Confessions of a First-time Father: Entry no. 3

The 9 Month Marathon.

Its quite amazing what an impact 2 little words can have on a person. Not just any 2 words, mind you. But a specific combination of words that, when heard, can leave you shaken and breathless as it slowly dawns on you that from this moment on, your life will be forever changed. Think about it.
“You’re fired.”
“It’s alive!!!”
……”We’re pregnant.”
Thankfully that first statement has never been directed at me.
And since i’m not a mad scientist, tinkering around in my poorly-lit basement with nothing but a stolen corpse and a dim-witted man-slave for company, that second statement is also foriegn to me. However, the same cannot be said for the last statement.
Allow me to demonstrate:
It’s about 9:30am, I’m at work, and I’ve just picked up my rining phone:
Me: Hello, Babe.
Cas: Hi, Love
Me: How are you this morning?
Cas: I’m pregnant.
Me: Fine, thanks…
Stunned silence from my side followed by an utterly redundant question:
Me: Um…what?
Cas: (laughs) Which word confused you there, Babe -  ”I’m” or “pregnant”?
Me: (silence)   (special note: if not for that initial shock, i would have had a snappy come-back for that little chirp!)

In all honesty, this was the last thing that i expected to hear from Cas that morning.
In hindsight, perhaps i should not have been so surprised:
I mean, i had known about the “birds and the bees” since grade 2, when a friend of mine burst the mother of all bubbles by highlighting the fact that a stork couldn’t possibly fly whilst holding a baby, and then explaining to me in lurid detail how it really had nothing to do with “little birds” and “little bees”, and that nobody actually got “stung”…
Secondly, we had been planning this since about 3 months prior when Cas stopped taking The Pill.
I guess i just didn’t expect it to happen so soon, and besides, no matter how ready you think you are for this, you’re never fully prepared.
OK, so we’re pregnant – groovy! Now i just wait right?
“Pfft!” my brother scoffed at me with a knowing look on his face, “Now the hard work starts, boet!”
“What?” I jokingly replied, “What about all the hard work i’ve been doing the past 3 months?? Huh?”

This brings me to another important lesson that no books nor any baby class taught me – 9 months of pregnancy, much to my surprise, is hard work!
I had always thought that the actual birth was the real hurdle - the main event that separates the boys from the men (and my woman from our baby!). There’s all of that high-pitched screaming, tightly-bunched sweaty fists hitting things, swearing and pushing….after a while though Cas calmed me down and so i stopped all of that. But to be honest, birth is like a slow walk in the park compared to the 9 month marathon that got us there.
Now let me clarify that i know that I am not the one who is pregnant here. I am not the one whose body is going to completely disown me and decide to do its own thing from here on out; nor am I the one who will, from time to time, become so chemically unbalanced that I’ll see nothing wrong with demanding that we get rid of one of our cats because “it won’t stop looking at me like that!”. And i know that I am not the person who, for 9 long months, has to contemplate the pain associated with squeezing something the size of a small watermellon out of somethng the size of a grape! (I mean, seriously, you’d think that God would have done some kind of usability testing on old Eve before he shipped her out!)
However, I am the one who has to live with this person! And so when she suffered, believe me when i tell you that i sufferd right there with her.
As i’ve stated before, I love Cas dearly and I honestly wouldn’t change a single day that we have been through together. However, it would have helped if i’d known just a few basic ‘rules’:

1. Not matter how much you may not want to at times, finish off every sentence of hers with the phrase”Yes, my love”
2. Sometimes she will need you to give her plenty of loves and kisses, and at other times she would rather scratch your eyes out than be touched by you. Know the difference between these vitually identical occasions.
3. After 6 months, FORGET about sex. I mean it. Don’t mention it. Don’t talk about it. Don’t even think it.
4. Don’t ever…and i mean EVER…walk into the house after a day’s work without some sort of “treat” (any kind of chocolate works well here). Neglecting to do this is the same as rubbing yourself down with meat sauce and stumbling into a hungry lion’s cage.
5. Let her have her “off” days – after all, she is carrying the most precious gift that anyone could ever give you!

So do try to remeber these the next time your loved one greets you with those 2 words.
Pregnency can be a long and often difficult journey, but it can also be beautiful at times. Eventhough there were moments when the end seemed nonexistant, and the prize not worth all this trouble, the truth is that even if our journey had been a thousand times more difficult than it actually was, i would still want to do it again!
And we will…

Confessions of a First-time Father: entry no.2

So i’m not Number 1 any more?

