A retrospect. A look ahead.

   So here we are.  I’ve been tossing this idea around the ole noggin for a few months now.  This blog experiment.  I enjoy writing.  I know I don’t suck at it, but I also am not sure I could produce anything consistently captivating enough to have people actually take the time to click their mouse a few times and read my thoughts.  So, out of the plane I jump, into the river I dive.  Here it is, Nicholas the Blogger.

   Do I have to have a theme?  No.  Though, when I audit my past blog experience as a reader/consumer, the ones I tend to enjoy the most (or at least make half of an effort to actually read consistently) have a theme.  So I sat back and took a look at my life… what could possibly serve as a theme for a writing activity.   Is there something in my life that I am going to want to talk about  and not only talk, but share with people?  I am a huge sports fan, but there about 68 million sports blogs.  I love music… see comment about sports.  Besides, while my thoughts on sports and music may be enough for me to enjoy, I feel they may come across as generic to a general population reader.

   The biggest thing happening in my life right now is that I will be becoming a dad in roughly 3 weeks.  

(…long contemplative pause…)  

   I’m a relatively modest 28 year old guy.  I’ve seen some sights, but still have plenty to see.  I’ve learned some lessons in life, many the hard way, many obvious and not too difficult.  I have experienced a full range of emotion, from pure joy, to heartbreak, to depression, to intense feelings of gratitude.  The thought that I am going to responsible for not only the health, but the nurturing, the education, and the development of a human being eclipses all experiences I can recall. 

   Meghan and I found out we were going to be parents on March 8, 2012.  It was a Thursday.  The timing of this news, in retrospect, was fitting.  At the time, we were living in a small one-bedroom apartment in the city of York, Pennsylvania.  This city is rich in historic lure and beautiful Victorian architecture, but not much else.  The neighborhood was less than favorable (i.e. people tended to get shot pretty often).  We had decided it was time to move to a more secure part of town and had just begun our search for our new rental home.  Probably in the last week of February, we had found a nice split-level style home outside of the city limits in a neighborhood that was about as suburban as it gets.  We fell in love with the house immediately.  It was priced right at the very top of our budget, but we knew we wanted it when we saw it.  We made arrangements with the property owners and signed our lease on Sunday, March 4^th.  Just four days later, we found out about our forthcoming child.  

   The move was happening nonetheless, but hearing about this vast change in lifestyle that was upon us, the move into the house made even more sense.  It felt right. 

   Now, that date had other meaning for me as well.  For those who have known me since High School, this story is familiar.  The following day, March 9^th, was a meaningful day for me, and not in a directly positive way.  For that day marked the 10^th anniversary of a good friend of mine passing away in a strange and tragic canoeing accident.  Now, the tenth anniversary was no different really, in terms of emotion, than the second, fifth, seventh, etc., anniversary.  However, that magic number, “10”, made me analyze things a little more.  Ten years… One decade.  I would think to myself:  What has happened?  How have I changed?  How has the world changed?  What would he be doing had that tragic accident not shaken our lives and taken his? In short, it is a hallmark type of situation. 

   Everyone experiences tragedy in their lives.  That is part of the deal.  Great joy.  Great pain.  There is no fighting this.  This is how it works, in my opinion, at least.  I think enduring this at a young age did mold me in certain ways.  Being just 17, a twisted ball of naivety, raw emotion, and a severe lack of meaningful life experience, I did not react well to this. (but who would?)  I think I used it as perhaps a launching point into the stage of youthful rebellion.  The “live for today” mantra took over.  Like I said, naïve.  I skipped a lot of class, burned a lot of bridges, and probably experimented a little more than I can say I’m proud of. I finished high school and moved onto freshman year of college, where I failed miserably.  I had no drive, zero ambition, and lack of any concern for anything beyond a few hours from the present.   But, thanks to a solid upbringing, present family, and reliable friendships, I came out of this and rebounded.  I ended up redeeming myself academically, moving on to accomplish all academic goals I set for myself.

