(Note: All of the past stuff from my blog has fallen into disuse and disrepair,. I just wasn't keeping up on it, and if you really had a hankering to go back in time between 2004-2010 or so when I was regular, it's a pretty good snapshot of how my poor scattered brain functions on the regular- like a super ball on a trampoline. In the interest of keeping things brief, or brief-to-me, and maybe seeming more like "real writing" and not abstract ditherings, I wanted to change the name of my blog and start talking openly about our experience with going through child birth in all it's gory glory. I don't think we'll have much in terms of super new content, but it's not every day you wind up having a kid in your mid-forties either. Hope you enjoy!)
"All I'm asking, is that you don't rule it out entirely. Is that okay?"
Chapter 1
Entering the Summer of 2014 was more or less the start of a lot of high level changes in my life. Mom's cancer came back and along with it a terminal diagnosis. I'd lost an uncle, had parts of my house fall into pricey disrepair, came off of one of the coldest Minnesota Winter's in history which created the experience of the kind of climate that does not bode well for lake levels (ALGAE BLOOM!?) nor blooming garden projects. Still, we were way off of the world at large going to hell in a handbasket that we've been experiencing since the election. I was still gainfully employed and enjoying my job. I was getting ready to head up North to do Summer Stock for the second year in a row- which is always a hot ticket. We had a lake house in the metro area, and my girlfriend's serene family cabin to enjoy. OH, along that last point- my roommate of the previous 8 years was going to move out, and the woman who would be my future wife was going to be moving in.
We had joked about marriage et.al. It was going to be my first time cohabiting with a partner in nearly a decade, and while it was less of a big deal than it was when I was younger, it still had the air of permanence. I would be turning 40 by the end of the year, and while I didn't *feel* 40, and having lived my life kind of moment to moment up until then (and without the kind of worry and anxiety I'd face in the coming years), I came to accept my love as being the only one for me. Writing this makes it seem harsh, but coming from the places we were when we entered our relationship a few years prior (I had somehow imagined my last bout of bachelorhood was going to be full of excitement and intrigue and RAGING, but here I ended up finding my love and falling for her.)
And here we are. Also, raging in your late thirties is exxxxxhausting.
Anyway, a lot of our close friend group were cohabiting or married already. Even as a worrisome procrastinator, I still didn't feel too pressing a need to settle down and start a family. If my friends did have babies, it was always nice to visit and return said infant to mom and dad at the end of the night. But I could tell, like you can, that my wife *loved* holding the pampalonies. She'd visit with family and friends and snuggle their beebs so they could get a shower or a nap. She changed diapies, played peek-a-boo, and basically demonstrated qualities that said "I want to be a mom".
And I loved seeing her joy, I just...wasn't there. I had a niece and nephew I adored, and at the time they were my favorite audience in the world. Babies were just...delicate. And I'm a bull.
SO, we attended a friend's birthday party before I was to shuffle off to Bemidji for theater camp, and the remarkable thing was that I was in a room full of gentlemen who had all recently had a vasectomy. (record scratch) Once I got all of my crass jokes out of the way ("So, when you orgasm does it come out like a fine powder? Like dusting a bundt cake?") I sort of marveled at their commitment . Because for all the friends expanding their families? There were nearly an equal amount of my dear friends who choose not to. Which is kind of a cool way of saying I have a well rounded group of friends who defy what it means to have a nuclear family. I digress. And brag.
Heading home, my wife and I had a conversation that ended with the opening statement of this story. And of course I wasn't about to say no. Over the coming months, it'd be a contentious conversation with some of my other friends ("How can you say you'll marry her, she wants kids and you don't...and say it's 'OK'?!!?") I guess... because how am I supposed to know who I was going to be after we moved in together? After we got married? I literally didn't and still don't, really, know who I was.
So Uncertainty + Laziness ='s X when it came to fatherhood. After years of making a lame joke that I was sterile (Reeeeeelax. I never used it as an excuse to avoid using protection.) or that "I can barely take care of myself, how can I be expected to take care of a tiny human?!?!" I just sort of figured it either wasn't in the cards, or at some point in the future if my (wife) wanted to discuss it- I wouldn't coldly close the door on the issue.
There was just this little thing called "we should get married first".
And my mom's health (and eventual passing.).
And my credit card debt. (Which I already didn't want my future wife to absorb)
And lastly...what I attributed to be a complete and utter black hole when it came to what paternal responsibility was...outside of being able to make fart jokes and be silly.
In short, I was unprepared. So I just dropped it and didn't bother to bring it up again.
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