As I sit here in my office writing this week's column, I'm having a little trouble focusing -- actually, let's make that a lot of trouble -- I'm having a lot of trouble focusing. My brain is going in a thousand directions and has been for nearly a week now. Last week we were at the doctor for a routine visit. He checked the baby's heartbeat and took some measurements. We talked about the weather and how they got hit with more snow than we did.
Then he said it.
"Well, this was our last four-week break. Now we'll be seeing each other every two weeks."
For those who don't understand why this has sent my brain into a tailspin, let me explain. In one of our first doctor's visits, he told us that when we got down to the end of the pregnancy we would start seeing him every two weeks. When we got down to the end of the pregnancy, we would start seeing him every two weeks. Down to the end of the pregnancy. See him every two weeks. Every two weeks. End of the pregnancy. END OF THE PREGNANCY!
That echoed in my head like some ominous voice from the clouds announcing "The end is nigh," and had similar implications. Nothing will ever be as it was.
Now everything I've read says eventually the father, especially first-timers, reach a point where he realizes that the baby isn't going to just live in his partner forever. It's coming out. She's coming out ... and soon.
So here I sit, the little mouse running the wheel in my head is exhausted and I still can't come up with a focused thought to write about ... so I'm going to give you all of the thoughts (or at least as many as I can cram into this space). Not sure how crazy this will get so buckle up and keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.
I bought a new phone, an Android-based device, a few weeks ago. When I turned it on and didn't instantly know every single thing about it, I got very angry at this phone. "Why isn't it just like my other phone? Why isn't this just like my iPhone?" During the first few days I just got angrier and angrier. Then it hit me, how am I going to be a dad? How am I going to love and care for and provide for this beautiful baby girl when I can't even figure out this stupid phone? Why am I calling it stupid? It's just a phone. Maybe I'm the one that's stupid. ARGH!
In the end, it didn't work out between me and the phone. I gave it the typical it's-not-you-it's-me speech and sent it packing ... something I don't think I can do with a baby.
I hate pink. Why is everything everywhere pink? It's next to impossible to find items that aren't at least somewhat pink. Why? Oh, and if you do find a nice little not-pink dress from GAP it's $40. For a dress for a 3-month old. A dress she might be able to wear 3-4 times before outgrowing it. No. No. And why aren't there any little girls' Spider-Man shirts?
She's going to think I'm a total nerd, I know it.
I think I'm going to go to the store and buy a baby doll and a pack of diapers so I can practice my diapering technique. I'm terrible at things like wrapping presents or putting on Band-Aids so a bit of practice might be beneficial for me and my daughter.
I love my dog. A lot. In fact, I love my dog more than most people. But there have been a few times -- especially on particularly busy days -- where I will wake up at 3 a.m. and realize, "Oh no, I never fed the dog!" I love this dog more than almost anything else in the whole world and I forgot to feed him. Am I going to do that with Caroline? No, I wouldn't do that. Right? Someone tell me I would never forget to feed my own daughter.
I want to be a good dad, as any normal human being would, but what if I'm terrible at it? I mean, there's no way of knowing until the damage is done. To drive a car I have to pass a series of tests, but I can just have a baby. Anyone can. I can have as many babies as I want. I'm doing everything I can to ensure I'll be a good dad. I'm reading every little thing I can read about having kids and what it takes to not only be a parent, but be a dad specifically. But still, what if I'm bad at it?
When I was a kid, I loved basketball. I wanted to be a professional basketball player. But no matter how many technique books I read (first sign pointing to nerdom is learning sports from a book) or how much I practiced, I wasn't any good. In my brain it made sense how one could dribble the ball down court, juke a player and make a layup, but then my brain had to outsource the job to my pudgy un-coordinated limbs and the whole idea fell apart. What if having a baby is the same way? What if in my brain I know how to be a good parent but the rest of me really botches the whole thing?
The truth is, as excited as I am to be a dad, all of my insecurities and inadequacies are rushing up sending me into a bit of a panic. What if I can't do this? What then? Every book I've read says I'll go through this, that it's normal and I'l be fine. But will I?
I had a brief break from this craziness happening in my head Sunday night. Ashley grabbed my hand, placed it on her stomach and after a few minutes I felt something. After a few more minutes I felt it again. It was her. It was Caroline. Everything kind of fell into the background and I thought, "What if I can do this?"
Follow me on twitter at @TheJediDad or visit thejedidad.wordpress.com for more. May the force be with you.
cpinkard@blythevillecourier.com