Shit...it is already Day 5, and I am just starting this blog. How am I supposed to raise a child when I am so far behind in all of my plans? Not to mention I started my blog with an expletive, my home looks like Kansas after the twister despite our days of "nesting," and my son was born 12 days early. I guess it's too late to ask whether or not I am ready for fatherhood when my five day old baby is sleeping on my lap. "Ready" doesn't seem to matter any more. My wife and I weren't ready on Saturday, June 14th when her water broke, and I don't know if I will ever feel ready for anything again in my life. I certainly wasn't ready a few hours ago when my son took his first crap, which looked as though we applied melted soft-serve chocolate ice cream from his heels to his neck with a paint roller. I did my best, with plenty of help from my wonderful wife and can only pray that the poop slows down or that I get better at this over time.
Regardless of my fears, doubts and anxiety, I do know that I love this little guy a ton. It is like love plus. I love him, plus I feel this deep urge to protect him, care for him, and sacrifice myself for him. Although I have experienced some of these feelings in the past, I have never felt such an overwhelming desire to sacrifice. I can't fully explain what I mean, though I'm sure that my reflections in this blog will make it more apparent.
I guess the reason I am writing a daddy blog is for personal recollection (my memory has slowly drowned over the years), as well as for my son. I hope someday he learns from my writings, and more importantly, I would love it for him to look back at these experiences and have a laugh.
I love you Jackson Paul Galan, and ready or not, here we go.
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