False Alarms and Near Heartattacks: Preparing for Labor

I love a surprise just as much as the next bloke, but when my wife told me on Friday that she had been experiencing some unusual pains through much of the day and that she had taken counsel with her mother and the hospital . . . you can imagine that my reaction was somewhat akin to the chap on the left.

Yes, my wife is more than likely far enough along for Maria to be born at anytime, a healthy and robust (Qualtrics, eat your heart out) child.

But for you fathers out there, raise a hand and if you weren't freaking out mentally and emotionally when your wife experienced false alarms or, more to the point, when she actually went into labor.

Anyone, anyone? Bueller? Fry? Anyone, anyone?

Okay, that's what I thought.

So when I drove home early Friday afternoon (well, earlier than usual), you can imagine I felt like I had just had the Gatorade bath but without the warming sensation of victory.

In retrospect, I don't know if I was more panic-struck about my wife and our daughter's immediate safety or just bowled over by the fact that I will soon hold a child in my arms, responsible for her every sob, diaper change, and mortal existence for at least the next 18 years.

I now more or less understand why father's lose their hair or go gray so quickly . . .