According to Google, pregnancy is a blessing. And a hypercoagulable state, whatever that is. Oh God. Do I need to worry about this? I’m not going to google that to find out.
For the wife, pregnancy has been the thing that made her barf in her hand that one time in the middle of kitchen, upon smelling the dog food that was sitting in the other room across the house. It has been the thing that makes her crave pancakes. It has been the thing that makes her burst into tears simply by announcing how much she loves the baby inside her.
For me, pregnancy has been a humbling experience between me and God, by which I mean, it has been a complete ass-kicking from God. But, in God’s defense, I needed it.
We found out the wife was pregnant two days before my mom died. She was in a coma when I told her about her first grandchild. There was no response except for the ventilator tube mechanically sighing and my father crying.
That’s not fair. I hate it. I’ve let go of a lot of pain, but not that one. I carry that one around burning.
So look, I wouldn’t even try to go toe-to-toe with God. You can’t. God has a plan.
But look, I was a kid who used to challenge the department store Santas and wack-looking Easter Bunnies, much to my mother’s humiliation. She was just trying to get a cute picture of her kid, and I was sitting there arms-crossed, skeptical, and vainly emboldened, telling them how fake they looked.
I don’t think you can hurt the feelings of mall Santas. I don’t think you can hurt the feelings of God. So I won’t put that burning part down. I’ll carry that up like a torch to his very face, and say that part — that part of the plan — was bullshit. And somewhere, my mother will be cringing.
I’m thankful, too. I am humbled. The pregnancy has been an incredible blessing. It has spared me so much grief and filled me with excitement and hope.
It has also terrified us. We’ve had an “eventful” pregnancy, full of scares and bedrest for the wife, leaving me with EVERYTHING ELSE TO DO IN LIFE. The baby has been fine the whole time, totally chilling. Thank you God for that, but also God, you know me. You know I have a few thoughts about all the anxiety. And I feel like, it’s like, well…
Fuck it. I got nothing. You have the controls. I’ll just be, you know, over here, getting repeatedly whupped into submission/shape/parenthood.
Day 187. I still suck at cooking eggs. 93 days to go.