Itty Bitty Hibby
My wife and I have now been married almost seven years. We’ve been extremely (some might say sickeningly) happy over those seven years of marriage. We get along well, we hardly ever argue or fight, we usually work well together. We’ve both been fortunate enough to get good jobs with good organizations. We have a wonderful home and the prettiest dog to have ever lived. Our life together is really quite good, and we’ve definitely fallen into the “married couple” routine.
Soon, however, our routine will be drastically and forever changed. You see, we have a child on the way (that is, my wife is pregnant; there’s not some mysterious child in transit between here and wherever mysterious children come from). We’ve known for quite some time now, but haven’t yet had the chance to tell all of our friends. In fact, as I write this, several of my close friends are still in the dark (hopefully I’ll have a chance to tell them before I post this (though I doubt any of them will ever read this; I probably won’t tell them about my blog)). Yet, ‘tis true. Come November of this year, our happy little family will expand by one.
It’s rather daunting to think about. I am going to be completely in charge of another human being’s life (well, probably more like ½ of a human life; my wife, meanwhile, will maintain functional control over my life and her own, as well as the baby’s). This tiny person will be completely dependent on me for its’ survival. If I don’t provide the care necessary, s/he won’t make it. That’s it. Granted, I’m being a little dramatic here—my wife will be around to care for our child, and if I turn out to be a really horrible father, some agency will surely intervene. Honestly, though, the baby’s life will be in my hands. That’s about equal parts terrifying and amazing.
It’s difficult to fathom exactly how much our lives will change as a result of the birth of our first child. Lots of people have told us, “Your life will change forever,” or something similar, but no one has really told us exactly how our lives will change, nor how much.
I’m pretty happy with my life as it is. Don’t get me wrong—I’m tremendously excited to meet my little son or daughter, and I’ve no doubt that I’ll love being a parent. Still, I can’t help but wonder what things I’ll never get to do, or may never get to do again. Will CST ever go on tour? Probably not. Will I ever get to go camping? Eventually, but probably not as often as I’d like. Will I ever pack up the basic supplies, so to speak, and head off into the wilderness to live? Well, I probably would never have actually done that anyway. But now I can’t. It’s not just that I won’t anymore—now I’ll have a little baby who needs its’ daddy. I’m beginning to realize that all of my decisions will carry much more weight now.
I might not get to go backpacking or whitewater rafting or rock climbing anymore. I may only get to go camping on very rare occasions, at least until the kid is old enough to go along. I may not get to buy an old stand of timber in Minnesota and build a log cabin. I probably will never get to go on tour with CST. There are all sorts of things—things I really enjoy, or think that I would enjoy—that I’ll probably never get to do.
I think, though, that the first time I see my child, I won’t care about any of that. I think that I’ll fall in love immediately and completely. If I can hold my son or daughter every day, if I can watch my child grow and learn and smile and laugh, if I can experience all of those magical times with my child, I think I’ll be able to get by without rock climbing.
Having said all that, I think I’ll try to go camping as often as possible (which probably isn’t very often at all with a pregnant wife) this summer. I’ll try to go see movies whenever I can. Maybe I’ll even try to do some rafting or climbing this summer. Who knows. It doesn’t matter all that much, really. I’ll probably enjoy those things more when I can share them with my kid(s) someday. I think I’ll keep my subscription to Backpacker, though.
Matt
Soon, however, our routine will be drastically and forever changed. You see, we have a child on the way (that is, my wife is pregnant; there’s not some mysterious child in transit between here and wherever mysterious children come from). We’ve known for quite some time now, but haven’t yet had the chance to tell all of our friends. In fact, as I write this, several of my close friends are still in the dark (hopefully I’ll have a chance to tell them before I post this (though I doubt any of them will ever read this; I probably won’t tell them about my blog)). Yet, ‘tis true. Come November of this year, our happy little family will expand by one.
