February 6, 2010

I'm Expecting

For the past eight months I've been living in the "My wife is pregnant" phase of life. I get continually asked, "How big is she?," "How is she feeling?," "Where is she right now?," and "You know your life is going to change, right?"

After coming up with person-appropriate answers whenever the questions are asked, I have come to the shocking realization that I wish I could be the one pregnant. No, not because I could endure having to cope with nausea, heartburn, backaches or other sundry symptoms of pregnancy. Not because of all the attention some men feel that they are missing when the extreme amounts of attention are being placed on their wives. But rather my pregnancy dream is the result of my desire to play host a living organism within me for many months, with it starting out as a tiny thing you can't really tell that is there, to something that makes your entire abdominal cavity bulge with punches, kicks, and headbutts from a creature that is fighting for freedom from the bubble in which it lives.

This goes on for many weeks until the organism breaks free from its former host with both screaming at the very top of their lungs in an explosion of liquid and blood. But instead of this alien creature trying to wreak havoc upon the planet (unless that becomes an item on his or her to-do list later in life), both parties come home cleaned up by professionals to the comfort of a home they will share in love, not war.

And then, this process will again be repeated by another invader in the woman's body, and this is all deemed usual as a normal part of life. Not simply the theme of a horror movie, nor the type of thing one would do followed by, "Please behave." It's actually acceptable! How cool is that!

Aside from that aspect of the awesome-factor, the fact that you are able to provide a physical place where your child can live must be an incredible feeling. You yourself get to be "home," not something that you have to create. It's just you.

Because since my contribution to the earth is labor and not going into labor, I am working on my daughter's home away from her mother-home. As many of you know, our home has been undergoing a massive transformation over the past several months. With thirty four days until her expected arrival date and the home stretch of the project in site, here is what her bedroom looks like:

You're probably wondering how this could possibly look like the end is in sight but believe me, it certainly is. My goal is to be done with her room within the next two weeks. I'm hoping she decides to stay in her current residence for the entirety of this month and into the next before she decides to emerge into this one.

So while providing a place for her to live isn't as exciting as it could be as if she were actually living within me, building the very first place she will get to live on her "out in the world" journey is just as humbling. Being the very first one to greet her is my job. And to say, "Welcome, I'm expecting you." I am ready.