon.

The other night as I watched my wife get up to pee, sit down, and then get up to pee, it suddenly occurred to me--this whole pregnancy thing has suddenly gotten really real.

I know I know, man up right?  Stop whining while your wife is doing all of the work.  Trust me, I understand that I’ve got the easy job, but I’m supposed to be the man of the house, unafraid and strong, the protector.  I'm also just a bit nervous about this whole thing.  Because as the nursery is nears completion, and my coworkers say things like Oh wait until _____ happens! I'm beginning to get a little unravelled.

I try to shake it off, everything's normal, but then I watch my wife take more pee breaks than Willie Nelson trying to pass a drug test and I realize that in the not so distant future, after the Briggs and Stratton turn into real contractions, I will be driving her to the hospital, a nervous wreck, knowing that my life will never be the same again.