   I suppose what I am getting to is that I learned that “living for today” wasn’t going to change anything and it certainly was not the best way I could honor my fallen comrade.  I decided that the best way I could honor my pal was to live a life built on the cumulative total of many days, not living a day just for that day.  I made goals, I made effort to achieve such goals and I did well, for the most part, from then on out.  I learned that instead of living like there was no tomorrow, I should live in a way so that tomorrow is better because of what I experienced today.  I disposed of the “live for today” mantra and adopted the “enjoy the small things” mantra.  This is where I began to flourish.  I began to look at my parents differently.  I began to look at myself and how I treated people differently.  I began to appreciate, and to be fulfilled, by the small joys in life.  Having a beer with my buddies, driving around on a beautiful day listening to favorite songs, sappy stuff like that.  I made it my goal to enjoy life, to enjoy the rainy days, and when possible, to help others get to this peaceful frame of mind.  I think I would have eventually gotten to this point anyway, but dealing with loss, anger, frustration at this point in life helped me come to grips with my new mantra more quickly. 

   In short, nothing is guaranteed.  Tomorrow is not guaranteed, but it is probable.  I will live today in a fashion that will allow me to live tomorrow with more wisdom; more experience to share with people.  This has served me well.

   Well, fast forward to March of 2012.  Things are good at this point, for the most part.  I had just moved to the Harrisburg/York area roughly ten months before to accept a Labor Relations position with a state agency.  Meghan and I had developed our relationship into something beautiful.  And we were happy.  We talked about marriage someday, and kids… someday.  But as that ten year anniversary, March 9^th, approached, I could feel myself becoming a little depressed.  I can’t help it.  It's nature.  It was/is a sad thing in my life.  Realizing that I haven’t seen or talked to someone I considered a best friend in ten years is… well, just sad.  It stirs up old feelings.  I never learned a way to avoid this.  Perhaps, i don't want to avoid it.  Though it is hard sometimes, i somewhat enjoy that i can still have vivid memories of a great friend.  If I have to have great memories of a tragedy in order to have great memories of someone I loved, I call that a wash.  I wasn’t overboard with depression, I wasn’t drinking away my pain, or anything super dramatic like that.  But, I was in a rutt.  I was in need of a boost, perhaps good news?

   And then I woke up on the morning of March 8^th.  Meghan was up and about before me, which is quite uncommon as I have a long commute to work and am normally up and out the door by the time she is stirring.  Through foggy eyes and half consciousness, I noticed she was making numerous trips to the bathroom.  I asked her what she was doing.  “nothing, can’t sleep”.  Okay, no biggie.

   I get up for work, head to the bathroom to sustain the normal pre-work routine of deodorant and teeth brushing.  I take one step into the bathroom and, like it was highlighted in neon and strobe lights, something on the sink caught my attention straight away.  Just like many 27 year old single folks, I’ve had my share of experience with pregnancy tests and was quite familiar with their shape and look.  There it was sitting on the sink, staring at me, waiting for me to walk on over and read that my life was forever changed.

……”MEGHAN.  What is this?” I said blindly, somewhat sternly, as I about faced from the entrance to the john and made my way back to our bedroom, wanting to get as far as I could from that sink.   “Go in and look” she said, smirking.  "Just tell me!" I must have repeated four or five times.  She wouldn't.  

   She wanted me to find out somewhat naturally… too late for that!  I guess I knew as soon as I saw it.  If there was nothing to see, why would she had left it out on the sink?  Why would there be, not one, but two!?  I knew.  It also suddenly became clear as to why she was up and about and making numerous roundtrips to the bathroom with no seeming explanation. 

   I don’t mind mornings.  Once I’m out of bed, I’m pretty much with it.  But at the same time, I love sleep.  Therefore, in order to sleep as long as possible, I leave myself just enough time in the morning to get cleaned up, get dressed, grab my lunch, and head to work.  By the time I realized what was going on, I had roughly 5 minutes to be out the door or risk missing my bus to Harrisburg.

