On the Eve of Childbirth

On the eve of the birth of my sixth child, I am sitting at ‘Kids Concepts’ watching my two girls, Holland and Coral, and two neighborhood girls, Cassidy and Pip, exploring the labyrinths of the humongous playscape. Cassidy is eleven and is in charge of the whole affair, I am just the ride. In the few days prior to the birth of all of my children, I have always found myself in situations that did not quite seem to rise to the propriety of the birth of a child. It is even hard for me to imagine what might be an appropriate activity that could build towards the momentous event of child birth.

I have few vivid memories of my life because my memory is terrible. I tend to remember how something made me feel rather than the something itself. That said, I do have vivid memories of the birth of each of my children simply because it is such an intense and amazing thing (and I am just the Dad). In each case, we did not know the sex of the baby and I had the joy of announcing it to my wife. The first three were all boys and the second round of two has been girls (soon to be three).

The genders have worked out well so far from my perspective. My boys moved back in with me at a time in their lives when a little more discipline and maybe some male mentoring were required. It was also at a time when I had the energy and awareness to provide some guidance. With my girls coming at a more ‘sentimental’ phase of my life, they dote on Dad and by the time they are old enough to start doing stuff that would really worry me, I am likely to have at least a somewhat diminished awareness of the dangers that lurk. Plus, by then my wife will likely have had it with me and I will still have two (maybe three) women who still love me…imperfections, old age and the rest.

As a father, my role is limited by nature to the fun part at conception (which should require a great deal more practice than it does) and then later; say, around three months, when baby starts to have a shred of awareness beyond the breast. A good father, at least by today’s standards, shares as much of the child-rearing duties as is possible and sympathizes with his Wife when sleep deprivation and the overwhelming responsibilities of Motherhood overwhelm the Mom. Otherwise, keeping a low profile and trying to stay out of trouble are the best course for a new father. There is no currency in the travails of fatherhood because they pale in comparison to the travails of Motherhood.

My two young girls have reminded me what I forgot, and in some cases missed because of too much work and travel, when my three older boys were very young. The ages between approximately six months and five years would be impossible to imagine if not experienced first-hand. This time period, for me, best illustrates the complexity of the human mind…the rapid formation of intellect, the emotional development, the genesis of a nuanced sense of humor, socialization, testing and re-testing the rules to establish the limits of individual expression, and the overwhelmingly rapid establishment of a personality that is almost always vastly different from siblings conceived and raised by the same parents. This period of development is a most amazing experience.

I have experienced, at least in part, the portion of parenting a baby through getting the teenager out the door. My oldest son is in college and either Navy or Marine-bound and my second son lives on his own taking a less certain course. With the new one, we will still have 4 in the house under tutelage. I say that I have experienced this part of parenting partly because I was separated and divorced when my three sons were six, seven and eight. At that point, even the most involved Dad is a part-timer and misses a lot of the day-to-day grind that ultimately is the rich experience of raising kids to adulthood. In round two, I am fortunate to still be married, work and travel less, and have the financial wherewithal to make life a little easier. All of that at least partly offsets the disadvantages of being an older Dad; namely, that I am at a significant disadvantage to my kids in the ‘energy-level’ department and the slow realization that I will never retire (at least not by my own choice).

There are many ways to experience life, some more joyful, some more meaningful, some more fun. An adult lifetime of raising children, with all of its joys and agonies, is my path, more happenstance than chosen; although, I would not choose otherwise now. I suspect most people move on to a new phase of life when they hit their fifties. A phase that might involve a little downtime with a spouse, more travel, and maybe the pursuit of other interests like golf or reading or writing or whatever. Call it the quiet phase before the quitting phase. If I move on to that new phase, I will have to live into my seventies, a prospect that is far from a sure thing even in the best of circumstances, which circumstances do not apply in my case.

I now look at my children, particularly my older ones who are close to traveling their own paths, and I am dumbfounded and amazed that I played a significant role in making these humans. I see some of myself in all of them and it is rewarding. And, I see enough differences that I should pause, for at least a moment, and question my claims of fatherhood.

Planning has never been my forte, and having kids was never part of the Master Plan because there never was a Master Plan. Life involves trade-offs, and on balance, I can think of far worse ways to go and not too many better ways. Somehow, life works out. I can’t wait to meet the New One!