Week 13: Sorry for being creepy... I'm about to be a dad.

Imagine you're an amateur painter. You're walking down a street, perhaps in France, and you come across a fellow artist painting a landscape. As you pass by, you see that he is rather adept at his art. You might just stop to watch him, perhaps pick up on a few tricks of the trade.

So is it really that different if you replace 'amateur painter' with 'father-to-be' and replace 'walking down a street in France' with say..., 'shopping at Ralph's'? Well, the answer is yes. It is very different... it's creepy.

I've always been what you might call socially awkward. Growing up I managed to surround myself with bigger personalities. I tended to hide in their shadows and, as a result of this, I didn't quite master the skills of interacting with my fellow man. It might be why I speak too quiet for anyone to hear or why I rarely say hello to my coworkers as I pass them in the hallway. But with all my ineptitude for social situations, even I know it's creepy to stare at some random parent as they talk with their child.

However, trying not to be creepy is harder than it sounds right now. For some reason over the last month I find myself zoning out and staring at parents interacting with their children against all my good judgment. And I don't mean just a glance; I'm talking a full-on stare. Perhaps I actually am learning. I picture the scene in T2: Judgment Day where Arnold learns to be more human from John Connor by being taught to say "Hasta la vista, baby." But more likely, I am just enthralled by the idea that these scenes playing out before me are now only 6 months away and the reality of the situation is hitting me harder than ever.

So as I watch a dad leaving the grocery store ahead of me, holding a balloon in one hand and his son's hand with the other, I can't help but watch intently. As the automatic doors open and the air blower above them turns on and blows the balloon backward, I snicker as the dad pretends he is thrown back by the force of the balloon also. His son laughs and I make a mental note: balloon trick = good.

Week 11: Congratulations on your pregnancy! -Love, Weirdo

My mind is officially boggled by the number of baby products that exist. Stepping into Babies R Us for the first time has to be similar to what it feels like to land on an alien planet. I can't figure out what half of the things do or how they function. Imagine the apes discovering the monolith in the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey and you'll have a pretty good picture of me in that store.

One particular trip stands out. I was shopping for my wife, hoping to buy her the very first maternity shirt for Mother's Day. I found one that I liked but upon closer inspection it didn't seem to look like a maternity shirt. It wasn't stretchy nor did it provide any extra room as far as I could tell. It just looked like a regular blouse with a tank-top built in. It wasn't until I looked at the tag and saw the wonderful illustration that I realized this was a nursing shirt, not a maternity shirt.

With all these new products to explore, it's easy to find some that are a little, shall we say, out there. That being said, I give you my list of the five strangest (or worst) gifts for a baby shower. You've been warned.

1) The Thudguard
The first helmet designed for learning how to walk or just laying around the house. I know what you're thinking: this seems a little too overprotective. On the contrary my friend. The website for the Thudguard addresses this concern on it's FAQ page. The Thudguard is the opposite of overprotective. This is for the parents who don't want to concern themselves with following little Billy all around the house as he learns to walk. Billy just took a spill on the hardwood floor? No problem, he's wearing a Thudguard. Billy fell off the bed? That's why we purchased the Thudguard. Even with all that being said, I understand the concern for safety, I really do. But why put the thing on top that looks like a propeller? That's really kicking Billy when he's down. What's that? Someone kicked Billy while he's down? Thudguard.

2) The Pregnancy Belly Casting Kit
Maybe you're thinking, "What keepsake will I be able to have once this whole pregnancy thing is over... you know, beside the baby?" Well now you can capture this moment in time with a pregnancy belly casting kit:

Just what a pregnant woman wants to do: sit still for 45 minutes while her stomach and breasts are covered with plaster of Paris. And what exactly are you supposed to do with this thing? The website offers a few ideas.

-Paint it and hang it on the wall. If I wanted my wife's belly and breasts greeting people as they walk into our house I would have married someone with less modesty.

-Use it as a pet bed.

-Use it as a serving dish for a large salad. Okay, this one isn't actually on the website but I did see a picture of someone who was using it as a fruit bowl.

3)CPR Teddy

This is one product that definately does not deserve mocking. It teaches parents infant CPR skills which is completely commendable. But keep in my mind these are my ideas for worst baby shower gifts. And this product's official website recommends this as a great shower gift. Nothing says party like a gentle reminder that imminent doom is always just around the corner.

4) Anarchy Onesie

I have a feeling this might send the wrong message to my baby. Might.

