Packing your hospital bag for the big day is a pretty surreal thing. Maybe it's mostly due to my seperation anxiety from my favorite sweat pants or my oh so comfy Patagonia boxers, but at least a portion of the weird experience is the feeling of packing for something, and not having any real sense of when the trip will occur. I'm sure it is even crazier for the expectant mother, since she is the one actually supporting a life in her gut and the act of stuffing a little roller suitcase with comfy pants and slippers only further cements the reality of the situation for her. But from a guy's point of view, I haven't had to deal with any biological or hormonal changes over the course of 37 weeks and I'm not on the verge of having to endure the most physically and emotionally trying event of my life. So, for me, packing my bag to spend the night at the hospital at any given time over the next month is a total trip. The only thing that I compare it to in a guy's life is that point in high school when you stuffed a condom in your wallet. Sure, you had no real idea exactly when you would use it, but putting it in your wallet and knowing that you might have to use it at any given time (outrageously optimistic) was a pretty crazy feeling. And then the subsequent lack of use just made you feel like a douchebag until you finally take the condom out to make room for your Moviewatcher card.
No comments:
Post a Comment