It's a boy!

So we found out today: It's a boy!

And my little dude is hung!

I feel like Jay in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" -

"That's not his foot..."

It goes without saying that I'd love this child whether it was a boy or a girl, but I'm not gonna lie: I'm relieved. I guess it's just a familiarity thing, but I feel like I have some idea how to raise a boy. Well, that's not quite accurate. If I know ZERO about raising children, then I like ZERO - 1 about raising a girl. At least with a boy I stay squarely at zero. I was a counselor at an all boys camp for years.

Plus - not that I would have spared my daughter - I can really raise a fan. Congratulations Crimson Tide, Grizzlies, Braves, Titans, Tigers...your ranks will grow by one in July.

I've been silent for a while...

It's hard to explain exactly why I've been so quiet. I guess to put it best, it just seemed like a risky venture - to be blogging about my emotional experience with prospective fatherhood.

Not because I'm embarrassed or anything. I've ever been one to hide my opinions, thoughts or emotions. Rather out of concern that the unorthodox nature of my relationship with Emily might lead to some hurt feelings if I were to be too blunt about my experience.

Enough is enough - I need an outlet. You need to be entertained.

The Double Standard

One of the conflicts that has arisen is the question of drinking and/or smoking. It's a delicate situation, and for the guy it's a lose-lose. Let me preface it by saying I understand 100% that I've got to quit smoking - certainly before this child takes it's first breath. I'm working on it, I'm cutting back, but frankly I'm not too serious about it just yet.

The problem is this: I want to go out. Now those of you that know me know I've never really been the big "lets go to the bar" guy. I prefer a place that is quiet enough to talk, and has enough seating to be comfortable. I'm never going to be the guy that shuts down Raiford's.

I'm also the guy that prefers the company of his partner. What I mean is, if all things are equal I would prefer Emily come with me to do whatever it is I'm doing - running errands, eating dinner, going to the movies, or even going to the bar. I'm not the guy that needs to be let loose to run around with the guys. Hell, other than a "guy's night" dinner once a month, I never make plans that specifically exclude my better-half, or the better-half of my friends.

In the chaos that has ensued following the revelation that I'm going to be a father, there has been very little (if any) "going out" beyond a stop at Bardog after work before I head home. It's not so much that I've made a decision to avoid it, but I'd rather spend my free time (and expendable income) doing other things. Well Saturday Night I decided it was time to go out, and I wanted Emily to come along.

She hasn't been feeling well, to say the least, over the last 6 weeks. She's constantly fighting nausea, stomach cramps, fatigue and a general morass. Compounding the problem is that she's obviously not drinking or smoking - in the interest of Job, our future life-in-being. She doesn't mind if I'm drinking, though she has mastered the "stink-eye" for when I smoke a cigarette (which is never in her direct presence).

Saturday night, as we're getting ready she comes into the office and says: "How about you choose one thing not to do tonight - drinking or smoking."

I reacted poorly. I was dumbfounded by the request. Irritated at the suggestion. I've been working my ass off in the office and expending considerable emotional and physical resources adapting to our new relationship and pending parenthood. I think I was so bothered by the suggestion that I should abstain from one or the other because I felt entitled to go out and enjoy myself for one night. (Aside: if "entitlement" is the best rationale you can come up with, you're probably wrong). I'd asked her to come along because I enjoy myself more with her company than without. Needless to say, she was not pleased by my response.

A period of brief, awkward and painful silence followed. It took only a moment for me to realize that I'd handled the situation wrong. That's the thing though - other than saying "sure, I'll abstain from X" there is no acceptable response. In the position of the father-to-be, you're stripped of the "inequity" card. Literally everything I thought about saying was obviously unacceptable:

"I haven't gotten to go out and drink in a long time, and frankly I really want to be able to smoke and enjoy myself - it's been weeks."

Fail.

"That's not fair - I'm not pregnant."

Uber-Fail. 

Ultimately, I feel there must be a little quid pro quo. A woman's frustration about not being able to do certain things or partake in certain things does not have to be shared by both parties. Undoubtedly this is a very stressful and difficult time for the father-to-be, even though it pales in comparison to the struggles of the mother-to-be.

In the end, the struggle for both parties - and bystanders - is to remember to evaluate each new challenge with empathy and understanding. It's not enough to know how you feel about something, and even to maturely articulate it - you must go the extra mile to stop and consider how your partner feels and what effect your statements and/or actions will have on them.

