When you’re expecting, things change. They change hard.
There’s the obvious stuff. The stuff you can see. Like your partner’s belly. Maybe you’re developing some belly of your own. You might paint a room. You may consider a new car. A bigger place. That stuff is normal. That’s to be expected.
What I didn’t expect was the mental change. This new inner voice that’s appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Let me give you an idea of what I’m talking about:
We’ve all seen them. They don scratchy white cotton socks, khaki cargo shorts, some ill-fitting faded shirt, and tightly laced new balance sneakers. They’re white and squint when looking at their flip-phone. They’re called Lame Dads and they’re taking over America.
I’ve often wondered when this seemingly inevitable transition starts. Does it happen overnight? Or is it slow, steady, and without your realizing? Most importantly, can it be avoided?
Your image of man. A man’s man. Think about it. What’s the first thing that comes to mind? If you’re like me, it looks something like this:
Or maybe this:
Unlike the “maternal clock” or internal instinct that propels many women to have children, for the majority of my life I was somewhat indifferent to the idea of children. It’s not like I didn’t want them, but I didn’t WANT them.
Now, at age 31, I’m expecting.