Life on 24-Hour Baby Watch

Copyright 2007 by Valentine J. Brkich (First printed in the Sept. 2007 edition of The Point Magazine, Wexford, PA)

We’re in the final days now. My wife and I have made it through 38 long weeks of pregnancy, and they tell me it can happen any time now. It’s nerve-racking, to say the least. It’s like I’m an inmate on Baby Row, and there’s no chance the governor will call to commute my sentence. I have nothing to do now but sit and wait for the inevitable.

Over the past few weeks my wife and I have been making all the necessary preparations for our new roommate. I’ve been putting the finishing touches on the nursery; she’s been putting together our Hospital Supply Kit, which is comprised of a suitcase filled with clothing and toiletries, a backpack filled with various games and reading materials, and a small cooler to be packed with ice chips and energy drinks. All of these have been strategically placed in the living room where they can be picked up and loaded into the car in a minute’s notice. It’s kind of like we’re packing for vacation, only this time we’ll be bringing back a brand new human being instead of a box of saltwater taffy.

Over the past several weeks we’ve also been attending a weekly labor and delivery class so that we’ll know what to expect when the time comes. This is where I saw my first labor video. If you’ve never had the pleasure, let me just say that nothing can prepare you for this. The hardest part is sitting there with the teacher and the other couple while you pretend like what you’re watching is no big deal. On the outside I tried to appear calm yet awestruck; on the inside, however, I was having the same reaction that I had the first time I watched the movie “Aliens.” Fortunately it was a baby that emerged from the pregnant woman and not some bloodthirsty space creature with razor-sharp teeth and acid for blood.

Throughout this time of preparation we’ve been gathering dozens of baby-related gifts from our friends and relatives. Our house is now an obstacle course of car seats, bassinets, diapers, baby toys, baby clothes and other random piles of baby-related, Chinese-made, hopefully-not-lead-based-painted items. Right now as I’m sitting in my office, I’m looking at a Diaper Champ™, a Bumbo™ (whatever the heck that is) and a portable stroller called an “umbrella chair,” which, strangely enough, provides no protection from the rain. Right before my eyes my office is slowly morphing into a Babies “R” Us.

The next time you hear from me I’ll be a father. (Frightening, isn’t it?) Hopefully, after this life-changing experience, I’ll still manage to hang onto my dry wit and sarcasm, but I’m not making any promises. I’m told that a new baby changes “everything.” And from the looks of my office, I’m starting to believe this. Let’s just hope I don’t confuse my paper shredder for the diaper can. That would be ugly.

Valentine J. Brkich is a freelance writer and soon-to-be daddy. If you have any advice to offer him, he'd be glad to hear it. (And so would his wife.) Drop him a line at Val@BrkichWriting.com.