All Quiet on the Baby Front

As someone with a significant interest in military history, I have been wondering a lot lately about how it feels to be on the cusp of battle. As my wife is now full-term in the pregnancy of our daughter, I liken my current position to that of a general who is preparing for an epic battle. My opponent has mobilized his resources. I can only rely on patchy scouts' reports, but it appears as though he has positioned his heavy guns (head is down) and his troops are strategically amassed along the front (50% effaced). Once engaged, it's gonna be one helluva a firestorm.

Despite the relative calm and quality time I am spending with my co-commander, my adrenaline has been charged for about a week and remains so. Every call I get from my wife doesn't make it through the first ring and the one time I missed a call last week, in frantically dialing the "9-1-917" to call out to her cell phone, I accidentally called 911. Oops.

But, while his adrenaline is also at an all-time high, a good general, a seasoned general, remains the epitome of calm. He cannot let his troops see that his nerves are as shaky as theirs. As my wife is about to push a watermelon through a...you get the point...I must be the rock. When she looks me in the eye, I need to be able to tell her she will be alright and she needs to believe me. My calm and confidence will inspire her. A good general does the same for his troops.

More fundamentally, a good general has been spoiling for this fight. Every single moment of his life has contributed to this moment. Now-tangible fatherhood is no different. Despite never having seen her (with the exception of grainy ultrasound images) the love I have for this child is the most profound love I have ever had for anything. Gut-wrenching love. Love to which I am doing a disservice by trying to explain it. I owe it to this kid, my wife, and myself to be the best I can be. This is my time to shine.

This is my epic battle. I can't wait to hear the burst of the first cannons.