For some couples, failure to conceive is the most heartbreaking situation in their lives.  It destroys marriages, drives wives into depression, and sends husbands into isolation.  It is difficult to imagine the pain that must accompany a desire for children yet lacking the means.

We seem to have the opposite problem, firing babies out at the blink of an eye.  It turns out that I made a good decision not to be sexually active in my youth, as I would have been a father at 13, 15, or 17.  I must be what one would call virile or potent, whichever word is accurate.

Five years ago, our second son was finishing up his last year of pre-school.  Our life was great, two boys, business rocking along, an easy, manageable family of four.  I was in Phoenix later that year when my wife told me that, in fact, her OB/GYN had just come to understand what it means when they say that only 1 in 1000 women become pregnant using an IUD.

He brought more risk to our family and to me as a father.  I went from having two chances to be a poor father to three chances to be a poor father.  He was an inconvenience to our quaint world here in Suburbia, forcing us to learn about a whole new crop of horrible television shows like the Backyardigans and Nora the Explorer (Little Einsteins excluded, as it is terrific).

He is, simply put, a gift to us.  He is a gift to me.  The little hands of my two older boys are a distant memory, but his slips gently within my chunky mitt.  These last couple years have been extra special, getting to hear his whispers all the time, joining him for lunch on an almost daily basis.

Thank you for coming into my life, and Happy Birthday.

Tags: Happy Birthday, son

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 20th, 2008 at 11:34 am and is filed under Fathering. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.