closing the 37th week and he’s bound to arrive any day now. i am frightened and wound up. i am excited and filled with dread, everything will change yet again. the 1st week is the hardest, then the month eases out.
but still, i am more fearful now than i was with my daughter. we were different people then, it seems so long ago. and the comparisons between my own father and how i will be with my son. what lessons do i have for him about being a man?
i barely have a handle on what it means to be a boy.
there’s this huge monolith out there that puts pressure on us to behave as our bodies have defined us. expectations based on our sex. roles subtly shoved down our throats. taunts and threats should we tow the line or get out of character.
and there are my sins, the things i’ve done and seen in my life. the women i’ve used and intentionally hurt. the women that in turn abandoned me. the men whose teeth i’ve smashed with my elbows and fists or those i’ve stolen from. what do i tell my son of that?
with ioanna, there was hope in the difference between our genders. with my son, everything that makes me a man today is thrown into question.