So yeah, we’re expecting Baby #2. Baby #1 is not even one year-old, and already Amy is in her second trimester. Boy, that was fast. Before long, we’ll be cleaning up #2’s number twos, half in awe at such amazing grace, writing misty-eyed blogs about it, and half horrified at how much poo we need to clean up.
Am I ready to be a dad again? Honestly? No. But as I ask my friends who are on the verge of arriving at major, life-altering milestones, Who is ever ready for the big events of life? After enough thought and maybe prayer, you just know that the time has come. But ready? Who knows what that even means? And how can you be so sure?
I thought I was ready for marriage; Lord knows I tried to be. But midway into our first marital fight, I was sure I could have never prepared for it in advance.
When Cadence came along, I knew I wasn’t prepared to be a dad for the first time. And yet, in the midst of the flurry of having my first child, I never felt more able to do things I had never before done. Like clean up poo ten times a day or soothe an inconsolable infant.
It’s ironic how when you think you’ve got it made, life hits you blindside. And those times you feel inadequate, you get most surprised at what you seem empowered to accomplish by some mysterious force.
I don’t think I know anybody who was sufficiently ready for the big moments in life. A first job, a new city, marriage, or having kids. If you claim you’re 100% ready, you are either naive or lying. Both take away from the fearsome glory, the beautiful terror that a new experience offers.
That’s why I’m not making any claims. I am not ready to be Dad 2.0. I’m trying to be, but who knows? The best I can do is pep talk myself, do some emotional push-ups, pray more, work harder, and hope. Hope that this grace-from-God thing is actually real. Because there’s only so much preparing I can do. The rest is out of my hands.
So I brace myself and let life hit me hard. O, the glory!
How much can you know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight. I don’t wanna die without any scars. So c’mon, hit me before I lose my nerve. — Tyler from the movie Fight Club (1999)