There is something worse than knowing that your baby is due at a certain date.It is worse when you realize that time seems to inch its way so ever slowly,towards that blessed day.Going for the last checkup last two days was kinda enlightening.We were supposed to check on the baby’s heartbeat.The device amplified each beat with the frequency of a drum beater,where you’ll hear the highs and the lows.At a range from 132 to 175,I seriously wondered just what a baby can do inside that bag of water he’s in.
How excited am I?Very.How nervous am I?Very.It’s nerve wrecking because I do not know what to expect.It’s very much like,that blank moments of being on a roller coaster ride.When you are up there,you wanna be down.When you are down there,you curse at not being up there.I wonder if I’ll faint at the sight of blood.I even wonder if I will be careless enough to drop my son.I am so filled with scenes of ER and Grey’s Anatomy.Yet,amidst all these quivers,when the wife says,”I’m scared,”,I retort with that unassuming cockiness of,”It’ll be fine.It’ll be fine.”I mean,I understand her concern as she herself has not gone through one.Even better,she’s the one delivering it.
Over the course of nine months,I’ve discovered just what it means to go through the trials of pregnancy.Have I grown to respect my wife?Definitely.Have I learned to appreciate that often neglected facet of a woman,motherhood?You bet.In essence,it’s quite an ordeal.It makes sense when, the Prophet emphasizes the mother’s importance in three recognitions,compared to that of a father.I mean,it’s pitiful to see my wife dragging herself to the toilet at night.Every night.
So,as I wait patiently for the arrival of Fikri,I cannot help but mentally chart his progressions in life.Told the wife,he’ll be enrolled into the Junior Leagues,and the wife shook her head.Told the wife,that he will have my literary genius,and the wife is contented with him having her analytical mind.Told the wife that he’ll have my defined nose,and I comforted her with the idea of him having her eyes.Told her that he’ll be the center of attention in his social life,the wife just hopes that he’ll not turn out as a “player” like his dad.Bah!
I guess it’s true.Everyone wants the best for their children.They wanna provide things for their children.Things they did not get when they were kids.That’s why I’m thinking of getting my son,a model to pose beside with,on his first year birthday.Wahahahahaha!
Someone remarked to me,”Jaz,soon you will have someone taking on you in their name.”Gulp!It sounded weird,but it was a fact.Someone will be named,”Muhammad Fikri Bin Mohamad Hijazi”.So weird.It’ll take some time to digest.
Someone remarked to me,”Jaz,you will cry in the labor theater. Because you’ll be carrying a part of you.”See how people just seems to mentally torture me.Will I cry?Nobody will know,that’s for sure.
Someone remarked to me,”Jaz,your hair is spiked.You’ll be a father.Try combing your hair.”Yes,that someone is my mother.If fatherhood entails the restriction of using my Loreal gel,then I’m in for some serious counseling.
I think I’ll do just fine.I mean,how difficult can fatherhood be?If George Bush can,why not me?
On a lighter note,I came home yesterday,and saw a large box in my room. On it was a note.
“Jaz’s Time Machine”-Keep It or Leave It.The Choice Makes YOU!
The box was filled with notes,love letters,pictures,mementos,paraphernalia,cards,and other unmentionables of past relationships/associations/friendships/scandals/encounters and so forth.
It’s still there beside the television.
The wife has a sense of dark humor.The choice will make me?Hmmmmm…
…what do you think?