5) Zaky Infant Pillow

From what I understand these work very well at providing comfort for babies, especially preemies. And all the studies I read in my psychology classes would support that this product should bolster the ability to thrive in certain situations. But still, they creep me out. Plus, we all know the child in the above picture will eventually grow up to be this woman:

Week 9: The first ultrasound

I think it has my nose and her eyes, but I'm not sure whose yolk sac that is.

The first ultrasound showed the baby's heartbeat. I'm in awe.

Week 6: Guilty until proven innocent

I was not going to be that guy. I was going to be at every appointment, right there holding my wife's hand. I would be there for every occasion, whether uncomfortable or joyous, weird or wonderful. And today was the day: appointment number one. We started our day by lying to my mom in order to leave her office birthday lunch early. So far, the biggest side effect of my wife's pregnancy has not been morning sickness but rather lying to friends and family.

We arrive on time and take a seat in the lobby. I glance around at the happy couples. The nerves start to kick in as the whole thing begins to seem more real by the minute. As the nurse calls people in, husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, sometimes even entire families go back into the exam rooms. Others come out, smiling, possibly just finding out the gender of their baby or seeing the heartbeat for the first time. I start to wonder how any father-to-be would want to be that guy. Who would want to miss this stuff?

The time finally comes; the nurse call's my wife's name. We head toward the door to go back to the exam room. As I pass the nurse, she is mumbling something but she's not looking at me so I figure she's talking to the other nurse who is standing nearby. However, after a few more steps her words suddenly register in my brain. She is apparently speaking to my wife.

"He can wait out here. I'll take you to the room, go over a few questions, and then you'll come back out here to wait again."

"Oh, you want me to wait here?" I ask. The nurse, however, says nothing to me and continues to avoid my eyes. I take the 2 steps back into the waiting room and the door shuts in my face. I can slightly hear my wife plead my case on the other side of the door but the sound quickly fades as, I assume, the nurse takes her down the hall.



My mind is reeling. I sit down by the door and pretend to not be bothered. I open up the book I brought to read but for all I know it could be upside-down. In my mind I picture everyone in the waiting room to be looking at me, wondering what I did that caused the nurse to forbid my entry. Perhaps they think my wife gave the nurse some secret signal that let her know that I was just some creep who followed her in from the parking lot. I want to scream at them, "I am not a monster!" but ultimately decide that will make things mildly worse.

My wife fills me in later on what transpired inside. The nurse had her sign a paper that would allow me to accompany her at future appointments. The nurse processed her registration, weighed her in, and ordered some blood work and that was that. Apparently this wasn't really an appointment I needed to be at and I didn't miss any life altering moments.

Now don't get me wrong, I completely understanding wanting to make sure I'm not some abusive husband who is forcing my wife into a pregnancy she doesn't want, but the nurse could have spoken directly to me, or maybe just looked in my direction. I wonder now what she would have done if I never realized that she was speaking about me when I began to enter the hallway that led back to the exam room. Would a clothesline have been in my future? Perhaps she would have tackled me from behind. Regardless, I did learn that I need to calm down a little. I'm sure that no one in the waiting room really thought anything of the situation. In fact, many of the husbands in there probably went through the same thing.

One new piece of information did come from this appointment. After consulting a chart, Nurse Ratched said our due date is January 6th, although every other online calculator we've consulted has said January 1st-3rd. I'm rooting for the online calculator.

Week 5: We're pregnant!...Wait, are we?

There we stood in Aisle 11, surrounded by vitamins, medications, cotton balls, and the like.

"The digital test is 1 for $25 and the regular one is 2 for $17. Oh wait, Ralph's brand is 2 for $9.99."

A great beginning toward raising a fiscally responsible child.

Shopping is followed by eating lunch, a couple of sandwiches we brought home from the store. We eat quietly, pretending that we aren't about to possibly experience a life-changing moment. Neither of us mentions peeing or sticks, or the act of peeing on a stick.

Finally the time comes. We agree not to look until the three minutes has passed. After a few moments of smiling at each other, she asks, "How long has it been?"

"I thought you were keeping track..."

We decide it's been approximately three minutes and run to the sink. My joy quickly fades as I immediately see a bold negative sign. The line is thick and dark. Well, it is just our first try, there's always... and then I notice the ever-so-faint, barely visible, vertical line, turning the negative into a positive.

We continue to stare at the test. We pick it up and look closer. We hold it at various angles to get better light. We put it down and look at the instructions again. We hold the instructions at various angles.