 

Sometimes life changes so quickly that you have to actually take a step back and try to figure out exactly what happened, and why you’re the last to know about it.

I was living the good life – I had my own house,  a fiancé who adored me, family that loved me and was always interested  in my life, and 3 cats that would occasionally acknowledge my existence and sit next to me on the couch. We usually did what I wanted, when I wanted to do it (well, mostly), and everyone around me was OK with that.

Now don’t get me wrong – I didn’t think that the world revolved around me – it’s just that for the last few years it kind of had. And it was good.

Allow me to demonstrate with a true-life dialogue that took place less than a year ago between Cas and myself:

 

Me: I’m bored….

Cas: (big sigh)You’re always bored, Babes

 Me: Let’s do something.

Cas: Well, like what?

Me: Let’s go out to lunch.

Cas: But I’m watching TV.

Me: Come on – this is lame.

Cas: Fine. Hey, what’s it like?

Me: What’s what like?

Cas: Getting your own way all the time?

Me: Oh it’s really good. You should try it sometime….just not when I’m  

       around, OK?(laughs). I’m lucky you love me so much aren’t I?

Cas: Yes, my love, (smiles) you’re very lucky.

 

Now allow me to skip to an actual conversation that took place about 1 month after Jayden was born. Cas was holding Jayden on her lap during one of his (at that stage) rare bouts of consciousness, and staring lovingly into his eyes.

 

Me: Do you like him?

Silence.

Me: Do you like him?

Silence.

Me: Hey Babe!

Cas: Hmmm?

Me: I said, do you like him?

Cas: Oh I loooooove him!!

Me: That’s nice. Do you like me?

Cas: Yes….(continues staring down at Jayden)

Me: (mock look of shock and hurt)

Cas: (realizing what she had said) No, I mean, obviously I love you too!

 

OK, what the heck was that?!

I know that she’s speaking English but I don’t understand a word of it! And why isn’t everything about me anymore??

Little Jayden is now the Sun around which his doting mother lovingly revolves.

And I, the “man of the house” have been relegated to ‘the man in the moon’, eclipsed by this tiny, precious, sweet little thing.

The strange thing is that nobody warned me about this; and in retrospect, how could such an oversight have been made? I went to the ‘baby’ classes and learnt all the “vital” things one needs to know before having a child. I learnt the 4 stages of labour; I practiced that ever-so-critical breathing technique that is so very helpful during labour (pfft!); I watched movies of young Swedish girls giving birth – movies that, believe it or not, were not at all fun to watch and would make the film “Basic Instinct” look like an episode of ‘Barney goes to the Seaside’! I even learnt about a woman’s ‘Show’ (for those of you who don’t know what this is, do try your best to keep it that way…..forever!).

Ironically, they did tell me to make sure that I give my wife extra TLC – “She’ll be a little emotional and will need your avid attention, love and support. Remember now, she’s just had a baby; be her rock.” Hmmm….I guess sitting quietly alone at the bottom of the garden could be construed as being a rock of sorts.

Ok, so I exaggerate to get my point across.

But this, unfortunately, is the way it is initially for us men.

However, I have since come to realise 2 very important lessons in all of this.

Firstly, this is exactly how it is meant to be. Being completely responsible for a brand new human life is a daunting responsibility, made even more so by the fact that this little thing can’t do anything voluntary except cry and suck (think about that). So if this is what it takes to make sure that my precious son gets everything he needs from his mother, at the moment that  he needs it, then so be it. After all, I can do plenty of things voluntarily J

And secondly, this situation is, in essence, an impermanent thing. After about a month or 2, once the talcum powder has settled (baby humour – sorry), you might not regain your title as “man of the house”. But rather you will attain a new, higher station as “father of the house”.

Believe me, this is far more rewarding!

Confessions of a First-time Father; Entry No. 1

Introduction.

There aren’t many times in my past which I can look back on and think, “Wow – that really changed my life” I mean, I like to think back on the fragments and snippets that i remember and that have meaning for me: my first proper kiss with a friend’s older (and hot!) sister; or the time my parents caught me lighting a fire inside the wooden treehouse we used to have (not a good story, that one!); the time i got a full length Spider-Man outfit for Christmas and became a real super hero; my first day of school; or the day i walked out of school for the last time. Now those are all ’special’ in some way or another, but there’s one particular time that marks a significant end of one part of my life and the begininng of another as clearly as the horizon marks the sky- January 27th 2008, 3:45 pm – the moment my sweet son was born.