And then - defer to her.

Fear of the Unknown

People often suggest that fear is driven by a lack of knowledge and/or familiarity. This could never be more true than when the subject is pregnancy - particularly for the man.

Unlike women - who spend their lives with some familiar of the general concepts of pregnancy, and thinking about their future/prospective pregnancy - most men have little or no understanding of the biology of making a baby (beyond the moment of conception - we spend our lives thinking about that part). For that reason (aside from perhaps the shock related to social implications) the most profound emotion the man will experience in the beginning is that of fear.

Suddenly you are confronted with internal dialogue overwhelmed in uncertainty. Here are some examples:

Internal Dialogue 1: Okay. I know she can't drink or smoke. I know that because that's just something I've always heard. That's easy enough. Wait. What happens if she does? Why is it bad? I've heard of "Fetal Alcohol Syndrome" but I don't know what it is, what it causes or how to prevent it. Probably just 100% abstinence, right? Wait - we went out drinking three or four times before we found out...does that mean it's too late? I kind of need a drink...

Internal Dialogue 2: So this baby is growing in her womb. Not her stomach. Got it. And there are some things she can eat which are good for the fetus. Check. Wait, what are they? Wait, what are the bad ones? Wait, what have I already fed her in the last 5 weeks? Wait, what will that cause? When will I know if I've ruined the fetus with my mediocre pork tenderloin? I can't believe I had to settle on pork tenderloin...what grocery runs out of boneless/skinless chicken breasts? Wait, what was I just thinking about? I know it was important... 

Internal Dialogue 3: I was looking at my "Pregnant Dad" app on my iPhone and it said "Congratulations! It's week 10! Most major birth defects form in the first 9 weeks, so if everything is okay, you're likely in the clear and you can take a deep breath." What a relief! Wait... hold the phones! What happens in the first 9 weeks? What causes it? How do we know if we're in the clear? I know we need to see the doctor, but what if it's too late? How come nobody told me that the first 9 weeks were the critical ones? I thought they said the second trimester was the big one? I'm kind of hungry...

You see, its rather horrifying. I'm sure that a semester of obstetrics at the Medical School would probably go a long way towards relieving some tension, but who has the time for that? I've got mountains of books that would probably give me some insight, but frankly every time I read them I just become more overwhelmed by how much I don't know.

The best way to describe it is like you're walking into a law school final exam unprepared. You know that it's a Torts exam, and you know generally what subject matter was discussed. You've seen a skeleton outline for the semester, but you don't have any of the detail. You think you can BS your way through it, but there is a lingering fear that the lack of knowledge will be glaring when you omit some very obvious and necessary point from your essay.

I keep reminding myself that homosapiens have been birthing children for tens of thousands of years, largely without our fancy organic foods and hypochondriac driven medical care. Hell, I saw a woman on the news the other day that had a baby but didn't know she was pregnant! If that baby came out with 2 arms, 2 legs, 2 eyes, 10 fingers and 10 toes then my little fetus has a fighting chance.

This little mantra has not really helped quell my fear and anxiety, but it has helped with my behavior. It's just enough of a reality-check to keep me from harassing Emily day-and-night about her sleeping habits, eating habits, etc. - which is not to say there is anything wrong with them.

In the end, the way to overcome these feelings is to educate yourself. Remind yourself that you aren't just reading these books and going to doctor's appointments to appease your partner - you're doing it so that you understand the process and hopefully can relax and enjoy it.

The best and perhaps only way, however, is to have experienced it once - never again will this all be new.

Advice for the Guy (Food & Diet)

So, if you're like me you start reading these books too. The father-to-be books are interesting, and they give you a good sense of what's going on with the baby, your partner and yourself. The problem is, I walked away from reading them and decided I was the food police. I was hounding her "You need to eat up to 75g of protein every day! You have to make sure the baby develops its brain!"

What a hypocrite. I still live on one meal per day, and snack on generally crappy foods in the interim. I know that if I want Emily and the Baby to eat properly, I've got to get on board too. It means a more concerted effort to come home from work and cook a balanced, healthy dinner for all of us. A small price to pay for (a) scoring points with your beloved and (b) showing that you recognize that the change in lifestyle has to include you too.

