Nugget
[This post was written around 9/6 but not posted to preserve the news.]
So... I'm going to be a father.
Potentially. Presumably. I was actually surprised on my own birthday by Jess, who basically gave me a wrapped, positive pregnancy test as a present. I was too sick to appreciate it at the time - literally 7 days of being sick with a cold - but I'm on the road the recovery and the gravity of the situation is starting to exert itself.
In reality, I'm in a weird sort of limbo. Of course, we have been actively trying since... like three months ago, so that's not the issue. The issue is I keep worrying about the surprisingly high risks of miscarriage and such. At this stage, the risk is about 20%. As the weeks go by, it will eventually fall to 5% and lower. There is an ultrasound appointment scheduled in October, and by then we'll probably start to talk to other people about the news. But until then, we're keeping everything under wraps, because having to have that "just kidding" conversation is the sort of hell on hell that I'd like to avoid, if possible.
On the other hand, there is a risk of going too far the other way. Our lives are changing in a very significant way, especially around... next May. Like, forever. One of the first thoughts that raced through my mind was "well, I should probably wrap up this whole playing WoW thing." I do not anticipate never playing videogames again, but pretty much anything afterwards will likely be interrupted by the million different things that deserve my attention more than whatever else I'm doing.
So, this is kinda it.
Or it could not be. And that'll be terrible.
I am generally a person that allows change to wash over me. We recently got a deck built, and now the roof needs replaced. There's a family wedding taking place in a month, got to book the room. There are things to do, I do them, and don't think about it too much. It's a type of defense mechanism, in its own way, like... mowing the lawn. If I spend all Saturday dreading having to go outside and sweat for an hour cutting grass, I'll be miserable for 1 hour + X hours, where X is all the time I spent dreading it. So just do the thing, and move on with your life.
A baby is a bit different. Then, a toddler. Then, a child. Then, a teenager. Then, a college student.
Christ Jesus, I'll be 57 years old by the time they graduate college.
Or... there could be issues. Down Syndrome. Mental issues. Literally anything. Makes those college thoughts considerably less scary.
Oh, man. Yeah. Heavy shit.