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.

Today was the day that I found out the sex of my baby. I am happy to report that it’s a boy and he is healthy by all accounts. What I did not expect was the feeling that came over me when I got the news. Of course,  I was at the doctor’s office with my lady and got it first-hand. But, the gravity of it was more than I could have imagined. I had given up all hope of fathering children of my own and, even though I knew that my lady was pregnant, it just hadn’t hit home that it is actually going to happen. Today was that day.

I felt joy at knowing what name my offspring would have. I felt great relief that he is healthy. I felt great apprehension because I am feeling the pressure of knowing that I am to be a father of a newborn when approaching middle age. I felt pride in knowing how happy my mother would be when she heard the news. All of these things at once and interchangeably for a while. But now, I mostly feel content and focused on what I need to do to prepare my household for the new arrival. Things are mostly good but there is always room to improve. Above all, I am grateful to God for this gift as I had given all hope that it would happen for me.

I am looking forward to meeting my son and to the years of teaching him to be a strong, independent, and confident man. I hope that I can be the rock for him that he will need and be a good role model. I do not want him to follow in my footsteps; I want him to tread his own way.

I am ready.

My birthday was today. I am now officially a middle-aged individual (not like it wasn’t already true, but now it’s official). I actually took time off from work this year for the first time in my adult life and I’m glad I did. It felt wonderful to not have to deal with rushing away from work or some other responsibility to enjoy the company of my family.

I got some pretty cool gifts and got to eat some awesome steak and all-in-all had a pretty good day and, as I sit here writing this, I’m being presented with a sugar-free double chocolate birthday cake. Although the festivities planned for this weekend will not happen due to all invitees having previous plans, I can still say that I enjoyed my birthday and, judging by the response on the site where people have faces in their books, alot of people wished me well. And a good many of those, I didn’t think would even give a rat’s ass.

I’m hoping that this is the trend with birthdays to come as, in the past, they have usually been unmitigated disasters, complete with fighting and arguing and all. Maybe being an old fart isn’t so bad after all.

Cheers!