It all started on a regular Monday (12th Sept. 2016), still in my deep manly slumber, dreaming of taking over the world in a viking raid sweep fashion – lifting my mead-horn and cheersing the homies in Valhalla. “Babe…..” – eyes squinted and head tilted to the side I was to awaken at an unfamiliar sight…. +3 weeks. “I’m pregnant!” – The rollercoaster of thoughts struck me, from – Holy shit, I need to adult now, to my goodness, we just got married, a couple of weeks ago I was in Amsterdam getting ‘next level blazed’ with my boys, shitfaced on my wedding day, after my ego gave in to a beer drinking competition with the tiniest asian lady ever. Long story short, I lost, ended up back in my hotel room (god knows how) – on the couch – waking up groggy, -opposite to a wife that seemed to question all her life decisions that brought her to this ‘not-so-glamorous’ moment of naked husband, incoherently murmuring nonsense trying to recall the shenanigans of the night before.
This is not the first time I’ve seen a positive pregnancy test. Wifey and I went through this before and due to unfortunate events it didn’t go too well (twice). So naturally 3rd time lucky, or third time being a charm, left me in a state of slight fear of seeing the person I hold so dear go through the stages of loss and self-destruction when it comes to questionable perceptions she constructed of herself as an unfit “child bearer”. “Booboo, that’s wonderful!”,
still in my ‘zombie’ – just woke up – state of mind. For a brief second I managed to suppress the fear, dark thoughts and grogginess and I felt joy… cautious joy, just how one feels cautiously optimistic about your sports team vs a strong underdog. I joked a couple of days prior that wifey has put on freshmen 15 pounds years after university and that her belly was starting to compete with my less phenomenal dad-bod physique. Little beknownst to me, I may have struck a chord, which lead to the result I woke up to, just inches from my face…… +3 weeks.
We counted back the weeks, as we had plans to go through a crazy month of detox prior to trying, because I wanted to not create a “whiskey baby”. Yet, here we were – “this was just as you came to your parents house” (where she went earlier to help prepare for the wedding) after my stop-over in Japan (our home), where again, I had a little bit to drink and indulged in greens.
Ok, stop, before I go further, I do want to highlight, that even though descriptions may point out to an irresponsible alcoholic, pothead, – I’d like to believe that is far from the truth. I’ll drink a beer every once in awhile, if there is someone in my vicinity that asks me to, but I have not ever reached for a glass by my lonesome and prefer to smoke over drink. I’ve held steady jobs, made a bit of money, but been through more industry transitions than I would like to admit. Not because I got fired, but because I was stuck in the entrepreneurial realm as an opportunist and a pretty decent “sales guy” (something that regardless of “start up idea” is applicable in any organization). Ok, so now back….
By the time of conception, in ‘the little Norwegian village’ – I was unarguably far from my physical peak. “Weren’t you on the pills”? “Yup, but that was the ‘sugar week'” “What the fuck is the sugar week?” – “It’s where they put a bunch of placebos into the packet and blah blah blah….” – I lost her. Ok, so during the so-called ‘sugar week’, where she didn’t decide to take pills, is when IT happened. Thinking back it wasn’t even one of those ‘mind blown’, -wife wore something naughty and I took over like the hulk, -kinda sessions… it was one of those “aw shit, i’m going to come” in like 30 seconds and you hold out for as long as you can thinking of puppies and rainbows and for some reason the rainbow turns into a stripper and the rest is history….
I always thought of conception as almost some sort of ritual, where one must face east or west, depending on the preference of boy or girl – you yell some sort of shaman charm (‘GOoOoOooooo minions’) and last for at least 3 hours, after which wife does a handstand for the following hour and then jumping jacks, to rid herself of the “weaklings” that I have produced over the past x amount of hours prior. Nope, this was barely a 2 minute, roll over, go to sleep session, which would take me on the journey that I will share with you now. From emotional outbursts, to weird food cravings, having to bite my tongue and at moments of anger (‘wish mum swallowed you’) …..this is only the beginning and I’m glad to have you with us.