   I wasn’t upset, or mad or anything negative.  But I wasn’t overcome with joy either.  I was just kind of there.  In a bit of a daze at these most recent developments.  I finished my routine and swiftly got my shoes on and went to kiss Megz goodbye.

“So what do you think”, she asks.

“I think I’m going to be late.  We’ll talk tonight.”  I said in my general smart-assed wit.  Then, a kiss, and I’m out the door.

   An ordinary reaction to such an extraordinary moment. An interesting dynamic.  

   It was maybe 30 minutes later, on a dark bus, surrounded by strangers and fellow commuters, staring out windows as the sun rose over the mighty Susquehanna that the feeling of peacefulness hit me.  I won’t lie, I got a little emotional.  I always thought when something like this happened, I’d freak out.  I thought I’d be able to list seven dozen reasons why this wasn’t the right time, why we couldn’t afford this, etc. (like i had a choice, right?) T

   There was none of that at that moment (though, the financial worries surely came about later).  I was happy and very much in love with a wonderful woman.  I trusted her.  And to boot, she’s a freakin’ kindergarten/daycare teacher.  She has worked with kids for years, all ages, and loves it.  I wasn’t upset.  I was happy.  I was peaceful. 

   On the day before the tenth anniversary of an unfortunate event that blazed the first few steps of my trail from adolescence into adulthood, some moments good, some bad, some pretty ugly, I needed this peace.  And I got it. 

   That was roughly 8-9 months ago.  Seems like it was 8-9 minutes.  That peace hasn’t always been the boldest.  In fact, on some days it was damn near gone, but it maintained a pulse, even if that pulse was very weak at times.  The peace never left. 

   Reasons why it perhaps wasn’t the right time soon fell victim to the reasons why now is an adequate time.  This is a moment where I had to focus on the positive, the good, and I had to roll with it.

   I had just moved to accept a secure and well-paying position in the field I coveted.  I was in the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had.  I was able to provide.  Had this happened a year prior, I’d still be living at my mom’s house, waiting tables at a stuffy country club, over-analyzing every decision I’d made, wondering if I had any business at all going to college/grad school and assuming the intimidating debt that accompanied such.  In short, I’d come a long way in a year.  And this news of this baby ensured I’d be continuing to come a long way in the year in front of me. 

   And here we are, Thursday October 25, 2012.  19 days from the due date.  Literally speaking, this baby could come at any time.  We decided not to find out the sex of the baby.  Meghan’s conviction on this decision was much stronger than mine.  But, now that we’re here, I am very glad we decided not to find out.  We settled on names months ago.  Adele Ruth for a girl.  That name as strong sentimental value for both of us.  And Bryar Thomas for a boy.  There is some sentiment there as well. 

   I can’t wait to meet Adele or Bryar.  It’s kind of weird, because in my mind I have kind of already developed ideas as to their individual personalities.  So, when we find out if we have a son or a daughter, I think I will somewhat miss my day dreaming of what this mystery baby will be like.

   I am at a good place in my life for this to happen.  I’m young enough to keep up, and young enough to re-learn certain parts of life.  But at the same time, I’m experienced enough to understand how precious life is.  Our baby will grow and develop.  And I know I will too. 

   So far, I’ve learned lots of things.  I know what colostrum is.  I know Braxton Hicks is not an athlete or a pop-singer.  I know that hospitals no longer use baby powder.  I know that York Hospital is exactly 4.54 miles from my house.  13 stop lights.  I know that we can do this.  I know there is no one else I’d rather be going through this with than Meghan.  I know I can’t wait to see how my kid develops, and how his/her mom and dad develop too.  I know that life is a sum of days spent, which turn into years which turn into decades.  I know a decade is not a long time.  I know I’ve got a long way to go and look forward to every speed bump and every free fall.  

   There is a new life coming to this tumultuous planet.  And half of this new life is part me.  Craziness.  

   All of the players have been put on notice.  It can happen at any time.  Now we anxiously wait.  

   I've been growing a suitable "dad" beard since August.  I want my kid to know I mean business from day one.  Haha

Thanks for reading.  Updates coming accordingly.