This past June, I wrote an entry on my birthday that made a mysterious reference to me receiving a very cool gift. Apparently, one of my friends who came by my blog—the only one, I thought—guessed what that gift might be. I won’t mention Stacey’s name…oops…Oh well…it’s out there now.
I was told of Stacey’s theory by another friend of mine, Leanne, who apparently also reads my blog—I didn’t think any of my friends read this shit, thank god I didn’t say anything bad about either one of them.
It seems that Stacey has this outrageous notion that the gift I received on my birthday was—in fact—news that Tanya (the wifey) was pregnant. Well, I’ll have you know, Stacey, that this wasn’t at all what I was referring to…In fact, by my birthday, I had already known Tanya was pregnant for almost a month! So that punches a little hole in that theory, doesn’t it smarty-pants?
That’s right, Tanya and I are going to become parents. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT!? People like us shouldn’t be allowed to be in charge of young, impressionable minds. We’re too young immature self-centered for that kind of responsibility.
They say that with children everything changes. Your priorities are refocused, everything is about the child, not you. Well, we’ll see about that! I’m going to totally make this about me!
At any rate, those few of you who read this blog, BE FOREWARNED! Come the end of next January, this blog will probably jump the shark as I inundate it with pictures and entries chronicling junior’s first everythings! After all…that’s what bloggers do when they become parents isn’t it?
I’ll try get some good rants in before that happens, but I warn you…next year by this time, I may be meting out public shamings to the creators of Barney, Dora and whatever other children’s shows I’ll be forced to watch over the Jay’s game.
So what happened on my birthday?
Well, the day before we had a little scare and Tanya went to the hospital. In hindsight, it was probably an overreaction, but this is the first time for both of us so we weren’t going to take any chances. I left work early and met Tanya in the ER. We were in there for almost 12 hours before they sent us home and asked us to return the next morning for an ultra-sound. It was a very long day and evening.
The next morning—on my birthday—we returned to the hospital. By that point, Tanya and I had grown really sick of the place—what with Tanya’s sister and my grandfather’s situations. We waited another hour and a bit before they finally took her in. I was left waiting out in the hallway for another torturous wait.
Finally, they called me in to the room, I saw Tanya laying there, she’d been crying. I braced myself for the news I thought I had prepared myself to hear the entire previous day and that morning. It was turning out to be a bad year for news. I needed to be strong, for Tanya.
The ultra-sound technician turned the screen towards me and asked if I wanted to see our baby’s heartbeat. I must have said yes—I don’t remember—because the next thing I saw was a little white blob, about the shape and size of a lima bean and it was pulsating, like a heartbeat, only faster.
“Cool!” was all I could muster accompanied by what was probably a dumb grin. I then realized that Tanya wasn’t crying because of bad news, she was overwhelmed by relief and the reality of the situation. Up until then, the only evidence of the pregnancy had been a couple of dipstick tests and some nausea.
Now we had a heartbeat. Happy Birthday Al…
Holy shit! What have we gotten ourselves into?
I’m really not freaking too much now. I think I’m saving it all for that drive to the ER when labour begins. I think that’s when most expectant fathers begin to freak out. It’s part of the whole “don’t look too far ahead” tendency that males seem to have.
Right now, I’ve just got some pretty firm deadlines for completing a few projects around the house…more specifically…a nursery. So if it seems that there is more and more time between blog entries for the next little while, just know that it’s not because I don’t love you all. I’m probably just elbow-deep in either baby blue or pink paint and Dora and/or Toronto Maple Leafs borders.
On second thought…fuck the Dora borders, this kid will be dragged, kicking and screaming into the Leafs/Jays/Raptors/Argos nation, weather he/she likes in or not. After all…I’m the adult here right?
What are you thinking?