Anticipation Weather

You wonder what the King is wishing tonight
He's wishing he were in Scotland fishing tonight
What occupies his time while waiting for the bride?
He's searching high and low for some place to hide
And oh, the expectation, the sublime anticipation ...

-- Camelot, the Musical

Thanks to the genius of Lerner and Lowe audiences everywhere have delighted and the too-human response of King Arthur, hiding in the woods on the eve of his blessed nuptials. It's the endearing, big stage version of the evolutionary flight response that is baked into the deepest part of our limbic brain, one which strikes at major events like marriage or an impending birth - or sometimes no reason at all: Dad said he was going to the store for a gallon of milk - and then, without warning, he moved to Alberta with a dance instructor and sends a card every Christmas with a picture of his new family. (Plenty of grist for the creative writing workshop mill when you get to your mid-20s, kids! Be sure and 'cc' Dave Eggers.)

No I'm not leaving. But I'm nervous as all hell.

Tomorrow is the day we go to the doctor and - well, here I'm sketchy on the details, but 'inducing' a childbirth may entail pressing a button under the dashboard or some kind of voodoo ritual, followed by drugs (but none for me) followed by all sorts of confusion leading to a live childbirth. If all goes well there will be no trips to surgery, no specialists, and no sudden, mad rushing into the room of a half dozen besmocked strangers. The infant will be weighed, measured, and checked for proper coloring - then delivered to my wife's arms for an interlude of weeping and photography. Then we have 18 years to prepare the critter with the mental and emotional fortitude to survive independently and prosper.

During which time I will not be departing to Alberta.

More news as events develop. Blogging may be light in the next few days, but there will be some kind of notice when the big event happens ...

Tags: Childbirth, Fear, Family