May 26, 2010
It was a kazoo. A kazoo sitting on the butcher block in the middle of the kitchen. Or at least something that looked like a kazoo sitting on the butcher block in the middle of the kitchen. The fact that it was sitting on a salad plate didn’t really convey the seriousness of the situation, the fact that this kazoo-like object would completely change everything about my life, my best laid plans etc etc etc. So when I got closer and saw what it actually was, only one thought ran through my head:
I am 53 years old. I’ve never had kids. My life was simple, easy, planned out according to the path of least resistance. Now when I reach in my seventies I’ll be getting the senior citizen discount at Burger King while my kid graduates from high school.
“This was not in the plans,” I said over and over and over again. “This was not in the plans, not in the plans, nope, not in the plans” until finally I realized…
Maybe this was in the plans.
See, my mother passed away in December. She certainly must have had without a shadow of a doubt something to do with this. After all, my wife Aimee got the word from the doctor a few years back that it might be a little tough for her to have kids. And at 53 I figured whatever sperm I had left were more prone to just phone it in rather than actually make an effort. But lo and behold, there it was.
The pregnancy device test thing.
“It has to be the neighbor’s,” was my next thought (even if the neighbors were near death, or may already be dead since we hadn’t seen them in a month). But it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. It was completely, wholeheartedly, and altogether absolutely ours.
May 28, 2010
It took a few hours of zombie-staring off into nothing to come to terms with this whole parental thing. But I did. I accepted it, and embraced it, and actually started to get excited about it. I’m sure there will be other panic moments, but if ever there was a kid that was meant to be born, it was this one. And who was I to get in the way of whoever’s idea this was.
Together Aimee and I made the decision to keep the news quiet at least until the second trimester, but, of course, we did need to let one or two people know. Aimee needed to tell her parents after all, this was news she couldn’t possibly keep under wraps. Then she had to tell Maureen, her best friend, that is understandable because news this huge has to be shared with someone you can confide in. And of course her brothers had to be clued in. Then of course Aimee’s New York best friend Steph needed to know, obviously. Then Heidi who would know something was up anyway since she has baby radar. Then Aimee’s doctor, her trainer, a nurse (not sure if it was exactly her nurse but a nurse nonetheless), an aunt, an uncle, the milkman, a person in line at the market, I had suggested that she wear a lunch board sign that said “I am pregnant but don’t tell anyone.” She didn’t find that too amusing, and continued to not find it amusing until she told Eric and Janelle which made her feel immediately better.
But of course I was just as excited to get the word out to my side of the food chain. Friends had various reactions to the news, most falling somewhere in between “Congratulations, Who’s the Father” or “Wow, that’s crazy, that means you’re still having sex.” My two sisters screamed when they found out, I think from happiness. One friend said that “He didn’t do it.” But the best was “Now Aimee will have someone closer to her age to hang out with.”
June 1, 2010
I saw the first pictures of the kid at 6 weeks and one day old. It looked like a potato. A living breathing, soon to be eating and shitting potato.
I wondered how could something this miniscule grow to be President of the United States or centerfield for the New York Yankees or get big enough to throw a rock at a window. But I guess that’s the miracle of life.
Anyway, it was now official. Something was growing in Aimee’s belly, I was scouring the classifieds for Swedish nannies and we were very much off to see the wizard.