J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart….   (The very next day, you gave it awa – GODDAMMIT!!! Did you just Christmas WHAM! us to start this post???)   I totally did. But there's a reason: You see, this Christmas was the last Christmas, for many things. This is the eighth post of The Ramblings of an Expectant Dad, and we're now into the days countdown. Not months, not weeks, but days; assuming my daughter arrives as anticipated, she's thirty-one days from being alive on the outside. My gut feeling tells me that she'll make her arrival sooner than that, but we'll see. In any event, this Christmas was the last Christmas before my life changes forever.   I didn't think that fact would hit me the way it has. Although, perhaps it should have; because I planned for this Christmas as if it was a "last".   (Okay, you're getting a little morbid….)   Let me explain. There is no denying the fact that this Christmas was the

Soooo… fetal extraction is a thing.   (I'm sorry, what now?)   Fetal Extraction. It's a thing. We learned about it at baby school on Saturday. All day baby school. Where we learned about the stages of labor and slow dancing and fetal extraction. On a Saturday. All. DAY.   (Okay, you went to the all-day birthing class, we get it, but… slow dancing and fetal extraction???)   Seriously, it's a thing, and if you're like me, it's not what you think. I mean, I hear the word "extraction" and my mind goes places, such as: a) teeth; and 2) military operations. In that my child won't have teeth when she's born, my mind of course went straight to military ops, and I envisioned black-clad commandos wearing night vision goggles crashing through the drop-ceiling in the delivery room on zip lines, screaming and yelling and throwing flash grenades and taking my newborn infant daughter to a secure, covert location.   (*blink