She's ready.
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When this baby comes it will be our 3rd child. I didn't ever expect to be a father three times. I think I always thought that if I had children I'd have two. And in some of my culture studies, and even in some of my environmental studies courses, have been presented with the idea that perhaps only having 2 children was the most responsible thing to do-the argument being that living in a highly over-privileged society, where 5 percent of the world-population consumes 25 percent of the world's resources, we have a false sense of abundance and are not so much over populating the world, as excessively consuming it.
But I've heard more than one argument on that topic. And I am swiftly heading off of the one I started on. So... like a open-sea pilot, I'm going to finesse/muscle this love-boat back onto its original course without even spilling my drink(s).
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I remember when my first son was born. It was amazing. We (me and the momma) were both on cloud nine. He was born beautiful. AND he looked just like me. I think his being an infant was what saved him. As time passed he's come to resemble his mother quite a bit, though because of his red hair and very fair skin, people first see our resemblance.
He was a little cone headed when he was born, because they used the vacuum/suction cup on his bean, but we put a little white beanie on him, and he was just stunning. He had a full head of fine orange hair, and was pretty quiet. I didn't know what to expect. Maybe that's why it hit me like a tidal wave on a penthouse balcony. I just wasn't expecting it.
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I remember when my second son was born too. I was scared to death. Nothing like the first. I don't know why I was so scared. In retrospect, I think I'd become accustomed to the mantle of responsibility from being a parent for 2 years. And as such I recognized the myriad dangers that opened up before us, and being in a hospital was only a mild comfort. I knew now what I had to lose, I think.
But there was something else-what if he was born, and I didn't get the dousing that I'd experienced when my first was born. What he was freaky looking? What if I didn't feel the rush of... anything?
Well, he was born, finally, and all the nurses were exclamatory, but I think that's actually written into their genetic code. Because he looked NOTHING like what I'd remembered from before. He was a) HUGE b) Bob the Tomato. He was SO red it was sort of unnerving.
And he just looked like a baby. I don't know how else to explain it. He looked completely normal. Except for being 23 lbs and red like a tomato. Besides all that he was totally normal looking. No halo, no glow, no sound of heavenly host, no nothing. A little crying. I was totally shocked. I remember thinking afterwards, "Ok, now what?"
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Well, he's over 2 now, and his older brother is 4, going on 8. And I'm so completely knocked out with both of them that words will simply not suffice. So I won't even mar the process by trying.
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I realized, not sure, maybe 8 months? Maybe a year ago...I realized that #2 was getting the short end of the deal. It became apparent to me---and I can't remember how---that I was seeing him strictly as an accessory item for his older brother. He was always Tigger's little sidekick. The cog in my head slipped a tooth and I realized: though I had two sons, EACH of them only had ONE dad.
It's sort of like discovering that your best friend just used you to cover his own butt. I mean, not literally, but it was that sort of radical shift in paradigms for me. Here's what happened. I lost the central spot in my little world. Instead of being a dad with two sons, I WAS the dad to two sons. Does that make sense? "With" (personal possession) became "to" (relative to something/someone else).
And doors flew open. They slammed open. There were holes in walls from doorknobs, and the floor littered with the screw heads that snapped off door-jamb hinge-plates. Fresh, clean wind blew through my heart and I loved my son. I loved both of my sons, and became a dad that could be uniquely experienced by each of them in the way that they each uniquely experienced being my son.
I gained a son. And I have a very special love for him because it took me so dreadfully long to find it.
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So I hear my Suga-momma in the other room. She periodically groans (ok, the truth is she's been doing quite a bit of groaning this last month or so) as she moves from one position to another. She's working from home. Partly because she's so uncomfortable, partly because BEING uncomfortable in public can make other people uncomfortable. We're hoping she goes into full on labor soon. She was induced with Tigger, and, well, let's just say things went significantly better with Mo, and much of it because she went into labor on her own.
So we wait. I'm not scared. Not like I was. Honestly, I'm really excited to meet this kid, and find out what God is doing in our family now.
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