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June 23, 2006
Preparing for my first fatherhood
You can't have pregnancy without opinions, theories and tips from
everyone you know.
KYLE BERGER
It was about five months ago that my wife Elana and I decided it
was time to take the next step in our married lives and have our
first child. I should say that my wife had made this decision many
months prior, but it was about five months ago that I accepted the
challenge.
I'd like to say that pressures from family and friends who had recently
given birth to their own children had nothing to do with my own
feelings of fatherhood (I have been introduced as Crazy Uncle Kyle
six times already, with a seventh coming any day), but it's hard
to ignore the pure pleasure and fascination of watching a brand
new person chew on anything they can stick in their mouths.
So I am proud to say that with just four months to go until Father's
Day begins to take on a whole new meaning, I am eagerly anticipating
seeing "Lentil" for the first time.
No, we haven't officially named our unborn baby Lentil – we
don't even know if it's going to be a boy, girl, hockey player or
journalist yet. But Lentil became its nickname the first time we
registered on BabyCentre.com for weekly updates on what is going
on inside Elana's ever-growing belly.
"Your baby is the size of a lentil bean," it said. The
next week, it was a peanut, then an almond, then a grape, then a
date, lime, lemon, avocado, sweet potato ... I feared at that rate
we may soon see pineapple or watermelon, but the hours of watching
TV's A Baby Story, forced upon me by my wife, educated me
enough to quash those particular fears.
But it was three months in, when we could finally tell the world
of our newfound wealth that the "fun" really began.
It has always been suggested to keep the pregnancy a private matter
until a healthy heartbeat is heard – usually between 10-14
weeks. The theory is based around the real potential of miscarriage,
which usually takes place in the pre-heartbeat stage. Although avoiding
the possibility of having to tell everyone who knows you that the
pregnancy was terminated is a good enough reason to keep things
quiet in the early stages, I recommend it also for the sake of enjoying
your last few days of freedom.
Freedom from opinions. Freedom from tips. Freedom from theories.
Freedom from everyone else knowing exactly what you should or should
not do between now and when your child turns 18.
This is not to say that I don't appreciate the support and enthusiasm
of the many who share our joy, but the number of comments and contributions
that just don't seem to have been well thought out is astonishing.
For instance, telling a woman who is four months pregnant and has
already had to stuff all of her favorite clothing into storage to
make room for unlimited stretchy pants that she does not yet appear
to be pregnant is not a compliment. To her, it just means she must
simply appear fat.
And I will certainly never understand the one-liner, "your
stomach hasn't grown, but your butt sure has!"
Then let's not forget all the talented mind readers who come out
of the woodwork when it's time to guess the baby's sex.
Theory after theory that, according to each believer, come with
guaranteed accuracy, have been thrust upon us – usually after
we explain that we plan to wait until the birth to know our baby's
sex. If you carry high, it's a boy. If you carry low, it's a girl.
Left is a Liberal and right is a Conservative.
My all-time favorite is one that involves tying my wife's wedding
ring to a single strand of hair from her head. Hanging the ring
over her hand, she is to trace the outline of her fingers before
holding the ring above her wrist. The number of times it takes the
spinning ring to come to a complete stop will certainly tell
the sex of her baby.
I am smart enough, however, to give these people their moments.
At the end of the day, they are the ones we will likely count on
when we really do need help. And I have little doubt that time will
come.
As a crazy uncle, I recognize the various opportunities I have to
give my brothers and sisters-in-law a small break from the wild
responsibilities of baby-raising. I, of course, have all my own
theories as well about how to communicate with their children, added
to my uncanny ability to know exactly how to make a niece or nephew
turn a frown upside down at any given moment. (What can I say? It's
a gift I was born with.)
Of course I will come to depend on these favors being returned and
I have a funny feeling that I won't feel like arguing with all those
theories then.
"What's that? You think you have the magic touch that can make
my baby stop crying? You won't get an argument from me!"
All in all, I have enjoyed the first five months of child-bearing.
Of course, like most dads, I haven't had to deal with weeks of continuous
nausea, a new wardrobe, breasts that have become completely unfamiliar,
sore feet and bowels that are fighting to take on a life of their
own.
But just a few days ago, while lying in bed with my hand on my wife's
belly, I felt Lentil kick at me for the first time. I had heard
the heartbeat and watched the ultrasound, so I already accepted
this was really happening, but the second I made that first personal
connection to my soon-to-be
firstborn, I knew I was really ready for whatever was necessary
to be a dad. Lentil had given me a high five. We are ready to play!
Kyle Berger is a freelance journalist and graphic designer
living in Richmond.
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