I have a confession.
My Dad is Batman.
At least, that is what the miniature baby onesie outfit said, proudly emblazoned across the chest. My wife, Mallory, stood before me holding the onesie tucked under her chin, a smile breaking across her face and her eyes equal parts nervous and teary.
“Your dad is Bruce Wayne?” I asked. “I don’t understand. Wait…My Dad or your Dad?”
Hi. My name is Jay and I’m going to be a Dad in three-ish months. (The “–ish” is due in large part to confusing math equations involving conception dates versus due dates versus viable pregnancy weeks versus full-term weeks *head explodes*) I’m admittedly a bit thick when it comes to most special occasion reveals and as a rule, no one in the family trusts me with a secret. In this case, I think I had also just woken from a nap. So I was already at a blurry-eyed disadvantage.
The months which followed this momentous reveal have been a generous dose of the expected and a sprinkling of the unexpected. We’ve been inundated with baby bedding options and confronted the “already-baby-having-all-knowing” parents who are seemingly excited about your future distress as a new parent. What I know today, in this moment, is that the journey has more than started for us and every new day is a step in the right direction; a new chapter of our adventure and an opportunity to be present in the moment instead of focused on the finish line.
One hundred and eighteen days stand between us and Babysivitch’s arrival. I’ve never been more looking forward to a miniature someone absorbing my time, sanity, cleanliness, and increasing the average amount of throw-up and poop on or around me at any given time.
Until next time…
O. K. Dad.