Our Story Begins...okay, it began 5 Months Ago, but that's hardly a pithy title

There is something heinously surreal about finding out you are going to be a parent.  Even in the event that you planned it, there's an oddity about actually seeing the lines on that stick match the "pregnant" demarcation on the box.

Following the immediate elation, there's this moment of...

I have no f&%$ing idea what I am doing.

The worst thing you can possibly do is let on that you aren't an expert on parenting.  Because every person you talk to wants to offer you unsolicited advice. 

Which is strange as the majority of people I know had somewhere between 1-4 children.  And under what circumstance does doing something 1-4 times make you an expert on any activity?

I certainly wouldn't want a heart surgeon operating on me after only have tried the procedure 1 or 2 times.  Eff that!  I want a heart surgeon who has been through the paces so many times he could probably do it with his eyes closed.  Which is a horrible idea.  Because heart surgery with your eyes closed could never end well.

Where does this compulsion to drown someone in your modicum of know-how arise?  Is it a self-perpetuating cycle?  One finds out one is pregnant, one freaks out, one pretends to know what one is doing, one has child and muddles through, one can't let another parent feel semi-competent and, thusly, one must demonstrate vast knowledge to all other parents regardless of whether they asked for it or not?

Awesome.  Awesome.  No, seriously, keep that wisdom coming.

Despite all this, I'm stoked to be a dad in the increasingly very near future.

Who would have thought that a plastic stick one pees on could bring so much joy, hope and complete uncertainty?