So, after a mere 9 months and some inconvenience, my son is finally born, healthy and happy and with all the promise of the world ahead of him. I look at him in awe and some disbelief, struggling with the acceptance that he is finally here. I mean, he IS right in front of me, but yet it is still so surreal.
One of the things I think of most is how I believed this would not be an experience I would ever enjoy. In the middle years of my life, I thought that the opportunity had passed me by and the ability never existed. I was wrong, thank God.
I can’t believe that I ever was of the mind that I wouldn’t want a child of my own but that is exactly how I felt as a younger man because I was afraid of passing off my genetic failings to another human being and watching them suffer the same fate as I with all the pain associated. I am happy to say that it doesn’t matter anymore as I turned out to be a pretty good person and the same will be true of my son, regardless of what shortcoming he may have inherited from me.
I am every day thankful for the opportunity to be the father I was always meant to be, and already have been once around with four awesome stepchildren. It’s as if I was meant to raise the others first so I would want to have the one I have now.