sometimes they come back

Our son’s birth is a few short weeks away. Foolishly perhaps I feel greatly serene about the eminent date that is rapidly converging. The process of birth and its consequences don’t frighten me; birth after all is a natural thing and I am far removed from the actual birth process. I understand that it’s not an easy thing to give birth to a child, complications and disaster could slip into existence at any point; but, I have this feeling that it will all work out. My fear is what sort of husband and father will I be to my growing family.

                  How unimportant the petty squabbles seem when compared to the totality of birth. I think of holding that squalling red things in my hands and I feel like crying. I can see his lips quiver exposing his gums, I can hear the high pitched announcement of his arrival, and I can see myself holding the tiny blood engorged fingers. I want to tell him how much I love him, hold him tightly in my arms shielding him from the horrors outside my embrace. I want to give to him the things I never had. I choke up thinking about him, his life rich and full over overripe potential. I love him so much and he’s a dream slowly being realized.