Geek Dad-To-Be: T-minus One Month


…give or take. And with the date rapidly approaching, I’ve hit a rather major dilemma. The realization that I would likely be kicked out of the hospital if, while my wife is recovering, I start knocking on other doors in the maternity overnight stay part of the hospital and say “I’ve been sent from the future to stop your child.” Is it weird that having that actually happen has worked its way into my list of irrational soon-to-be-a-dad concerns? Yes, I know this anxiety both is and isn’t the plot of The Terminator, but I blame the Vlogbrothers and their Evil Baby Orphanage, a sanctuary set up deep in the Himalayas where babies who are going to grow up to be evil are sequestered and raised in a more loving environment. It nicely ties up both the nature and the nurture halves of the argument.

It also needs to be an anthology. I already have my story outlined in my head. Are you listening, Vlogbrothers?

My dad and I had lunch yesterday while my wife and mom were off at the baby shower. Discussion got onto child raising advice. We appear to be in the post-For-Dummies era when it comes to advice, as a generation that grew up self identifying as nerds and geeks suddenly discover they’re going to be parents. And so while we have the classic “What To Expect…” trilogy, I’ve taken to pouring over The Baby Owners Manual which takes the approach of child raising couched in the terminology of the owner’s manual. I’m reading other books while preparing, but it’s nice to have something to fall back on that reinforces the information, but has a little more fun with it.

I still have phases of disbelief and moments that reality overwhelms me all at once. I expect these may last for a few more months. Who knows, maybe a few more years. I have this odd fear that it’ll never feel entirely real.

And that’s one of my other anxieties, living right alongside the kidnappers-from-the-future one. In a way, it’s nice to have a silly anxiety to fall back on.

We’ve been through classes on what to do when my wife says “it’s time,” which will probably involve me panicking and making at least two wrong turns even though the drive to the hospital is a subset of my daily commute to work. We’ve toured the hospital, where I learned that the chair provided for the dads in the recovery room reclines “a little” which is to say you can slump down in it. We’ve had classes about what to do after we bring our newborn home, because for some reason they’re going to trust us with a newborn that they’ll just let us take home from the hospital what the fuck?

Though on the bright side, my mom did get us a bib very similar to this one. Because she’s my mom and she rocks. And she probably doesn’t work for the time traveling kidnappers.

I don’t think.

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