A strange thing has happened since I found out that we’re having a baby.  I’ve stopped worrying so much about a lot of things, and I’ve found a sense of happiness and calmness that has eluded me for a while now.  I would have thought the opposite would have happened.  I expected that the huge responsibility about to transform my life would have me even more concerned, more worried.  But that’s just not the case. 

Yeah, I still get extremely pissed off when I read about politican shenanigans perpetrated by this terrible administration or the candidates that hope to replace it.  I still feel sad and empty when I read about the death and destruction that is ravishing Kenya, the Middle East, Darfur and so on.  I worry about finding a great job I really love, and I am still disappointed when another day goes by where that hasn’t happened.  I’m concerned for my Mom who will be going into surgery to remove a lump from her breast in a few days, and for my Dad who has not been feeling well for days now, and the tests reveal nothing.  I listen to the echo chamber of the media as it amplifies the doom and gloom of our economy and I still go bug-eyed when I see our bank account up against our bills. 

But in the last week and a half there has been a fundamental shift in my internal landscape and in my view of the world.  See, there has been an alarm going off in my brain for several months now, and it was getting louder and more persistent with every passing day.  It was like a dog-whistle alarm, though.  I couldn’t really hear it so much as feel the brainsplitting soundwaves vibrating me to my very core.

My wife had stopped taking birth control over a year ago.  We expected to be expecting several months ago.  But we were also in transition moving across the country, finding an apartment, getting set up and starting work.  It was not until January 1, 2008 that I finally said to myself, okay, this is it.  We need to get pregnant NOW.  I could feel the pressure building from her and from within myself as month after month went by and it still had not happened.  Each month the tension increased and my worries grew that we wouldn’t be able to conceive, that we would never have kids of our own.  That stress made my concerns about the world, about work, and about my parents even more difficult to bear.

All that has changed now.  I still feel those pressures and worries, but their weight is far less, and their sharpness has been dulled.  I start getting pissed about our dumbass President and all I have to do is think about my wife and what she’s carrying within her and that anger vanishes into a smile as warmth suffuses me.  I think about my Mom’s breast cancer battle and grow tight with concern and then I remember the shout of joy she let out when we told her the news.  She will beat this disease because she has to, because she has a new wonderful grandchild on the way.  I read the paper and see the photos of people tearing their country apart and it drains my soul right out of my skin, but then all I have to do is go over to my wife and wrap my arms around her and smell her changing scent as she transitions from woman into mother and I am overcome with joy and filled up once again.

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