It’s rather daunting to think about. I am going to be completely in charge of another human being’s life (well, probably more like ½ of a human life; my wife, meanwhile, will maintain functional control over my life and her own, as well as the baby’s). This tiny person will be completely dependent on me for its’ survival. If I don’t provide the care necessary, s/he won’t make it. That’s it. Granted, I’m being a little dramatic here—my wife will be around to care for our child, and if I turn out to be a really horrible father, some agency will surely intervene. Honestly, though, the baby’s life will be in my hands. That’s about equal parts terrifying and amazing.
It’s difficult to fathom exactly how much our lives will change as a result of the birth of our first child. Lots of people have told us, “Your life will change forever,” or something similar, but no one has really told us exactly how our lives will change, nor how much.
I’m pretty happy with my life as it is. Don’t get me wrong—I’m tremendously excited to meet my little son or daughter, and I’ve no doubt that I’ll love being a parent. Still, I can’t help but wonder what things I’ll never get to do, or may never get to do again. Will CST ever go on tour? Probably not. Will I ever get to go camping? Eventually, but probably not as often as I’d like. Will I ever pack up the basic supplies, so to speak, and head off into the wilderness to live? Well, I probably would never have actually done that anyway. But now I can’t. It’s not just that I won’t anymore—now I’ll have a little baby who needs its’ daddy. I’m beginning to realize that all of my decisions will carry much more weight now.
I might not get to go backpacking or whitewater rafting or rock climbing anymore. I may only get to go camping on very rare occasions, at least until the kid is old enough to go along. I may not get to buy an old stand of timber in Minnesota and build a log cabin. I probably will never get to go on tour with CST. There are all sorts of things—things I really enjoy, or think that I would enjoy—that I’ll probably never get to do.
I think, though, that the first time I see my child, I won’t care about any of that. I think that I’ll fall in love immediately and completely. If I can hold my son or daughter every day, if I can watch my child grow and learn and smile and laugh, if I can experience all of those magical times with my child, I think I’ll be able to get by without rock climbing.
Having said all that, I think I’ll try to go camping as often as possible (which probably isn’t very often at all with a pregnant wife) this summer. I’ll try to go see movies whenever I can. Maybe I’ll even try to do some rafting or climbing this summer. Who knows. It doesn’t matter all that much, really. I’ll probably enjoy those things more when I can share them with my kid(s) someday. I think I’ll keep my subscription to Backpacker, though.
Matt
posted by Matt at 1:58 PM
6 Comments:
I'd started a blog entry debating over things such as whether CST would ever tour, but since you've answered the question (twice, no less) here I guess I'll have to go back and revise it. Or just leave it unposted; that happens to a lot of my entries anyway.
It is exciting stuff, to be sure. Not to horn in on your excitement, but I think I have a reasonable claim to person-not-in-your-family-who'll-be-affected-most-by-little-Hibby, and I'm certainly plenty happy for you both.
Matt,
Yes, having a child will change your life. But it's not so much that you'll no longer be able to do the things you've enjoyed doing up till now. You can still do them. It just takes a lot more planning.
The real difference, I think, is that you'll end up doing lots of things you wouldn't have chosen to do if you didn't have a child.
Childless people can be more self-indulgent. They can do what they want, so they mostly end up doing things they want to do. (Overstated, I know, but comparatively true nonetheless.)
With a child, you'll spend a lot of time doing things you wouldn't have chosen to do. You'll go places you wouldn't have chosen to go. You'll meet people you wouldn't have chosen to meet.
And in the end, you'll realize that you came out way ahead. Your life will be much richer than it would have been if it were all up to you.
That's the best part.
Congratulations!
Dave
I think we should have some sort of a baby shower for you Matt. We could call it a man shower. We could all gather together, give you a box of pampers and then drink beer, eat burgers and talk about the good ol' days. The days when we couldn't afford beer and burgers. So all we could do is sit around and drink beer.
"Man shower" is sort of a strange sounding term, but I'm in. Will it be held on your new Superdeck?
We need to get building! SUPERDECK! What a good reason to build a deck! I will help construct the deck so you guys can have your "man shower", or whatever you want to call it.
I'm in as long as we don't call it a "man shower." Let the poor kid at least be born before things around him/her start getting weird.
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