All this is not to mention the extremely long list of foods to avoid - cheeses, certain fish, undercooked meats, some vegetables, etc. You can drive yourself (and your partner) crazy if you don't "keep it simple and realistic" for them. Let's face it - our parents gave up drinking and smoking but ate whatever they wanted and we (generally) turned out well. Our kids will have a fighting chance, whether we all go organic or just make sensible decisions.

But at the end of the day - lay off - your partner is going through a lot. Her body is changing, she feels pain and discomfort in a way that you can't imagine. It's easy to say "just suck it up and eat some meat for the baby" but we're not burdened by the nausea, hearth burn, indigestion and other symptoms that making eating a very difficult change.

All in all - be supportive without being overbearing. Show solidarity by also changing your diet, and help with cooking balanced meals. For now, there isn't much else you can do.

Remember, you're either helping, or you're in the way. Don't be in the way.

Doctors

We found ourselves in an interesting position. We knew about the pregnancy much sooner than your average woman. Emily also will not have full medical insurance until January 1, 2011. While our gut was to get in to see a doctor ASAP, it was going to be paid out-of-pocket. When we selected our OB/GYN and inquired as to the costs of the initial visit, labs and ultrasound we realized we were looking at $1,200.00 up front.

After talking to medical providers and doing some reading, we decided to postpone the initial visit 1 month in order to get Emily under an insurance policy. As long as she remains healthy, doesn't have any complications and is feeling well, our first visit will be at the 10 week mark - not uncommon at all.

The other option would be to go a "discount" provider - someone who specializes in providing OB/GYN services to the less-fortunate in our community. As long as we are healthy, I just couldn't bring myself to take those resources away from people in need merely for our convenience.

God willing this will be the right choice, and we can get through these next 35 days without incident. If not, we will bite the bullet and get any-and-all care necessary, without concerns for the cost.

So we wait.

The Two Week Panic Attack

I think I should lead this portion by saying I was an asshole. It wasn't that my conversation was unwarranted, or that we couldn't talk about what I wanted to talk about - I just went about it all wrong.

As I got 3 days away from Memphis to get some quiet/alone time for the first time, I began to freak out about this whole thing. I mean - talk about a life changing event! No matter how things play out with Emily and I, my life will be forever changed by this child's birth. I know it will be an amazing change, and that once I lay eyes on that child I will be forever a different person.

That being said - I'm not yet. I'm still an immature 27-year-old who tries to act and sound mature, who tries to make responsible decisions while at the same time fighting the inner child that just wants to throw his hands up and have a tantrum.

This reached a head on Sunday morning.

I want to have this child. Honestly. Entirely. Truly. My concerns have stemmed only from my concerns about the prospect of (a) raising this child on my own, (b) raising this child in a home where Emily and I are not happy or (c) being forced to keep a distance and let Emily raise the child while I send checks. These options are not necessarily good ones. They are also not the only ones. Emily and I could fall madly in love and this would become the fairy-tale that it isn't quite yet. On the other hand, Emily and I could agree that we don't work as a couple, but do work as friends and can co-parent this child while each moving on towards our own happiness.

However, in the heat of the moment, I was unable to see the potential positive outcomes and instead harped on the potential negative ones. You know when you're sitting there, with one thing and one thing only roaring through your head - something you just feel like you have to say...That's where I was. Echoing inside of my head was the single question...or statement.

There are two ways to have this conversation - the right way and the wrong way.

Right Way -

J: Hey Emily, could we talk for a few minutes? I've got something on my mind.

E: Of course, what is it?

J: I am worried you won't like the sound of it, but I also feel that it is important for me to be honest with you. 

E: You be honest with me and we'll deal with the substance as best we can. 

 - or -

 Wrong Way - 

J: I don't think we should have this child.

E: What?!?

J: I just don't think we are emotionally or financially prepared for what we're taking on. 

E: Well you've been the one who is gung-ho, opening bank accounts, meeting family...this just seems out of the blue.

J: I know...

Well, I did it the wrong way. Instead of sparking a meaningful and important discussion about what options may be available too us, such as adoption or abortion, I acted like a total ass. I took what could have been an opportunity for us to grow closer through a serious and meaningful conversation and turned it into a fight.

Should I have tried to have that conversation two weeks earlier, before things got out of hand? Of course. Should I have started the conversation with a little lead-in? Of course.

Unfortunately, I didn't. As a result, while the substantive portion of the conversation was had, it was had with a series of defensive and personal remarks.

