Future Fears

NotHeidi is definitely not in a rush to appear in this world, which bothers his mother a little more every day. Nevermind that neither her calculated due date, let alone the Doctors, has yet passed there is a growing sense of restless expectation. This has made the day to day movements of everyday life a little more tense.

Should I have a shower now, should we go watch Star Wars, should we go out to eat... each question comes with the implicit rider of "What if we go into labour while we are doing this?". That kind of thinking definitely improves the chances of us doing nothing when labour does arrive but we both know that not everything changes at the first contraction and we could easily do whatever we pleased safe in the knowledge we have time to react. Of particular benefit is breaking waters into a movie theatre seat or a restaurant chair where, as terrible as this may sound, you don't have to clean it up. Anyway there will likely be much time before we actually depart to the hospital and get into the serious business of bringing a new person into the world.

The most stressful thing will be ensuring that those who need or want to be notified when the process begins are indeed notified. Neglecting to do so can be the start of decades of misgivings and emnity. I expect the Montagues and Capulets were close friends until one of them forgot to ask the other how their Christmas was.

The other fear stems mostly from me being myself. Among the plethora of pieces of advice coming my way was to ensure I not fall asleep while notHeidi was being born. It sounded odd until further probing revealed that this was exactly what happened to said advice giver. Given that the result of this labour was now a family man in his own right it seems clear that some actions are hard to live down.

At this juncture I am reminded of a joke that is not appropriate to retell here but missteps can be a minefield of consequence, particularly in a birthing suite.

Forewarned is forearmed and if you can learn from other people's mistakes instead of committing them yourself so much the better. I have learned to be a dab hand with eye shadow and makeup and painted some passable eyes onto my eyelids so that I won't have to use the old "I was just resting my eyes!" excuse.

On the other hand I may have to explain the unblinking stare I was giving to everyone in the room and assure the recipients it resulted neither from maniacal belligerence nor from grave suspicion.

Other pieces of advice include ensuring there's lots of water (both frozen and liquid) on hand for the process and to have some sugary snacks for energy boosts when needed. We've tried to combine these suggestions and bought a packet of zooper-doopers. The last time I had one I bought them off an enterprising pre-teen in Hunters Hill (if you wonder how the rich stay rich...here's a clue) on an ill-advised 7 Bridges Walk on a hot day. I found them refreshing and energising. Also I learnt something about opportunity cost because at $1 each I feel I might have been ripped off when I can have a pack of 24 for single digit multiples of that from a major supermarket chain. To be fair the young entrepreneur also had a pair of scissors on hand to facilitate consumption.

The most bizarre piece of advice in an array of suggestions that had already set the bar very high was to bring a can opener. Quizzed on why, the response was a knowing look accompanying the words "you'll see". It smelt distinctly of the kind of pranks played on young apprentices to go to the hardware store to buy a left handed screwdriver. Yet there's a small part of me that is intrigued enough to ponder the possible uses.

In all these, often unprompted, discussions about imminent fatherhood I also noticed two distinct points being made. Like the preceding paragraphs many are about the immediate future, the birth, the name, the trip to the hospital and the bloody mess of entrails and fluids I am determined to avert my gaze from. The other theme that emerges is from the other extreme. "Make sure he puts you in a good home" and "you'll be glad when he finally moves out". It is tempting to re-fashion the DISC assessment (or any of the other personality tests) and base it on your opinions, fears and presumptions about birth, parenthood and your general disposition towards can-openers.

When NotHeidi finally does arrive I have no doubt that many of the plans and preparations will be for nought in much the same way as the playing instructions for a football team are wiped by crossing the sideline as mentioned in the previous article. What I hope is that the process is unhindered by misfortune and misstep and if I ever find out why a can-opener might be useful I promise to share that with you.



PS. "NotHeidi" comes up in the spellcheck as "monotheist". Now I have a whole other lot of things to worry about.