Someone once told me that nothing changes your life as much as when you find out your expecting. Now I know he was right. Though it seems like only yesterday, actually three weeks have passed since I awoke to my wife screaming from the bathroom for me to come look at two straight lines on a home pregnancy kit. Hesitant to get our hopes up prematurely we quickly decided to opt for a second opinion. An immediate visit to the doctor confirmed our suspicions. "You're definitely pregnant," he announced.
In just a few short weeks we are becoming the quintessential parents to be. We pair first names with our last name to see how they sound. We map out where new furniture will go in the back bedroom. Our nightstand is stacked with books titled The Mother of All Pregnancy Books, Pregnancy Sucks and Pregnancy Sucks: For Men, the last of which I confess I purchased of my own volition. We have books on naming Baby, raising Baby and decorating for Baby. We question who to tell and when. What about budding grandparents? Should some friends know before others? At what point do you tell the boss?
While we're excited to step into the parental mold, we strive to avoid stumbling into certain stereotypes. No one likes going to a dinner party only to find you're seated next to the couple who only talks about their kids? Even more annoying (and rude) is the child-wielding couple who nags childless people wanting to know: (a) why they don't have kids; and (b) when they plan to get some. On a different note, I hope I can instill enough self-worth in my child so that after he makes the honor roll, I don't have to cement his ego with a bumper sticker.
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