This evening, we should learn the gender of our new baby, unless of course he or she is very shy or modest. However, I'm surprised at how much emotion this is bringing out of me, mostly of the worrying or anxious sort.
I think I want another boy. I say that because teenage girls terrify me. My wife and I raised her younger sister N from age 13 into college, and it was the most difficult time of my life. I tried very hard, but I had a great deal of difficulty relating to N, and that added to an already stressful situation. Of course, on an intellectual level I realize that there are lots of reasons for the difficulty of those times, including our unreadiness to parent, the natural difficulty of the sister/parent and brother-in-law/parent dichotomies, the simple unusualness of the situation, and our three personalities. It really should tell me very little about how it would be for me to raise a little girl up from a baby, always under our rules and value system, and with the consistent parent-child relationship. And still I am scared of girls. I guess emotions do not have to rational.
At the same time, I think I'll feel a little guilty if we're having a boy, as if I somehow wished my daughter out of existence. And, in truth, I might be a little sad. Right now, we have no plans for a fourth child - in fact, we plan on this being our last - and I have images in my mind of teaching my little girl to play softball and tea parties and lots of cuddles in front of movies.
So, I really don't know what I want, which makes me very grateful that I cannot choose and that the matter is already decided. As I told my wife S last night, I really have no way of knowing if I truly love being a father of boys, or just a father of my boys. If it's the latter, which is certainly possible, I should love just as much being a parent of my next child, whoever he or she may be.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Senseless Death
A few years ago, we lost my beloved Nana to cancer. It was quick. She learned about having the disease one month, and a month or two later, she was gone. Her and my PopPop ultimately decided not to go through treatment (which probably would have been horrible for her), and instead elected to invite hospice into her home. She passed very peacefully in her own bed, near her husband of 53 years and surrounded by a loving family.
It was sad, but it was not tragic. I know in my heart I will see her again, and I feel her with me now. And I am consoled by the length and depth of her life. Nana had a wonderful marriage, four children, and ten grandchildren. She now has four great-grandchildren, and another on the way. She touched the lives of all of us, and of many more who I probably do not even know. Hers was a life fulfilled, and although I miss her, I can accept that she passed when it was her time.
That is why it pains me so much to read the news, which seems so full of senseless, needless death.
The worst stories, of course, feature children. The younger the child, the worse the story. It's sad how many little children we lose every year because someone tailgated on the highway to save themselves ten seconds of driving time, or because a caregiver or parent decided to have a few too many drinks or drugs and made some horrible decision. Whenever I read these stories, I cannot help but imagine trying to explain to that sad little soul why it was never given the opportunity to grow up, to fall in love, to have children of its own, or even to be cuddled one more time. (I almost tear up just writing this.) True accidents happen, and true tragedies can never be avoided, but when a little or care or patience on behalf of us adults could have given that little spirit more time on this planet, it makes me sick.
Even the stories about adults can really bother me, particularly if they leave children behind. Even if they don't, lives cut short before their time for no reason leave me with an overwhelming sadness. This past Friday (a "Black Friday" in many ways), a 34-year old man at a Wal-Mart (I think) was trampled to death. Although he was pushed over in the rush of shoppers to save a feew dollars, hundreds of people passed by before some tried to help, and even once the police showed up, the police were pushed and shoved as they tried to save his life. How do you explain that to his soul? What good reason can you give him that he does not get to see his family again, that he will never be a grandfather?
Am I different than other people because I cannot help thinking of these things? Because I hold my breath and fear for my boys every time someone tailgates me, or we get too close to the vehicle in front of us? Maybe most of us block this all out because we have to, but I have not learned how yet. I keep thinking that for all of us, eternal life awaits, but that we only get one chance on this planet. This one chance, this one life, is a blessing and a gift that can never be regiven once it is lost. The sadness of a soul when it is taken away too soon is overwhelming.
Of all the people I wish felt as I do (and those who tailgate are near the top of the list, since rarely is such great risk taken for so little gain), world leaders probably top the list. There likely are some causes worth dying for, but they are few and far between. Yet the world is always at war.
It was sad, but it was not tragic. I know in my heart I will see her again, and I feel her with me now. And I am consoled by the length and depth of her life. Nana had a wonderful marriage, four children, and ten grandchildren. She now has four great-grandchildren, and another on the way. She touched the lives of all of us, and of many more who I probably do not even know. Hers was a life fulfilled, and although I miss her, I can accept that she passed when it was her time.
