Stumbling

I am pregnant.

Now, being a dude, if this statement were literal fact, I would be quite confused and, I suspect, rather wealthy (because of all of the paid talk show appearances). But, I, in this case, is “we” and “we” refers to my lovely Lisa and me. We are pregnant. We are having a boy. We are due on Christmas Eve.

This new journey brings with it a treasure trove of inquiries.

Am I man enough to be a role model for a (my) boy? Where do I get those onesies with Bob Marley on them? Will I ever experience another private moment with Lisa? How do I protect this child in a world where protesters make their point by raiding Carhart stores (MLK would be like “Whaaaaat?”)?

The list of questions and concerns is endless. But, fatherhood allows zero time for doubts. And so, I’ll turn to the two men that I look to when it comes to being man enough for anything: my father and Frank Sinatra.

In Frank’s song “Soliloquy,” he muses on fatherhood.

“I wonder what he’ll think of me, I guess he’ll call me the old man. I guess he’ll think I can lick every other fella’s father. Well, I can.”

I wonder what my son will think of me? I wonder what his face will express the very first time I take this child into my arms? To what lengths will I go for this boy?

My father went halfway around the world for me.

“I bet that he turns out to be the spittin’ image of his dad. But he’ll have more common sense than his puddin’-headed father ever had.”

Into this world comes a child, born of two who are in love. Our combined selves have created this son and our combined selves will shine through. I hope so very much that he gets the best of me. I pray that this little boy has strength enough to overcome, will enough to thrive and courage enough to conquer.

I will do all that I can for him. He will travel. He will listen to amazing music. He will learn from my mistakes and have the freedom to make his own. He will experience, he will thrive and he will know what it is to truly live.

“I gotta get ready before he comes. Gotta make certain that he won’t be dragged up in slums with a lot’a bums like me.”

I do not know what form of man makes for a great father. But I do know what kind of man I am. I am a man who loves my son’s mother completely, without doubt or reservation. I am a man who lives life joyfully and sees adventure in every little moment. I am a man who has crossed borders, strived to make a true difference in the lives of others, experienced pain, regret, joy and fear. I harbor no hatred, no prejudices, no ill will. Is that enough to raise a son? Who knows? We will certainly find out!

On Christmas Eve, my life will change forever. Suddenly, there will be this new and amazing gift, this life, this son. I will hold him and his mother and I will cry.

There, within some random hospital room, our family will become one, life will have a new meaning and my world will dance and burst with joy.

Into this world will come my son. I have felt his movements within her womb and I keenly await his first movements beyond it and all those that follow. No matter his age, his place or his skill, my arms will hold him just as tightly then as they will during that first precious meeting between the two of us.

I hope that his head is full of hair, his eyes mirror his mother’s and he does not mind that his father is a silly bald man, eagerly stumbling through fatherhood.