My wife contracted a parasite that is making her violently sick. It’s leeching nutrients from her body, growing rapidly and is currently the size of a lemon. That’s right, clever reader, as a good friend of ours used to say, my wife caught “baby.” There’s no time like the present to reproduce, I always say.
For those of you who are unsettled by the thought of a little Jesse running around just remember that it is only half me, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief.
When Wifey called people to tell them our good news they kept saying, “Aren’t you so excited?” She was excited, but she felt guilty for being afraid too. She also felt guilty for being a little grossed out by the whole process.
“There’s, like, a little thing growing in there!” she said to me. “It’s like some sci-fi movie where the alien thing grows inside the human host and then violently bursts out covered in blood and guts!”
She has a good point, but all joking aside, we are very happy. However, what a lot of expectant parents won’t tell you - but we will - is that with the happiness also comes a fair amount of pure terror. I think paralyzing fear is an intelligent and appropriate response to finding out you are going to become a parent. We wanted and planned for a baby, but now that it’s actually under construction we are scared to death.
My face has broken out like never before, and sometimes I wake up in middle of the night thinking, “How are we going to afford a baby? What if we make sucky parents? What if our baby turns out to be a bratty troll child?”
Sometimes I think, This is crazy! Maybe I just dreamed that we were going to have a baby. And just when I had convinced myself it was a dream my wife got her first ultrasound, which was pretty clear proof that something was in there. An ultrasound doesn't have a lot of details, you see. It basically looked like someone had tried to photocopy a potato or a chicken nugget.
“That’s a baby?” I asked the ultrasound tech. “Are you sure?”