All of my past triumphs and joys pale in comparison; even now (5 months later) it’s still dawning on me that i am a father; and my love for Jayden only grows stronger as the days become weeks and months. Life is more interesting than it has ever been and i’m loving it!

That being said, it’s time to tell you what this blog is really about.

This blog is dedicated to every first-time father who (during the 60 months of pregnancy) lovingly supported his wife, read all of the baby books, went to all of the pre-natal classes, and generally partook in all of the pre-birth rituals and events with gusto and a sense of excited pride….only to later discover that he now occupies a very distant second place in the new family setup i.e. mom and baby…………….and ‘ol’ wotshisname’ on the outside of a very tight circle. Hmmmm…how did that happen?

Don’t get me wrong – I love my son and wife with all my heart and wouldn’t change a single thing that we’ve been through the past 12 months. However, i feel that there are certain inevitable developments within the new family that the books and courses and videos of Swedish women giving birth just don’t prepare you for.

These are my confessions of a first-time father.

Dumb Laws

What is a law? Something put in place to govern society right? Something to structure our living, to maintain order in the presence of potential chaos; something to which we all abide because it is the right thing to do and it makes sense…Right?  PFFT!  This is definately not always the case.

I started writing this blog for one reason…picture this:

It’s Sunday. I’m preparing to have a few mates over for an afternoon of braaing and relaxing around the pool. I’ve just about got everything ready. Braai meat? Check. Charcoal and firelightwers? Check. Big pair of shiny new braai tongs that i got for Father’s Day? Check. Perfect sunny weather? Check! Beers? …Oh sh*t! I forget to get beers. Now this wouldn’t be a problem on any other day of the week; but today is Sunday, and we all know that it’s illegal to sell alcohol on a Sunday. Well i don’t want to sell any – I just need to buy some! I know that all the bottle stores are closed so I head on down to the local Spar to see if i can russel up a bottle or two of wine. (Yes i know – standing around a braai with a bunch of guys drinking a fine, lighly chilled Chardonnay is a bit gay, but as they say: “desperate times…)

Turns out that i probably would have had more luck trying to score some Grade ‘A’ Smack off the shop security guard, because despite my best attemps this shop manageress wouldn’t budge on her “NO alcohol sold on Sundays” stance. “But why can’t I?”, i asked like a petulant child. “It’s the law”, she said flatly. “Yes you’ve already mentioned that,” I reply, fighting the anger i feel rising from within as i contemplate an entire afternoon spent talking to my crazy friends completely sober! “But what is the reason?” i retort. She stares at me with a look of confusion and pity as if to say, “Poor chap. Didn’t i just tell you?”. I considered giving her a piece of my mind, you know – telling her that it’s not fair, and that she’s ugly and fat, and when she runs the ground shakes. But i thought better of it – personally any woman who is large enough to sell shade at the beach is not someone i want angry at me.

Now i’ve heard of some stupid laws in this country. Have you heard the one prohibiting young people in bathing suits from sitting less than 12 inches apart? Seriously! Google it. Well even that one makes partial sense (Pfft! Ye, that’s gonna put a serious dent in the high number of people having under-aged sex!). But you’re telling me that i can buy booze (and thus potentially get drunk) every working day of the week but not on one of my precious days off from work? I can drive to a bar/club miles from home purchase and consume copious amounts of alcohol, and then have to drive home again, but i can’t relax with friends at my own house with a few beers? Also, doesn’t being able to but the alcohol on any other day for consumption on a Sunday defeat the whole object?! It’s a Christian thing they say. Hmmm….we seem to go out of our way to emphasise the multitude of different cultures and religions in this country and to respect the rights and freedoms of all but all of a sudden, when Sunday comes, we must forceably partake in this (outdated) Christian custom? Who are ‘they’ to enforce a religious custom onto me? And come on! What is the point of that law anyway?

So i postponed my braai to Monday night – just gonna call in sick on Tuesday: i’ll tell my boss i’m suffering from religious stigmata that cause sever dehydration, headaches, and the involuntarily urge to vomit all over the place!