Really Getting Started

Getting started takes on a whole new meaning when the subject turns from the first house or apartment to when the little people start showing up. A scant two years after verbally sparring with Miss Mize and Mrs Goode, there was this little person in my house who, in his own way, was a lot more demanding than they were.

When you’re 20 and you find out you’re going to be a father I think the first reaction is always, “Holy Crap!” Then, depending on how long it takes you to get over that initial reaction, your chest sort of puffs out a little and you think more along the lines of, “Hey, I can do this.”

But since there’s no training manual to refer to, you find yourself going through the experience usually one mistake at a time. For example, her doctor was this crusty old guy who probably brought thousands of kids into this world, so when we asked that all important question of how long we could continue having sex while she was pregnant, his response was, “I don’t know, how kinky are you?” I think it was his way of saying, “Hey, there are other things that are a lot more important to worry about”, and he was right.

In late November or early December 1972, the doctor thought she was full term and decided to induce labor. After being plugged into an IV all day with no sign of a baby, they unplugged her and I took her home. Then, around 5 in the morning on Christmas day, she said it was time. He didn’t show up until 1 in the morning on the 26th. I really, really tried to hang in there with her the whole way, but along about 11 that night I needed a break. I know, what I was going through was nothing compared to what she was going through, but I still needed a break. I recall sitting in the waiting room sipping a coke and smoking a cigarette and the next thing I remember the nurse is nudging me awake saying, “You want to come see your new baby boy?”

When I walked into the room he was in an incubator to keep him warm and those big shiny eyes were looking right at me, and there is no way anyone can ever convince me that he didn't know who I was. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My mother in law and I had been having a friendly argument over what it would be --- a boy or a girl. I won.

We put his crib in the corner of our bedroom, and his outgrowing that crib is the reason we moved out of that little duplex. It would not be the last time we would make adjustments because of him.

Owner’s manual or not, things turned out okay I think. I know he taught me as much, if not more, than I taught him, and there were times I should have been leading him when it was actually the other way around. He’s a grown man now with a terrific wife and four kids of his own, but there is a part of me that will always think of him as my baby boy.