Before we begin, a lesson. There will be a few of these coming up, so get used to it. Memory is unreliable. This is one thing you need to learn, and not forget (see what I did there?) There will come a day when you're having an argument with your significant other about something, and the crux of the argument will be that you both remember it different ways. No matter how right you think you are, remember this...your memory of something is not the same as the "truth." Not only does everyone experience things differently, your memory will 'fill in the gaps' and make it seem that you remember something, and you'll be wrong. So don't argue about the details...you probably have them wrong anyway.
I bring this up in case I screw up any of the details of this account. This is certainly the way I remember it, but who knows? If you hear something different, believe me...I'm not lying, I'm just wrong. But hopefully there's some value for you to see it through my eyes, even if we can't all agree on the details.
Wow, long post, and I haven't even really started yet! This one may get broken up into multiple parts. Anyway, let's begin. I won't bore you with all the details before you came into the picture...at least, not yet.
Let's start with some honesty. I really wasn't sure I wanted kids. I mean, I grew up always wanting a daughter, but by the time I became a teenager and saw the worry fathers of daughters had to go through (because of guys like me, no doubt,) I had changed my mind about that. I wanted a son. But when it came to it, I wasn't sure I was up for the job. I was worried that I would screw you up, that I would be a lousy father. I always thought my father was a great dad, and I wasn't sure I could uphold that standard. So when your mother said that it was now or never if we were going to have a kid, I was basically non-committal.
When a woman, such as your mother, decides she wants a baby, however, you're going to have a baby. She started the scheduling, planning the times we would be together based on her ovulation, all that jazz. I refused. Instead, I said listen, let's just 'pull the goalies', so to speak, and if God wants me to be a father, it'll happen. My thought was that there would be NO WAY God, in his infinite wisdom, would allow this to happen.
I was wrong (you'll hear this more than once, as well. Honesty, right?) Less than a month after we "didn't try but didn't prevent it, either" your mom was pregnant. And I didn't handle it all that well. I remember that she told me on a Sunday. I had slept in, and she waited for me to wake up. Once I was awake, she told me the news. I asked if she was sure...dumb question. Of course she was sure. While I overslept, she had taken two pregnancy tests. She was sure.
Here's another piece of advice for you. If you ever find yourself in this situation, the correct response is to tell her you love her and how happy you are. If you want to jump around, feel free. Excitement and optimism are key. What you DON'T want to do is respond with "I need to call my dad" and leave the room. That's a bad look.
Obviously, that's what I did. I called your grandfather and asked him how this could possibly happen. His response was that I knew how this happened...I had been there. And that I needed to calm down. Everything was going to be fine. What I needed to do at that moment was go be happy with your mother, and save the worrying for another day. Which I did. Just know this...despite my reaction, despite the shock, I was really happy that day. I didn't know then if you were a boy or a girl, if I'd screw you up or not, whether you'd be a good kid or an asshole...but I did know that there would be a part of me that would live on, and that I had changed the world. It's a pretty amazing feeling. But that's just the start.
To be continued....
Love, Dad.
I bring this up in case I screw up any of the details of this account. This is certainly the way I remember it, but who knows? If you hear something different, believe me...I'm not lying, I'm just wrong. But hopefully there's some value for you to see it through my eyes, even if we can't all agree on the details.
Wow, long post, and I haven't even really started yet! This one may get broken up into multiple parts. Anyway, let's begin. I won't bore you with all the details before you came into the picture...at least, not yet.
Let's start with some honesty. I really wasn't sure I wanted kids. I mean, I grew up always wanting a daughter, but by the time I became a teenager and saw the worry fathers of daughters had to go through (because of guys like me, no doubt,) I had changed my mind about that. I wanted a son. But when it came to it, I wasn't sure I was up for the job. I was worried that I would screw you up, that I would be a lousy father. I always thought my father was a great dad, and I wasn't sure I could uphold that standard. So when your mother said that it was now or never if we were going to have a kid, I was basically non-committal.
When a woman, such as your mother, decides she wants a baby, however, you're going to have a baby. She started the scheduling, planning the times we would be together based on her ovulation, all that jazz. I refused. Instead, I said listen, let's just 'pull the goalies', so to speak, and if God wants me to be a father, it'll happen. My thought was that there would be NO WAY God, in his infinite wisdom, would allow this to happen.
I was wrong (you'll hear this more than once, as well. Honesty, right?) Less than a month after we "didn't try but didn't prevent it, either" your mom was pregnant. And I didn't handle it all that well. I remember that she told me on a Sunday. I had slept in, and she waited for me to wake up. Once I was awake, she told me the news. I asked if she was sure...dumb question. Of course she was sure. While I overslept, she had taken two pregnancy tests. She was sure.
Here's another piece of advice for you. If you ever find yourself in this situation, the correct response is to tell her you love her and how happy you are. If you want to jump around, feel free. Excitement and optimism are key. What you DON'T want to do is respond with "I need to call my dad" and leave the room. That's a bad look.
Obviously, that's what I did. I called your grandfather and asked him how this could possibly happen. His response was that I knew how this happened...I had been there. And that I needed to calm down. Everything was going to be fine. What I needed to do at that moment was go be happy with your mother, and save the worrying for another day. Which I did. Just know this...despite my reaction, despite the shock, I was really happy that day. I didn't know then if you were a boy or a girl, if I'd screw you up or not, whether you'd be a good kid or an asshole...but I did know that there would be a part of me that would live on, and that I had changed the world. It's a pretty amazing feeling. But that's just the start.
To be continued....
Love, Dad.
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