Age does not equal experience when baby arrives
By Jon Rabiroff
Having recently turned 55, there is not much the world can throw at me that I can’t handle. I’ve survived a heart bypass operation. I spent six weeks embedded with U.S. troops in Afghanistan. Heck, I even interviewed 1960s icon/freak Tiny Tim of “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” fame.
But nothing I’ve experienced has prepared me for what is about to happen ― I will soon become a first-time father at an age when many are welcoming their second or third grandchild into existence.
Of course, parenting is a challenge for first-timers at any age. But I’ve spent a lifetime giving the proverbial stiff-arm to all things related to pregnancy, birth and the raising of children.
I have always been happy for my friends and relatives who have had babies. But, over the years, I have mastered how to briefly feign interest in their stories of labor pains, diaper changes and the like, and then politely duck out of the conversation. When they have insisted on throwing their newborns into my lap, I have almost immediately handed back their little bundles of urine and puke, as if passing an unexploded land mine to members of the bomb squad.
I knew I was in trouble shortly after my wife informed me that she was expecting, when I made reference to the two or three days I was sure it takes after birth before babies open their eyes for the first time, like puppies and kittens. Then there was the question I asked about what mothers have to do to enable babies to draw milk from their breasts.
Suffice it to say, she has been telling those stories of my stupidity for months to relatives, friends, waitresses, convenience store clerks and anyone who comes within 10 feet of us.
To be clear, I have always wanted to be a father but, because of circumstances too personal for publication, fate never obliged. Years ago, I reluctantly accepted the fact that no one was going to have the "honor" of carrying on my unusual family name, not to mention my odd nose, receding hairline and proclivity for puns.
But, then a funny thing happened on the way into middle age ― I married a woman almost 20 years my junior, and suddenly the possibility of someday being an overbearing Little League father was back in play.
To be clear, we did not take the decision to have a child at my age lightly. I know I may not be around to embarrass the heck out of my son at his high school graduation, much less his wedding. But, knowing my wife has many of the same qualities that enabled my mother to do a pretty good job of raising me by herself after my father died when I was just 10 makes me confident that our son will be in good hands either way.
However, that thoughtful and rational approach to fatherhood has not kept my so-called friends from sprinkling a few good-natured, but not-so-subtle references to my age into their expressions of congratulations.
"Whose diapers is your wife going to change first, yours or the baby's?"
"Will you be able to find a car seat you can attach to your walker?"
"Soon there will be two people in the house who don't have enough teeth to eat solid food."
Try as I might, it has been hard to respond as if I have everything under control with the baby’s arrival just days away. Just figuring out some of the mysteries of the baby gear we have been accumulating has been intimidating.
The instructions ― heck, the handbook ― explaining how to use our baby car seat was something akin to reading the specs for the space shuttle. And I think I had the breast pump out of the box for all of 30 seconds before packing it back up in deciding that is something my wife will have to figure out on her own.
All that said, I cannot wait to enter the world of Huggies and high chairs, my age be damned. I know I will melt the first time I look into my baby boy’s eyes ― no matter how many days after his birth that may be.
Jon Rabiroff is a copy editor at The Korea Times. He will write an occasional column about the special challenges he faces as a middle-aged, first-time father.