Someone once said, “It’s never a ‘good’ time to have a baby.”
It took me awhile, but I finally realized this advice isn’t a literal warning against having a baby, as in, “Whoa buddy! Having a baby is a real bad idea! Don’t do it … ever.” Instead, I’ve since realized it to be a tidbit of comforting guidance ensuring that all things in life (finances, career, home, etc.) don’t have to be in a perfectly aligned, ideal state of nirvana before jumping on the baby train to diaper town. And, believe me, this is a good thing because the baby train at the French house has been full steam ahead for awhile now.
In doing the math, we’ve been pregnant right around 50% of our married years. “Crazy!” you say? Yes. Very. The good news is, though, it is now at the age of thirty that we have finally figured out what has been causing this pregnancy thing.
Everyone knows pregnancy will stretch and grow the mother-to-be, both literally and figuratively, but I have done my fair share of stretching, as well.
Much of this growing has come through the fact that I have lived with five different pregnant women over the last eight years. Now, before you start getting the wrong idea, give me a few sentences to explain. I say this because each pregnancy seems to bring out a new person in my wife that I’ve never seen before – no baby pun intended.
The Carnivore – She’s woken me from my sleep on numerous occasions to go fulfill late night pizza, bacon cheeseburger, and chicken fried steak cravings.
The Little Old Lady – I’ve massaged feet. I’ve massaged legs. I’ve massaged hips. I’ve massaged the lower, upper and middle halves of the back. Heck, I’ve massaged elbows. All for my darling little (rotund) old lady.
The Fashionista – I’ve packed away her pre-pregnancy pants, only to pull them back out the next day for “one more try” – only to repack them again after hearing a certain series of choice words coming from the closet.
The Philanthropist – I’ve had to supply fresh boxes of tissues every time the five o’clock news gets a little too emotional. If I remember correctly, one particular episode had something to do with a baby bird being injured in a wildfire.
The Acupressurist – I can’t tell you how many pressure points I’ve been instructed to press, push and knead to try to induce labor “naturally.” Some friendly advice for fathers-to-be: flicking the big toe doesn’t actually induce labor.
Yes, things can get pretty interesting around our household.
The truth is that dads go through a different type of growing during the nine months of pregnancy. You may not be able to see the changes taking shape on our exterior, but our hearts and minds are slowly starting to grasp the concept that we will soon be responsible for loving and caring for another life. I am convinced that the true reason pregnancy lasts nine months is so that the future dad has enough time to wrap his head around the whole idea.
With each of our pregnancies, my paternal instincts have developed at different rates. For me, this journey to fatherhood usually starts with fear. I fear that we won’t have enough money in the bank account to raise a child. Which, by the way, the financial part of having a baby almost never makes sense on paper but always finds a way of working itself out. I fear the house isn’t big enough or the car might break down. I fear that I won’t know how to teach my daughters to be strong and proud of who they are when facing the criticisms of the world that are sure to come. I fear that I will miss key opportunities to dig in the mud or wrestle with my boys because I am too focused on climbing the corporate ladder.
As I struggle through my fear, I eventually end up thinking about the other fathers in my life: my grandfathers, my father, and my father-in-law. All great men who have gone before me and who have had a hand in molding the man I am today. This fear then slowly starts to metamorphose into excitement and visions of what is to come as I realize the blessing that being a father is and dream of the impact I will make on future generations. What a weighty honor to be my family’s patriarch. The man my children’s children will someday tell stories of.
These emotions can start to get fairly heavy for a soon-to-be father right around the 40 week mark. Add that to some closely-timed contractions and the anticipation of my wife’s water breaking and, well, perhaps you can understand my nerves in the story of my daughter’s birth … Suddenly, each time, I’ve found myself in a heightened state of last-minute panic. Am I going to have to deliver this baby on the highway? Do I remember the birth plan? How late is the hospital cafeteria open? It wasn’t just one, but many of our trips to the delivery room that included phrases such as “slow the car down, sweetie” or “you have to breathe …just breathe” as my wife tried to calm my franticness.
But, then, each time, that moment would finally come and I would find myself holding my wife’s hand as I heard the first cry of my newborn child. The fear faded. My mind, my soul, my heart stretched further, wider, deeper than I ever knew possible. And it is in these moments that I knew for certain that all things were right in the world.
So yes, dads do get the lighter load in pregnancy. I am sure we can’t even begin to comprehend the sacrifice mothers go through both emotionally and physically to bring a new life into the world. But, as dads, we also stretch and we do grow: and just like after any pregnancy, our stretch marks serve as another permanent reminder of one of life’s most incredible journeys.
Chris French survives the chaos of four children five and under with his wife of eight years, Allison. Their loud and unpredictable dailies can be found on their family blog, Life with the Frenchs. When he isn’t masterminding electronic medical records at Cerner, doesn’t have children hanging from every appendage or isn’t making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he can usually be found in the middle of some sort of house project that always, always takes longer than he intends.
