This is not Nanette. This is Brent: the husband who's been (lovingly) harassed by Nanette with repeated requests to do a guest blog post on Nanette's blog. Common conversation at home over the last five months:
Nanette: When are you going to do a post for my blog?
Brent: What?
Nanette: ...about how excited you are to be a dad!
Brent: I am very excited. I will.
Nanette: Thank you. Your nonspecific commitment to perform the requested action had the desired effect of momentarily placating me and I will now return to watching an inane reality show about [babies/many babies/people who act like babies].
And I really was down with the idea of the guest post, but I also had a lot of time left before the birth. Shouldn't a reflection on pending fatherhood be written at the point of greatest anticipation and as the due date neared, wouldn't anticipation increase dramatically? I decided that waiting until the last possible moment would guarantee a monumental outpouring of truth and emotion. With an October 19th due date, I had plenty of time to whip myself into a father-to-be frenzy. The plan was sound - as of Sunday morning, I had nearly two weeks left to write something epic!
The plan was flawed.
Apparently due dates are just an "estimate."
Babies have no respect for other people's deadlines.
As of Sunday night, I am a dad!
Our stunning baby girl (aka Em Dash) was born at 11:14 pm on October 5th. Hailing from LA and tipping the tiny scale at 7 pounds, 15 ounces, she enjoys tiny hats and completely catching her parents off guard. Fortunately, her decision to get life started many days ahead of schedule has had no ill effect on mother nor daughter and both are healthy and happy.
Here's where my ridiculous procrastination pays off. Pre-dad hypothesis has nothing on the actual dad scenario. I could have said I was excited about her birth - gross understatement. It's the single most amazing thing I've ever seen. I might have guessed that my daughter would be beautiful. Wrong - she's completely stunning. Most importantly, I wouldn't have been able to explain the enormity of this event. I would have come up short. Even when my daugther is crying with ferocity and doing unspeakable things to a diaper, I'm overwhelmed by how much I already love her. There aren't proper words, so I'm glad I didn't try.
I'm also guessing that while I would have said how much I love Nanette, I wouldn't have given Nanette adequate props. I saw her give birth with my own eyes and my brain still can't quite process the event. Other than a case of pregnancy cankles that will live on in myth and legend, my wife was a pillar of pregnancy poise. That is up to and including the point yesterday when Nanette somewhat matter of factly announced that her water had likely broken and that immediate advancement toward a hospital was prudent and necessary. She'll be along later for a more detailed baby-having account that will probably include the words "bundt cake," "overhead lighting" "tarry," "exhausted" and "stupendous."
Hugs and kisses,
Brent
(PS - in this crazy Interweb-enabled age, I'm compelled to make the following request - we aren't sure when or if we'll publicly unveil our baby girl's name. Please refrain from mentioning her name here in comments on this blog or anywhere else online. Thanks!)
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