There is a lesson here for all of you - when you find yourself in an unenviable position of needing to bring up a topic of conversation that is going to be unpopular, it is of critical importance that you take the time to lay the foundation for a conversation instead of an argument.

It's going to happen to you, at some point. No matter the status between you and your partner, and no matter your status in life - a point will arise where you just say "Wait! Is this the correct course of action?" Well it may or may not be, but the way you start that conversation will go a long way in deciding the impact of the subject on your relationship with your friends, family, child and partner.

So be careful. Be thoughtful. But still be honest.

What did I do the first week or two?

Well, I have to say that I'm very excited for this child. I know that the situation is less than ideal and it doesn't fit many of the social norms we force upon each other. I've always been one to try to shake those norms in the interest of my happiness and what I think best.

I tried to quit smoking. I had always said the day I found out I'd be a father was the day I would quit smoking. I guess I always imagined that day with my wife and so when that moment arose I declared that cigarettes and I were done at the end of the night.

I made it about half of the next day before I was smoking again. Hell. I'm smoking while I write this. I realize its important and still something I take seriously. I will not be smoking when this child is born.

I also immediately opened a savings account at SunTrust for this child. It won't be much. I'm just putting $100 in to start, and then $25/month until the child is 18 years old. This isn't a college fund, or meant to pay for anything in particular. It's just a little chunk of money I want to be able to hand my son or daughter when they leave for school to say - "Hey, from day 1 I knew I wanted to be able to give you everything. Here is just a little something to help with the adjustment to college life."

I also undertook an investigation into the local OB/GYN scene in order to identify a doctor or group of doctors that I felt most comfortable handling this pregnancy and birth. I didn't do this without the help of Emily, of course. I did use some professional contacts to ask around for people's thoughts on a series of doctors in order to find the right fit. For now, I won't disclose the doctor's name.

I also went to my office manager to find out exactly how my insurance will change once the baby is born, if I want to get the baby's health insurance through my policy.

These things may not seem like much, but in this first trimester, there isn't much "Dad" can do. "Mom" is growing the baby. We don't know the sex yet (but it's totally a boy) so we can't really start prepping anything else (i.e. my guest room).

The other major activity of the first two weeks has been Emily and I making a concerted effort to really get to know one another. We were getting there before, of course. Now, however, things are accelerated and we have to start being real with one another more than before. The process of getting to know her has been amazing. It's been challenging at times, frightening at others but generally wonderful. I think we're both starting to recognize that we have different sets of strengths and weaknesses, which could really lend itself to being a solid parenting team.

As I pushed through a crazy month at work, I finally hit the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and got a chance to catch my breath. Hilarity did not ensue.

Where to begin?

Now I know its "bad luck" to disclose this information before the end of the first trimester, but lets be real - this scenario calls for immediate moral support.

I guess once the news was in my head, dancing around and knocking things over I was left wondering where to begin to process this information. I knew that I didn't want to share it with a lot of people, but that my system also requires input from my resources.

I made an immediate decision that night to call two couples to whom I'm closest to share the news, as well as one person who has known me longer than any non-childhood friend. It wasn't so much that I thought they'd have something to say at that particular juncture, but I wanted to give them the brief history of the situation so they could be prepared to discuss it with me in the near future.

A "heads-up" if you will.

So Friday night I told those 5 people I felt needed to know.

Saturday morning, I went to my mothers and told her and my step-father.

Saturday afternoon, I called my dad.

Saturday night, I told my sister.

So as the weekend came to a close, My closest circle was informed.

Then there is the second level of people in my life that I felt I needed to talk to, get opinions from and generally include in my dialogue. This included my work friends (about 3) and my professional mentors (about 3). It also included 3 or 4 friends that have become very important parts of my life.

Lets be honest, in the months leading up to this, I'd dated a few women. At the time the news broke, I wasn't seeing anyone else, but I still felt that I owed them an explanation. Maybe I didn't owe them anything, but was just selfishly wanting to avoid looking like an asshole. Maybe I was arrogantly trying to protect their feelings. So there is another 3 or 4 people.

Over the following week, I needed to tell both sets of grandparents as well as my one uncle and one aunt.

There you have it - in the world of Jonathan Louis May, approximately 25 people need to hear breaking news in order for me to have established a foundation of support. These were largely the same people I'd turned to with my divorce, and they are all uniquely suited to provide support in one way or another.

More than I'd like? Sure. But this is who I am, and this is my process, and this is what it is.

