The Baby Blog.

So, if you haven't already heard, I'm having a kid in less than two weeks.


I figured this would be as good a time as any to get back into blogging. (Tangent: everytime I hear/read  the word "blogging", I think of Steve Vogelsang asking Dawna Friesen on her thoughts on the blogosphere).

I was recently inspired by a blog rant/plea for attention post by the disgruntled former Boon Burger Café employee and her less than eight hours of fame, instigated by her aforementioned post about bathrooms and emails. (Tangent II: I've been writing this post on and off for the last few hours. I went for a walk and saw the disgruntled former Boon Burger Café employee (who, according to her blog, is named Andrea McLaren) on Broadway Ave. not once, but twice. I feel as if it's a sign that I had to write this. It might also be a sign she's stalking me. We'll see).

From what I understand, the post is gone. What remains (I think on the same blog), however, are three exhaustively detailed posts about her pregnancy and labour. The baby mama in my life, Jackie, while looking for the Boon post, found the pregnancy posts and told me to read them.

So I did.

Now, reader, McLaren's posts are long. Like Norman Mailer's The Executioner's Song long. However, having nothing but babies on the brain since Jan. of this year, these posts spoke to me in the same way an article on Fantasy Football sleeper picks do. I was hooked on every single word and clung to every last detail. I even started taking notes.

She writes that she felt it important to document her pregnancy process through the written word. I don't disagree. I think it's a good idea. The whole time I was reading, however, I wanted to know more about what her partner (the dad) was going through. I wanted to hear from his perspective. I wanted to know if he was excited as I am. I wanted to know if he was as scared as I am.

So, here's my experience so far.

I can't remember what I was doing, but I was walking through Winnipeg Square one afternoon shortly after Jesus' proverbial birthday when I received this text and companion photo:

 Now here's a closer look at the photo. Confused at what you're laying your eyes on? Yes. As was I.

To make a long story short, this is the result of some tests indicating that there was a fertilized egg in Jackie's uterus. AKA, we're pregnant.

As Will Hunting would say, Do you like apples? Well, how do you dem apples.

At this point in my life, I'm 100 per cent career driven. I was excelling and learning tons at my internship with the Winnipeg Jets, freelancing like a mofo and finally seeing the light at the end of a tunnel reminiscent to the one Andy Dufrense crawled through in Shawshank Redemption.

I guess one would think having a baby would derail my plans of international stardom, leading to a long and winding bout of depression, fueled by nothing else but doughnuts and McDonald's. (I'm an emotional eater. Booze does nothing for me except put me into a good mood and world's of trouble.)

But, as soon as I figured out what the photo meant, I was happy. Really happy. As important everything in my life was at that time, the news of having a baby gave everything I was doing a larger and more crucial purpose. I'm someone who's always been fueled by motivation. I can't think of a bigger boost than finding out you're going to be a dad.

The last two years were a real grind for me. I've always said CreComm is like having two full-time jobs. I'll stand by that statement until the day I die. On the side, I also worked another three jobs. I wasn't burning the candle at both ends, I was dunking it into a pit of molten lava.

I thought about quitting almost every single day. I would actually joke to Jackie, "could we have a baby so I can dropout?"

Be careful what you wish for, I guess. But, in an ironic twist, finding out we were having a baby motivated me to work even harder, and I think it's paid off. I landed a job I absolutely love and I'm doing things for a living that I'd most certainly do for free. None of that would have happened if I left school early.

ANYWAYS, like I said, I'm going to blog about my experience of being a young dad. I say "young" because no one my age within my inner circle has a kid. Hell, I can't really think of one friend of mine who even has kids on the radar. And I'm 28. Not exactly young. My parents had four kids by age 30. My grandma, six kids by 28. (I could be wrong on those figures, but it's around there.)

To put an end to this first instalment, I've put together a What Not to Ask/Say To A Couple Who Are Expecting list. It's about 60 per cent tongue in cheek and absolutely 100 per cent true, so heed this advice.

Things not to say/ask:

1. Are you excited?

This one kills me every single time. I've started answering, "No. Not excited at all, actually. It's the worst possible news and I want to kill myself every second of every day. Dear God: why?"

2. (Mostly at Jackie): So, how are you feeling?

This one makes a little more sense, but not by much. I'm not going to get into all the details/possible sarcastic answers. I think we've all watched enough movies to know that, while being pregnant certainly has its upsides, its also not exactly a walk in the park.

Things to say/ask:

1. If there's anything I can do, let me know.

Boom. Academy Award winner right there. Shows support and backs it up with a nice gesture at the same time.

2. You look great.

3. I can't wait to meet him/her!

Shows your just as enthusiastic as we are. Awesome. When are you available to babysit?