Me On Being A Father

Coming up on one month into this Jackson gig. Some observations:

*It's been surprising to me to realize how much I've over-romanticized my plunge into fatherhood. Don't get me wrong. Meeting and learning Jackson has been the single most thrilling experience of my life. And I have loved holding him, praying for him, whispering in his little ear that I love him and that all that I have is his. I mean really, I've spent days doing this. I guess it just didn't occur to me that his response to all my love and affection would amount to pooping mostly.

A story to illustrate my point. One of my favorite things about the whole birth process what they call "catching the baby". To avoid any nasty Discovery Channel type details, this simply means that literally the first hands to touch the boy were mine. Oddly enough, I was opposed to this at first. Let's just say that the view from behind my wife's ear, where I would stand whispering encouragement, seemed to be desirable to me. But the more I thought about it, the more catching my son out of the womb seemed to remind of, well God. I wanted to communicate the security of Jackson's sonship to him from the earliest possible moment. The more I thought about it like that, the more I opened up to the idea and eventually got excited about it. I began to think about it incessantly. What would I say to him? What declaration would I make over him that would stamp him forever as my son and entitle him to all that I have? Well after months of thinking about it, the moment came.

Midwife: Alright dad (me). Last push, would you like to catch the baby?

Me: When you say 'catch', do you imply that there's some kind of skill involved?

Midwife: One more push Chelsea, here we go.

I get in position.

Push...

Catch...

Me: Touchdown!

Then there was lots of crying but I eventually managed to pull it together, hold him close to my ear and whisper...

Me: Jackson, you are my son and I love you. My life is yours little man. Everything I have, everything I am is yours, that you would know that you are loved.

Yeah. Nailed it. And although I wasn't sure what kind of response I was looking for I can tell you it wasn't...

Midwife: Daddy, Jackson just pooped on you!

*The jury is still out on exactly who the boy is going to end up resembling more. Actually seeing as how he's bald and short he doesn't really favor me or his mother. This is time will change. As will, I hope, his fascinating and complete lack of understanding of how well he is cared for, something that in fact does remind me of me. Really. I think there are times when Jackson doesn't seem to trust us a bit. For instance:

Jackson: Scream!

Me: Whoa there man. It's okay. I'm here.

Jackson: Scream!

Me: Look, seriously, the list of things you could possibly need at the moment is quite short and I assure you, that between the two of us, your mother and I got your back.

Jackson: Scream!

Me: Okay. We'll run through the list. Diaper..clean. Food..you just nursed for an hour. Gas...thoroughly burped. Ahhh! I notice your eyes are getting a bit heavy. Your' sleepy. Problem solved!

Jackson: Scream!

Me: ?

*To date, Jackson's tearing up his fantasy baseball league which is impressive for someone who's a month old.

*In his first major riff with dad, he's come forward as a Steve Nash supporter for MVP this year.

*His favorite book so far seems to be Banker to the Poor: Micro-lending and the Battle Against World Poverty by Muhamed Yunus although we're trying to introduce Goodnight Moon and Giraffe's Big Day Out.