So the biggest event of my life is supposed to go down next Thursday. That’s the day our lil baby boy is supposed to be delivered via c-section. My brain is exploding.
I’m not sure I have ever been this happy/confused/excited/paranoid/over the moon/crazy before.
I have a constant worry that I have fucked up and I’m forgetting something major, so I’m going through all the baby stuff in my mind constantly.
But where it gets great for me is anytime I freak out and worry too much, the thought of holding this lil guy makes me smile and seems to wash away the worry.
I’m so excited to see his face, to see his lil fingers, to just hold him.
I went a lil nutty with his bedroom and convinced my dear sweet wife that his room should like some sort of mario dream barfed all over it. It looks pretty fucking sweet, and the mario mushroom lamps are gonna be the best night lights ever.
I know I should be concerned about the whole lack of sleep about to come, the poop, the barf, the everything, but I’m not, I just want to hold my son.
Fuck, I can’t believe I just said “my son”.
Am I seriously that old? Can I possibly be a good enough person to raise and guide a brand new life? I get about a million of these questions in my head daily, and my wife calms me down every time and makes me feel better about it all every time.
I guess that clumsily leads me to the next major thing to chat about, my wife.
She is FUCKING AMAZING.
Now don’t get me wrong, I know she has no real choice in any of this, I mean the body is gonna do what its gonna do, but dear lord I’m proud of her. I wouldn’t trade for any of the shitty things she has had to put up with ever.
Puking, needles, stretched skin, reorganized organs, a kid that loves to kick the shit out of her bladder, being forced out of her only comfortable sleeping positions, and about four hundred million other things.
But here’s the most amazing part, she smiles, she jokes, and she glows with more love than anyone should ever be allowed to have. She turns every one of those shit things or situations into a way to improve her patience, or just a bad joke she can laugh about later. She smiles about the fact that at the end of this all she is going to have a beautiful baby boy. She cries at the worst to commercials, tv shows, and movies, but thats just cause she has far too much love built up in that cute preggo body of hers, and its gotta escape somehow.
I’m praying that I can have the same amount of patience, love, and hapiness she has shown already once this lil guy pops out.
She amazes me, and she will without a doubt be the best friggin mom ever. And yes, I know you my dear reader might be a mom, and you might be pretty awesome, but you wont be her, deal with it, try to be better, call her for tips.
I honestly thought at this point I would be in a coma from fear, instead im more afraid of taking a shitty photo with the new camera… well that, and im debating if I will actually puke if I try and take a picture of the c-section…
Anyways, I’m gonna go play with the camera, and ponder a lil letter I want to write to my boy… more on that later.
The Fat Guy