"Is that positive?"

"I'm not sure. That line is really faint."

We understand now why people buy the digital test. We take some pictures with the test just in case it really is positive - we can always photoshop a darker line later. We make up our minds to hold off judgment until taking the second test tomorrow morning. But as we lay down on our bed and stare at each other, our smiles and the tears of joy landing on our pillows show that our hearts were already quite sure.

Week 3: No, you can't have the details

We have officially begun trying. I've known for a long time that when you get pregnant, you're supposed to wait a while before telling other people. I'm recognizing early that this may be a problem considering I had the desire at work today to tell people during business-related conversations that my wife and I gave it a shot last night. I realized this might be inappropriate and remained silent.

Week 1: The Immaculate Conception

The road to a new baby begins with a single... well, you know. Or do you? See, I thought I new how everything worked until my wife and I decided to start trying. Since I'm a slow reader, I figured I'd order a few books on pregnancy beforehand so I could get a head start. I buy the books online, get them in a few days and start reading, only to find out my wife is already pregnant without me doing a single thing! Now this was a shock to me. I had high hopes of being involved!

Don't worry; nothing salacious happened. Apparently this whole 40 weeks of pregnancy begins 2 weeks prior to conception. So "Week One" of pregnancy begins before the act that I always thought was the equivalent of pulling the trigger on the starting pistol - so to speak.
Now I know there are things going on inside of my wife involving eggs and ovaries and Fallopian tubes (don't quiz me on this). By the way, Fallopian Tube always sounded like a European model or some sort of evil villain: "Hello, my name is Fallopian Tube, prepare to meet your doom." Regardless, this process that occurs during the first two weeks of so-called pregnancy happens all the time. Why do they call it week one and week two of pregnancy? Can't we separate this out and just say there are 38 weeks of pregnancy and call this initial part something else... like preseason?

Oh well, this just means the 1st trimester will be shorter than expected and will go by so much faster, right? ... Right?

Introduction

I don’t know how to change a diaper. I’ve never played peek-a-boo. I’m not fluent in baby-talk and I’m pretty sure I’ll greet my future child with a handshake. Despite these things, I have always wanted children. Never have I wavered in that desire. I'm sure there are both selfish and unselfish reasons that I'll explore later but the truth is that being called "Dad" has always been in my mind as a cheerful inevitability.

I’m sure that from the outside-looking-in, one might be able to argue that I am not exactly the best possible candidate to be a dad. Of course I’ve been told the standard, “You’ll make a good father someday”, but I think everyone has to say that. In reality, I tend to shy away from any situation involving kids. My friends have a large gathering every week with multiple children. All of these gatherings tend to devolve into a big wrestling match at one point or another and I don’t envy the dad that is taking the elbow to the stomach or other vulnerable areas by three kids at once. If I were in his situation, my probable inclination would be to take the smallest child hostage, barricade myself inside the back bedroom, kick the screen out of the window and start running toward the nearby freeway where I could flag down some help. Okay, so maybe I’ve planned an exit strategy just in case.

Perhaps I feel this way because being around a big group of kids just takes me back to the schoolyard. Yeah, I wasn’t the most popular kid around. My childhood was mostly spent chasing imaginary vampires or werewolves, not playing kickball. The only incidences of physical horseplay during my adolescence involved putting my best friend in a headlock, and that was only out of pure necessity.

However, I am comforted by the prevailing wisdom that a completely new outlook happens once it is your child. I have seen that transformation take place, especially in guys. So sure, I’m unprepared and unqualified for fatherhood, but isn’t that true of most men? It might seem old-fashioned or even sexist to say but I believe that, for the most part, women are instinctively more nurturing. Oftentimes they may spend their childhood preparing for a baby: pushing their doll around in a stroller, giving it a bottle, watching it wet itself when you squeeze its stomach. (Note to self: do not do the last one with my real baby). Boys, on the other hand, don’t do much preparation. If my childhood playtime was preparing me for child rearing, then my little infant better be ready to take on the evil forces of C.O.B.R.A. So unless my child comes equipped with plastic accessories and a rubber band connecting the top half and bottom half, I'll be starting from square one as far as knowledge goes.

Despite my unpreparedness, this is a journey I have been looking forward to taking. The days to follow are sure to be filled with stress, ignorance, entertainment, bewilderment, and hopefully, most of all, joy. I'm guessing that over time, changing a diaper will be the least of my concerns.