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Waiting for Colin to arrive

By MICHAEL BOYLAN

Soon, maybe by the time you are reading this, my son, Colin (that’s like callin’, not colon), will be born.

It’s been an exciting nine months of preparation and waiting and now my wife, Sabine, and I are close to the finish line.

Every day for the last few weeks has felt like the days leading up to Christmas, except that we have no idea when “Christmas” is coming exactly and we have been able to watch “Christmas” expanding Sabine’s belly for a couple of months now.

I think we have what it takes, though I’m sure we have no idea exactly what we’re in for. In fact, everybody kind of chuckles and tells me that when I say that I think we’re ready.

Sabine and I have done all we can to get ready though. We’ve taken childbirth classes, a breast-feeding class and a childcare class and they’ve all been really helpful, although breast-feeding class wasn’t as stimulating as I thought it would be.

In childbirth class our instructor took us on a tour of the hospital and helped us practice several breathing techniques. She also had a stuffed placenta (not a real one, more like a doll) to show us what that looked like.

Combine that with the semi-graphic video of a live birth and I was more than semi-nauseous. We’ll see how I do in the delivery room.

We really started getting ready for this whole thing after the first of the year and those who have followed my travails with construction in the past would be so proud of me.

Not only did I prime and paint the walls with the help of friends and family, but I also used a circular saw, a miter saw, a drill and a sander in helping build shelves for the closet in the nursery. These rites of passage just keep on coming.

As for his nursery, I can’t believe what a racket the baby industry is. I swear this kid has more seats than he’ll know what to do with.

There’s one for swinging, three for rocking, one for bouncing and one for eating. I guess when you’re a baby all you can really do is sit around the house. Must be nice.

I am excited to be a father, though. It’s like joining a fraternity without having to go through any hazing.

Just putting the word father with my name feels weird because for almost 30 years now I’ve just been a son.

I guess starting this June I can expect to get the annual tie or golf tees every Father’s Day.

Since I found out that we’ll be having a baby, I’ve been wondering what type of father I’ll be. I want to be sure that he feels loved and safe and secure, but I also want to instill a love of the things that I love (the dozens of Braves, Red Sox and Georgia Bulldog baby-wear practically assures that, and I also plan on playing the U2 library frequently in the nursery), while still allowing him to develop his own likes and style.

I know that Sabine will make a great Mom and the way that we compliment each other should make us a good set of parents.

Plus, we’re looking forward to continuing to learn to be better parents and our folks will continue to give us good advice.

For now, I’ve got my cell phone on 24-7 and every time I’m out and I hear my ring, I think, This could be it.

Until then, we’re just waiting and waiting and waiting. I now know why all those fathers in cartoons paced holes in the carpet.