Tomorrow will be the fourth time I have marched down a similar road with my wife. Tomorrow morning Jennifer will give birth and we will become a family of six (that is a “V” followed with an “I”) and it doesn’t matter how I type it, it is still the same. That is eight little feet running around, eighty fingers and toes needing socks and sanitizer. This now means further explanation at the bank window as to why I need four suckers (all the same color, please) - additionally, cleaning out the family van will become increasingly frustrating. Eventually, that is four kids meals on the days we decide to brave a restaurant together and the “one token games” for any future Chuck-E-Cheese’s trips are greatly appreciated.
The stockings being hung by the chimney with care are becoming a pleasantly crowded collection of eclectic individualism at the Christmas season. Our Christmas tree has already become significantly decorated with “baby’s first Christmas” ornaments followed by “baby’s first year” and every Sunday school ornament project since. Our house is filled with laughter, tears, bikes, trikes, balls, dolls and plenty of little helping hands when we make cookies or take out the trash. I have always joked about the reason for having children is to have someone cut the yard and tote wood - we are closer and closer to that reality. I have dog feeders, flower waterers, fish catchers and leaf rakers. I have tree climbers, star gazers, dirt diggers and bug liberators. I have three children who are, strangely enough, all opposite of each other [how is that even possible in a trio?] who discover the world as they know it in their own way and wrapped in their own imaginations and conclusions. I have boys who protect their sister and a li’l girl who is as much a little girl as any little girl can be and is anxiously looking forward to mimicking mommy at every turn in the preparation and care of her new baby brother.
My children love Mommy & Daddy and although I do my best to trick them into saying I am their favorite parent, they are too wise [or loyal to Mommy] for my paternal trickery. One of them doesn’t want to hurt my feelings and will respond with “Daddy, you know I love you both the same” while another simply says “Mommy!” as if it was a stupid question to begin with, and then the third will answer in the way that is most beneficial in the moment; in the end, I know Mommy is truly the favorite regardless of the answer.
I do think of myself as a veteran in this area of a new baby with previous experience under my belt for this process, yet, there is always the moment for which I long that is after the admissions process, after the instructions from assistants, doctors, nurses in the O-R prep room for surgery, when all has been done to usher us in and take that baby from Jennifer’s womb. It is the moment when I hear the first whimper of a cry and see for myself that little fellow being measured and weighed, and then will I breathe a sigh of relief, snap a few pictures with one camera while dizzily videoing the room with another. In that moment of solace my world will seem to stop briefly as I witness the introduction of mother and child in a world that is both no longer divided and yet severed at the same time. I can’t wait for the sweet moment of tears and joy as a new life emerges with body and soul. I long to hold that baby boy and see his little eyes and ears and nose. I long to grasp his little fingers ever so gently and think about how tiny his little fingers are, to look into his little eyes and see the blank slate of learning before me. I look forward to seeing the relief on Jennifer’s face after nine months of preparation and the beginning of a new relationship occurs. I look forward to holding him high in the air and being thankful to have been found a worthy parent to be given the responsibility of molding and shaping yet one more child.
Yes, today is the day before the night before four, and I feel like I kid on Christmas Eve waiting to see what tomorrow brings.
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