10.02.2025. MONDAY
22:02 pm
Oh, kid, you scared us.
You really did.
And not the kind of scared I am perpetually in ever since you announced yourself.
Not the kind that’s making me run more than 20Ks a week, or relentlessly push sweaty iron every day of the week with ACHV PEAKers.
No, I’m not even talking about the kind of scared that is making me browse through Njuskalo.hr in search of better apartments, in search of your new room, and your new life.
There is many kinds of scared. And I’m not talking about those. I can handle all of those. I can handle being scared that I won’t be able to teach you anything; or being scared I won’t be enough for you. I can swallow the fear of dragging my insecurities into your life.
I guess, in a way, those are the healthy fears. Accompanying every fatherhood (hopefully).
No, I’m not talking about those kinds of scared.
I’m talking about receiving bad news at the doctor kind of scared. The kind of scared that rendered your mother and me useless. The kind you can do nothing about. That’s the worst kind.
When you hear something might be wrong, you don’t want to believe it. You want to reason your way out of it. And for a while you do. But everything you push down into your subconscious has a funny way of brimming back to the surface.
And after hearing that your mother had a bruise on her uterus, and that she’d have to refrain from even the smallest of tasks… well, it hit us hard.
And you guessed it, we reasoned, we despaired, we managed to bury it into the subconscious. After a few days, the inevitable brimming to the surface part began.
Your mother was advised not to lift a finger until the next visit to the doctor, so I tried. I tried being on top of all the chores, of my work, of my workouts, of my writing, but most of all, I tried making your mother laugh. I tried drowning her in my unending goofiness, making her forget that something was wrong
After a while, the word got out amongst the family. And your aunt, and I, convinced your mother to get a second opinion.
And guess what, you little…, the second opinion confirmed everything was perfectly okay! You, and your mother were as healthy as can be!
Do you ever suddenly take a deep breath, and as the air fills your lungs, and replenishes your body, think to yourself, was I even breathing before?
That day, I took the deepest of breaths.
And from then on, only the good kinds of scared were left. The kinds that’ll follow me forever. And with that, I am perfectly okay.
13.01.2025. MONDAY23:37 pm
Today, I saw my baby’s heartbeats for the first time. It was a UV scan, with a bunch of shadows and lights, out of which I couldn’t discern what I was looking at.But below those was a picture I could read like musical notes on a page. Black on white, lines in succession, expanding and contracting.Heartbeats.My baby’s heartbeats. A drumming symphony, read on paper, but heard in my heart. A new harmony that’d follow me from this point onward. An unceasing background track to the rest of my life; resonating in my mind, reflecting on my choices, my love, my work, and my writing. Reflecting on all that I hold dear and close.As long as that heart beats its rhythm, I will dance to it.