Here, at the Beginning of All Things...

I'm sitting on my couch, thinking. Which is a dangerous thing for a first-time father the night before his wife is induced into labor.

The past nine months have been indescribable. From crisis to crisis, from elation to elation, and between every single momentous occasion, time has flown. Penelope has grown from being a lump, to a bump, to a basketball-sized parasite in my wife's belly.

I feel that my first response to my reflections is to say thank you. Thank you to our families. Thank you to our parents, and brothers (and brothers-in-law). Thank you to friends and co-workers. Thank you to anyone and everyone who made my wife feel special and cared for. Thanks to those of you who gave us shower gifts. We would not be this prepared for Penelope Mae if it weren't for you. Thank you for a stroller/car seat/baby carrier set (I mean you, Brandon and Kelci!). Thank you for thinking of us and our child, and for giving your time and energy to help us be better parents.

I cannot believe I just said that. I'm going to be a father. You know, I read somewhere that becoming a father is a little more emotionally rough than becoming a mother. It said that the mother has nine months to expect, encounter and feel changes that are coming. For the father, it literally happens overnight. One moment, you're just an average joe (in my head, I'm still the seventeen-year old naive boy I was seven years ago). The next moment, you're a father. In a matter of hours, you go from being an oblivious, useless human being to being a provider, caretaker, and protector of a small life full of potential. I wish I could adequately convey the intensity, scope and depth of emotion I feel tonight.

As a final word before the hectic day tomorrow will be, I'd like to say thank you to you, my readers. I know there aren't many of you. But I have felt your excitement and support (all three of you! haha) throughout this journey. Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to do so.

And now, in the immortal words of Don Herold:

"Babies are such a nice way to start people."

The Tragedy of the Third Trimester

Pregnancy is the perfect torture.

In the beginning, pregnancy is exhausting. It's like your wife has the flu for three months.

In the middle, hope springs eternal. There's a reason they call it the "honeymoon phase". Sicknesses subside and everything is sunshine, daisies and Pikachus.

But Pregnancy isn't over yet, and She is not satisfied with a happy ending. That's when the third trimester strikes.

Beth is a zombie again. She's exhausted. Today, she napped for two and a half hours, and she's still ready for more. She's a voracious sleeper once again, and the pains, nausea, and discomfort are back, like acid reflux after Mexican food. Only now her sole source of relief... lies in a delivery room and several helpings of extreme painkillers. The painkillers may or may not happen.

Needless to say, this is the shirt I will be wearing the day of Penelope's arrival:

I approve this message.

We're both still excited. For slightly different reasons, though.

P.S. Beth is having another ultrasound tomorrow. We'll post pics, cuz we're invasive and creepy like that.