A Million, Billion, Trillion Tiny Feelings Pt. 5

A Father's First Pregnancy

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These paid-tier newsletters are a serialized version of one long-form story I wrote during my wife’s first pregnancy, so before you dive in, read parts One, Two, Three, and Four.

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June 14, 2017

Twelve weeks.

That’s the standard threshold before you start telling everyone that you’re bringing a person into the world. All sorts of mishaps can happen early in a pregnancy but the pervasive wisdom is that once you hit twelve weeks, things tend to settle in a bit and you can spread the word that your lives will soon be changed forever.

Jump the gun and you might have to call all those people back and retell the story of a miscarriage a dozen times or more, reliving whatever pain you may have experienced with the loss of a pregnancy.

I guess I’ll have to learn some patience.

June 15, 2017

I had dinner with John-Paul White and his band this evening before their show at Carrboro’s big rock venue, Cat’s Cradle. They’re a Muscle Shoals crew and I love them dearly.

At the famed Southern restaurant Crook’s Corner, we ate and we talked and we laughed about the nuance of the South and my place in it as a born-and-bred Jersey boy. About halfway through dinner, I told the band our news.

“Emily’s pregnant,” I said. “Baby comes in February.”

Everyone was elated, though John’s face lit up the brightest. He has four kids and you can tell the moment he mentions any of them just how much he loves them.

“This is so, so great, man,” he said. “This is so great.”

He paused to finish chewing a bit of Crook’s legendary shrimp and grits before resuming. He put his fork down and rested his forearms on the table, looking me deep in the eyes.

“You know which age is the best, man?”

“Which?”