The Detonation of Fatherhood

. . . the heart of Asa was wholly true to the Lord al his days . . . – 1 Kings 15:14b

Waiting for your child to be born is like waiting for a bomb to explode. You know it will happen, and bomb “experts” will tell you a rough estimate of when to expect it, but it still comes as a shell-shocking surprise. For the father, these things are different. While in theory we know what will eventually happen, we miss out on a practical connection to the “bomb” in question.

The contractions started at Cracker Barrel over a late dinner

Something in me knew this was going to be a sort of last supper for the two of us. By the next morning, the baby was well on his way – timed of course by him and not such detonation “experts”. Not being in this situation previously, I tried to keep a level head. When the shrapnel starts to fly, you simply lead, maintaining a look of confidence even while your heart is flipping inside your vulnerable cage of a chest.

I am always early

This is important because I urged my wife to leave earlier than she would want to in order to get to the hospital. If I contributed nothing else than this, I did my part. Turns out, the hospital we went to wasn’t actually the hospital we needed to be at. We planned, strategized, and executed for delivery at General while our doctors only delivered at City. There are little words to describe the feeling of being at the wrong hospital when your baby is on his triumphant journey to the outside world.

My wife is my hero

If you have ever pushed a human person outside of you, you have my utmost respect. It is my opinion that you should all be sent a personalized greeting card every day saying “wow, I cannot believe you actually did that. Nice work!” While I prepared for the delivery scene by piecing together bad sitcoms and romantic comedies, I found the actual drama of childbirth something much more incredible. Like life, pre-life is filled with nuanced emotion. Drama, fear, comedy, it comes on in layers.

Around 6:55pm he began his final descent  

Many have documented the feeling you get from seeing your baby for the first time. Many have illustrated it eloquently with words and description that evokes a fraction of what it is actually like. It was my experience however, that these expert storytellers and craftsmen fail. That feeling, whatever it was, will be with me forever. It will resonate loudly with every cry and “daddy” echo. A week into this new role and I still cannot look at my son without turning into a tearful heap of domesticated goo. The prayers I shared to my Father that day harnessed a peculiar strength. They came from a place deep within that was unlocked on first sight. Never have I prayed with a such reckless abandoning of self like I did in those moments. To be a parent is to be vulnerable. To be a follower is to be the same. Somehow our creator knows this and rewards the ill-equipped.