That is why it pains me so much to read the news, which seems so full of senseless, needless death.
The worst stories, of course, feature children. The younger the child, the worse the story. It's sad how many little children we lose every year because someone tailgated on the highway to save themselves ten seconds of driving time, or because a caregiver or parent decided to have a few too many drinks or drugs and made some horrible decision. Whenever I read these stories, I cannot help but imagine trying to explain to that sad little soul why it was never given the opportunity to grow up, to fall in love, to have children of its own, or even to be cuddled one more time. (I almost tear up just writing this.) True accidents happen, and true tragedies can never be avoided, but when a little or care or patience on behalf of us adults could have given that little spirit more time on this planet, it makes me sick.
Even the stories about adults can really bother me, particularly if they leave children behind. Even if they don't, lives cut short before their time for no reason leave me with an overwhelming sadness. This past Friday (a "Black Friday" in many ways), a 34-year old man at a Wal-Mart (I think) was trampled to death. Although he was pushed over in the rush of shoppers to save a feew dollars, hundreds of people passed by before some tried to help, and even once the police showed up, the police were pushed and shoved as they tried to save his life. How do you explain that to his soul? What good reason can you give him that he does not get to see his family again, that he will never be a grandfather?
Am I different than other people because I cannot help thinking of these things? Because I hold my breath and fear for my boys every time someone tailgates me, or we get too close to the vehicle in front of us? Maybe most of us block this all out because we have to, but I have not learned how yet. I keep thinking that for all of us, eternal life awaits, but that we only get one chance on this planet. This one chance, this one life, is a blessing and a gift that can never be regiven once it is lost. The sadness of a soul when it is taken away too soon is overwhelming.
Of all the people I wish felt as I do (and those who tailgate are near the top of the list, since rarely is such great risk taken for so little gain), world leaders probably top the list. There likely are some causes worth dying for, but they are few and far between. Yet the world is always at war.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Who I Am, and Why I am Doing This
For the past few months, I've contemplated starting a blog. This recurring thought surprised me, because I never thought that I had much that would be interesting to say, and I always thought blogging carried a bit of pretentiousness with it that I would rather not have. (Yes, I'm only 31, and I'm already acting like an old man. This is not the only example of that.)
The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that my desire to start a blog came from my desire to write. Of course, I write every day - I'm an attorney, and a litigator at that. I'm also constantly on email. But that is not the writing that I wish to do - I want to really write, short stories and novels, maybe even some essays. I have no experience in doing this. I was an engineer as an undergraduate (all those "rocket science" jokes make me laugh, because I really was a rocket scientist) and my graduate degree is in the law, so I have very little exposure to real creative writing.
Therefore, I need to practice. I think that the allure of a blog for me was an opportunity to practice, and in a way that others (the few of you who are interested or stumble upon this blog) can comment, criticize, and otherwise guide my development as a writer.
So, that is why I am here. Now, as to who I am.
I never know how to start this - what is the most relevant fact to share first, and what does my choice say about me? I am 31 years old, am married to my 30-year old high school sweetheart, and we have twin sons who are nearly two and another baby due in June. I'm a practicing attorney, specializing in high-stakes civil litigation, and my wife is a part-time social worker. The boys are full-time goofballs and weirdos, which I think sound like the best professions out there.
And now we'll see if I come up with anything interesting to say.
The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that my desire to start a blog came from my desire to write. Of course, I write every day - I'm an attorney, and a litigator at that. I'm also constantly on email. But that is not the writing that I wish to do - I want to really write, short stories and novels, maybe even some essays. I have no experience in doing this. I was an engineer as an undergraduate (all those "rocket science" jokes make me laugh, because I really was a rocket scientist) and my graduate degree is in the law, so I have very little exposure to real creative writing.
Therefore, I need to practice. I think that the allure of a blog for me was an opportunity to practice, and in a way that others (the few of you who are interested or stumble upon this blog) can comment, criticize, and otherwise guide my development as a writer.
So, that is why I am here. Now, as to who I am.
I never know how to start this - what is the most relevant fact to share first, and what does my choice say about me? I am 31 years old, am married to my 30-year old high school sweetheart, and we have twin sons who are nearly two and another baby due in June. I'm a practicing attorney, specializing in high-stakes civil litigation, and my wife is a part-time social worker. The boys are full-time goofballs and weirdos, which I think sound like the best professions out there.
And now we'll see if I come up with anything interesting to say.
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