Sometimes it takes several grueling hours with a pickaxe and a jack hammer to make a fella feel like a man. Other times, there are more sensitive things. I enjoy going with Delores each week to our Bradley Method® birthing class. We sit in a room for a few hours with other couples who are as excited about there baby as we are about ours, and we learn how to prepare for and embrace labor.
Strange enough, this helps me feel like a man. We alternate between different activities in the class, from traditional school-like learning to practicing relaxation techniques and massage. I get to spend the entire time practicing and dreaming about providing for Delores' every need during labor and birth. Each moment is about taking care of her as only a husband with all his love can. I get to be her labor coach; the fella who is there every moment and is sorely missed even for the briefest of trips to the restroom. Yup. I'm going to do all that and somehow not faint. And I can't wait (although I need to wait until we at least have a place for our baby to sleep).
There's no table saw, forklift, or anything else manly about it except my love for Delores and my deep hope that I can be a decent father to my baby. And yet, to me, I feel that I am facing a rite of passage; one that, if I succeed, I will be a man. Two calendar flips. That's all the time left. And with the next calendar flip only two-some-odd weeks ahead, I can hardly contain myself.
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