The idea of diving into fatherhood facing two scenarios is frightening and I wanted to get all my support lined up as quickly as possible. Perhaps this is classic over-thinking. All I can say is that I'm blessed to have friends and family who are ready, willing and able to support me and I sent up a flare.

Their response has been overwhelming. and for that I'm most grateful and relieved.

What would you consider good news?

That's how she led.

Actually, let me back this up a bit.

On Thursday night, she lamented that she'd been feeling tired and a little sick. We were exchanging text messages while she sat in Anatomy & Physiology lecture and I was stuck at the office. She told me she was leaving class early to go home and get in bed. I jokingly said "Oh no. You're not late are you?"

The conversation proceeded like so:

E: I'm pretty sure there's nothing baking in my belly.

J: Just checking.

E: At least, I hope not.

J: I guess we will find out soon enough. 

That was at 11:16 Thursday night. Well, I guess I freaked her out because Friday morning she went and bought a pregnancy test, just to eliminate that concern from her mind. It was positive. So were the next 5 she took.

We had plans that Friday evening to go the University of Memphis basketball game and then out with her friends. I left work and met her at my house. We went downtown, parked and headed over to the FedEx Forum.

Now, I know I'll be judged harshly for this, but I'm a smoker. Up until this point, so was she.

As we walked to the game, I lit a cigarette - she did not. (Hint #1) We got to the game, grabbed our seats and watched the Tigers play. Not long after tip-off, the beer guy came around and I flagged him down. I got a beer - she did not. (Hint #2).

It wasn't much of a game, the Tigers were up about 30 at halftime when we stepped outside to smoke. Again, I smoked and she did not.

Now, before I continue, a little more background is in order. I believe in the Universe, as I mentioned in the first post. There are some things that happen that just can't be explained. Some people chalk them up in the "God" column, some in the "Fate" column. My column is titled "Universe" - the subject of an entire blog that I won't get into here. Nonetheless, the conversation that unfolded was to perfect to have been mere chance.

While we were outside, there was an adorable little girl - maybe 4 years old - in a University of Memphis cheerleader's uniform. As I smoked and watched this little girl bounce around the patio, I looked at Emily and the following conversation occurred: 

J: It's moments like these that I think about how fun it will be to have children, and how much I'll enjoy being a father. 

E: Yeah. 

J: But then I think how grateful I am that I can just enjoy this kid for a few minutes before she goes back where she belongs and I don't have to worry about her.  

 <30 seconds of silence>

E: So...What would you consider good news? 

J: I don't know - I'm bad at this...

E: Well, what would you consider bad news?

J: I don't know - do you have cancer? 

E: No. (looking flustered) 

J: What - are you pregnant? 

E: Yes. 

J: No you're not. 

E: Yes, I am. 

J: No. Seriously? 

E: I can show you. (pulls out iPhone and shows picture of 6 positive pregnancy tests)

J: Okay, but that's not your hand holding those tests. 

E: Yes, it is. 

J: Okay. I'm going to need you to look me in the eye and tell me you're serious. 

E: (looking me in the eye) I'm serious. I'm pregnant. 

Just the way she drew it up in her head, I'm sure. The poor girl had probably been in a panic all day. She doesn't know me well enough to know how I'd react. I'm sure she was expecting the worst - not because of me, but because when you have anxiety about something like this, you always expect the worst. She probably figured she'd just get through the night without drinking or smoking by telling me she still didn't feel well. As evidenced by the first few hints, I'd probably thought nothing of it. That would buy her time to figure out how to tell me on her own terms.

Instead, the Universe sent us a little cheerleader and I opened my mouth just wide enough to get my whole foot inside.

Thankfully, from that point on I responded well. I smiled. I hugged her. I kissed her. I laughed. I had a few "holy shit" moments. We laughed. She patted me on the back for not asking the two questions which one is NOT allowed to ask: whether it is mine, and whether she is keeping it. The two thoughts shot through my brain in those first few moments, but I discounted both as quickly as they'd entered.

We opted not to go back to our seats for the second half of the Tiger's 104-40 victory. We walked across the street and met two of her closest friends (both of whom already knew the big news) and the celebration began. I called a select few friends, broke the news, told them I needed their company and the celebration grew.

All night Emily and I exchanged "Oh. My. God." looks, followed quickly by smiles. Neither of us really knew what to make of it at that point. Over the course of the next week, I think we started to figure it out.

I'll tell you more about that in a minute.