expectant fatherism

Sean's pretty even-keeled. He's expressive, in many ways-- don't get me wrong. But when it comes to deep, unfiltered, heart-felt emotion surfacing with such strength that he can't hold it back... well, that just doesn't happen a whole lot.

Sunday night, though, it happened.

Over Mexican food.

Specifically, my enchiladas, which turned out to be quite spicy. I made some casual comment about needing more water or something. In response, realizing the situation, he dropped his fork, his eyes bulged, his voice strained up a couple octaves, and with every ounce of authority you can imagine, he was like, "LISTEN-- you do NOT have to eat that! Why don't we put that in a to-go box and you re-order? It is worth HUNDREDS of dollars of re-ordering to NOT be wondering if you're in labor at 5:00 in the morning, when I need to be in a taxi driving to the airport!!!" .... and so on.

It was GREAT. I can't do the exchange justice. He was so earnestly stressed out about the possibility of spicy-food induced labor the evening before he had to go to Atlanta that he could not control the tremor and fear in his voice. :-) I mean, that's totally understandable. The run up to this forum has been stressful enough with the economy being lousy, speakers cancelling, registration down, etc. The idea of having to debate whether or not I was in labor the night before his flight, would have really sent him over the edge. But despite my sympathy, his EMOTION, the deep-seated TERROR, was so real you could touch it. And this totally cracked me up.

Same night, a little bit later... He's browsing through some book called Expectant Fatherhood or something like that because I told him I was passing it along to my friend Nikki and her husband the next day. With that deadline, he decided to go ahead and flip through it.

Side Note: This was a sweet effort on his part-- I haven't expected him to read anything. I don't even like reading about this stuff too much; makes me feel crazy. And this hasn't been his only fatherhood-prep effort. He's also watched (quite attentively) the Happiest Baby on the Block DVD, as he's mentioned. He's gone to all the key midwife appointments. He was out of town (earning income, supporting our existence) for the introductory Bradley class, but has had perfect attendance at all the rest and even takes notes occasionally. Best of all, our kitchen has become a full-time chemistry lab as he cooks vast amounts of divine smelling food to store in our freezer for the the postpartum bunker-down phase. (I'm serious about the bunker bit. I don't think he'd be reacting much differently if we were in the middle of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Years worth of supplies are getting packed into cupboards and compartments. I'm not sure he knows that we will re-emerge into a somewhat normal existence after the baby is born. He seems to be preparing for the next phase with a die-hard certainty that there will be NO functioning of ANY kind EVER again.)

Anyway, his perusal of the Expectant Father book apparently spurred a need to practice his Dr. Karp Happy Baby techniques. I went to the bathroom (again) and upon my return to the room found a large, king-sized quilt lying diagonally across our bed, face down, top corner folded towards the center. And my husband quite seriously requested that I lie on the quilt so he could practice swaddling. ON ME. My husband wanted to practice swaddling a BEACHED WHALE. Y'all, I tried. I really tried to play along, but unfortunately, fell into such an endless laughing fit that I could hardly breathe, and the mission had to be aborted. NEVER have I felt so silly in my life-- and even right now, just remembering his earnest efforts to wrap my arm down by my side, my belly towering 5 feet over me, my swollen ankles dangling off the bed... I can't even type because I get so tickled again.

ahhhhh, anyway. In the end I convinced him he should practice on something a little more infant-sized, and since he didn't have much choice (seeing as how his original victim was still doubled over with tears of laughter streaming down her face), he duly figured out how to wrap a teddy bear in a towel.

I'd say he's ready.