Baby Daddy 3: What the Fuck Are We Doing?

Okay. This is the post that I think everyone has been waiting for. There are no particular stories. There are no particular jokes. This is where I discuss that "What the Fuck?" moment when you realize that you're going to have a child. This is a long post, so strap-in and strap-on. Here we go.

First and foremost, I want to discuss the commend "We're pregnant". That phrase is bullshit. I do not have a small child growing inside of me. In fact, my job is relatively easy. I try to keep my wife comfortable and prepare the house for a new child. Part of that is making sure that I do not lose my shit. My wife, I think, is. To be fair, she expected that we would have a couple extra months before having a child. I told her my boys were going to be strong swimmers, but she doubted. Well, for the record, called it! But! I am not pregnant. My wife is. And in the future, when you read what I write and I say "we", keep in mind that it is the "we" of solidarity. In the end, she is the one who has the hard work.

Speaking of hard work, I would like to discuss the fucked up nature of pregnancy. First of all, and my wife agrees with this point, unborn children are parasites. I can hear it now. "How can you say that?! Human life is a treasure, no matter what the age!". Well fuck you, you're wrong. The definition of a parasite is, "an organism that lives in or on another organism (its host) and benefits by deriving nutrients at the host's expense". Now tell me, does that not describe an unborn child? Unless the organism is surviving on its own, it is a parasite. My wife took it a step further, saying that children are an STD. She said that men are the carriers and women are the infected. Think about it. It's fucked up, but true. It is also terrific fodder for when our kid grows up and acts like a little shit. We can comment on how they were a glorious parasite for 9 months and to have some respect. 

I do look forward to having kids. My wife asked if I want a boy or girl. I told her that I don't care, as long as the child is healthy. I look forward to carrying them in the flak jacket. My own little human shield. I made that joke and Noelle thought I was a terrible person. My wife laughed, so ha! Unfortunately, I expect I will be making a lot of jokes. That's really all you can do. This is some serious shit. I could panic, but that won't help. I can prepare, but eh. So, I'm going to enjoy the ride. 

One word of caution, never...EVER...look online about what a "normal" pregnancy looks like. My wife is only in the first trimester, and not even to the point of an ultrasound. If you Google what to expect, it is terrifying! In one article, you read that a certain experience is 100% normal. In another, you read about how the same goddamn experience is the sign of a potential miscarriage or cancer. "Oh, my wife is tired and has back pain". WebMD: Your wife is dying and the baby is lost. Fuck. That. I found a preggers site that indicated the fatigue was from hormonal shift and the pain is from my wife's body stretching to meet the demands of the pending child. Now that is less terrifying.

On a related note, be ready to get paranoid as fuck. Is that a healthy food for the baby? Are there specific vitamins? Is it safe to travel? Is there a problem that we drank like motherfuckers for Independence Day, not knowing that we had a bun in the oven? The answer to that last question is "no". My wife was worried about it. I told her to look at how many children are born after their parents get schwasty-facedd and shag on Superbowl Sunday. If they can survive, our baby will survive. And if they have her genetics, then the kid is going to be a genius. If that's the case, perhaps it's good that she did drink the wine. It may just save the kid from being too smart. And yes, I am being the idealistic father, assuming my kid is the new Savior. And fuck you, it's my kid. 

Every time I mention my wife's genetics, however, she likes to joke that mine will dilute them. I told her that I just want our kid to have my strength capacity, my work ethic, and for any sons to have my beard growing ability. Speaking of sons, I flip back and forth between wanting a son or daughter. I actually do not care, as long as they're healthy. With that said, there are a lot of responsibilities. I need to teach our kid to love and respect themselves. I need to teach them to be strong. Teach them to work hard, and believe in themselves. I want our kids to believe they are the best in the world, but also be humble enough to know that they are no better than anyone else. I want our kids to be good drinkers. Yeah, fuck you, I said it. When our kid is old enough to drink, they best be able to hold their shit together.  I want to expose my children to the darkness in the world, while simultaneously showing them how to bring light to it. 

I do have fears, though. I fear that I'm going to fuck up, and leave something out that hurts our kid. I also fear that I will have to go dress shopping. And before you jump to conclusions, that may be for a son or daughter. That's right, I said it. If we have a son, and he wants to wear a dress, then that boy will wear a dress! And he will look fabulous as shit! And you know what? I'll be wearing a dress, right there with him. And that's the part I fear. Not wearing a dress, but finding one that fits. My hips are narrow and my back/shoulders are thick. I'mma be hard as fuck to fit. If my daughter wants a dress, then I may still have to wear a dress. Why? If my daughter says she wants us to wear matching dresses then we will both be fabulous as fuck. Don't hate, appreciate.

But I digress. I think that is the sum of my current thoughts on the matter. I'm excited for the coming baby. I get the same nervous excited feeling with this, that I do with going for a PR in squats or deadlifts. It's the feeling of "I've never done this, and it's terrifying" mixed with "I'm going to absolutely kick-ass." It also happens to be the same sensation I had with proposing to my wife, getting married, and having the second wedding. I know my wife is going to read this, and probably laugh a bit. She might even panic a bit. But fuck it. This is happening, and it is going to be great. Plus we have one of the greatest groups of family and friends to to help us through. 

The question in the title is "What the fuck are we doing?" And my answer is, not a goddamn clue. But fuck it, let's see what happens.