Thursday, October 21, 2010
My husband has always known that he wanted to be a father, long before he considered being a husband. He rejoiced at the notion of our surprise pregnancy in a way that not all fathers do. He loved our son naturally, without any reservation.
I had a different reaction to the news. I cried. Not tears of joy, tears of terror. I was terrified. Sure, I had said that I wanted to have children, but those were hypothetical children. The kind that came after five years of marriage. The kind that give you a reason to send a holiday card and get family portraits. I hadn't really considered "actual" children.
Actual children put dirt in the DVD player and colored on the fresh living room paint with bars of soap. Actual children wore their clothes backwards on purpose and told teachers at school that you cooked spaghetti on the toilet.
What I knew of actual children you could fit into a thimble. I was a high school business teacher, what was I going to do, show this baby a PowerPoint? Teach the child the principles of Business Law?
I love to tell the story of how I first met my husband. How the world faded away and the only thing I saw was his face. How I knew, from the moment that I laid eyes upon him that I was going to be his wife. I knew that he was going to be my family.
In the early days when my maternal instincts were still incubating but the baby was not, it was my connection to my husband that kept me tethered. It was the knowledge, from the core of my being, that he was the puzzle piece that made me complete. I relied heavily on his connection with our son hoping that I would connect by proxy. I trusted him when he said eventually I would catch up.
And catch up I did.
The my better half reminds me that together, the five of us, are a WHOLE lot of amazing.