In a matter of days (most likely no more than 20), dad from day one will no longer be a blog about pregnancy from a dad’s perspective; instead of pregnancy, it will be about a real life baby. Like the way that the first season of Saved by the Bell was really called Good Morning, Miss Bliss and took place in Indiana, then by the next season Miss Bliss was gone and Zack, Screech, Lisa, and Mr. Belding magically reappeared in California, yet it was still basically the same TV show, only better and livelier.
What this means is that this post of dad from day one could be the last one before “Baby Jack is Born!” is published. Or, I could easily post two more new ones before he’s born. No way of knowing. It’s like waiting for the clown to jump out of the jack-in-the-box while turning the crank. Any day now, our Jack may pop out of the box! (Unavoidable metaphor.)
His due date is November 11th, on my dad’s birthday, but my wife and I are both convinced that Baby Jack will be born on the 5th. We met on October 5, 2006. Our first date was on February 5, 2007. We got married on July 5, 2008. And November 5, 2010 will be Week 39, close enough to Week 40- it’s very possible. Though I love to joke that he will be born on Halloween and he’ll be our Jack-O-Lantern.
Last night we finished our last Lamaze class. Last weekend we packed the car seat. This weekend we will make a trip to Target to pick up supplies (snacks) for the hospital stay and finish packing for D-Day. It’s like preparing for the ultimate first day of school. But instead of meeting my new teacher, I’m meeting my new baby.
All pictures with the “JHP” logo were taken by Joe Hendricks Photography:
This being the first time my writings have been featured in a national magazine, I have to compare the experience of seeing the copy for the first time to that great scene in That Thing You Do where The Wonders all hear their song being played on the radio for the first time. I will never forget; during my lunch break I rode my mountain bike to an appropriately named maternity and baby clothing store in Franklin, TN called Pickles and Ice Cream.
The issue had just arrived in the store. The two girls behind the counter watched me anxiously and purposely turning the pages until I found page 13, both knowing something was up. And though I was still wearing my bike helmet, they realized that the squinty-eyed Italian-looking guy wearing a Tom & Jerry t-shirt in the magazine must be me.