The minutes tick away on the last day of my life where I will not be a father. It's all amazingly surreal. Tuesday and Wednesday I was a nervous wreck to the point where I was having physical reactions, but today I have been calm, as if I almost expect that I know what I am doing. My wife is upstairs asleep, which is good, since she has to do most of the heavy work tomorrow. She's more nervous than I, but then I would be too if I had to push out what she's been carrying for the last nine months.
I went in to this with no real idea of what it would be like. She has been wonderfully pregnant, blessed to not have any issues and to have felt like herself for most of the time. She told me tonight that she will miss being pregnant. I've been envious of her since the baby started moving around, because no matter how many times I feel him kick, I can't possibly realize what it feels for her, to feel a living thing moving around inside.
She's been a joy to experience this with. I am luckier than I ever dreamed I would be.
I'm not much of a person of faith, but I do feel some type of spirit within me, keeping me under control, not letting me get too out of my own self. I also feel my father all around me. This is going to be intense.
So I suppose I should try to sleep, since I have to be up by five and get us to the hospital by six. There's no telling how long it will take; it might be over by noon, it might go on into Saturday.
No matter what, it will make Tuesday just a little anti-climatic, yet no less of a reason to be thankful for the blessings of this world. Let's hope the next time I come this way that I haven't turned into a babbling moron.