My life has changed quite a bit since the last time that I've posted anything. I've moved twice, once mere weeks before this pandemic that changed the very structure of our society began, and the other mere months ago. We went from living on an acreage to living in a not great area of the capital to a small town. Life has been full of changes.
At the beginning of February I restarted my medications for my depression and anxiety, and for the first time in far too long I am not contemplating my own death on a daily basis. I also learned that what I consider to be "normal" levels of anxiety others consider to be full blown anxiety attacks; that both shook me and opened my eyes somewhat to how badly I was treating my mental health. I also don't cry everyday anymore, and at first that worried me because I wasn't crying for anything, but the other day I did tear up at some emotional storytelling that also made my partner cry. I won't say that that was a breakthrough for me, but I'm not saying it wasn't either.
Perhaps the biggest change, I say far too nonchalantly, is that I became a father. My son, Renly, was born in the middle of February, about a week after my own birthday, and a day before my anniversary. I was scared the entire pregnancy. I wasn't ready to be a father. I wasn't ready to give up certain "freedoms" only to pick up the greatest responsibility anyone can ever have. The neighbourhood we were living in at the time was growing increasingly erratic and dangerous, and our house was barely big enough for us, let alone adding a baby to the mix. Thankfully certain stars were able to align and we were able to move to a much better location.
My son was born at 6:18 pm via c-section in the Moose Jaw hospital, and my life was irrevocably changed. I got to cut the umbilical cord and help the nurse take his measurements and vitals. He was beautiful beyond words. The phrase "they should've sent a poet" gets bandied about whenever a scientist or explorer discovers something amazing, but there are moments and sights when even the poets are humbled beyond words. Even now, over a month later, I still don't have the words to describe that night. I remember looking my son in the eyes for the first time and being lost. I remember holding him, looking out at the winter's night and promising him the world. The feeling of sheer contentment and bliss the first time, and every time since, that he fell asleep in my arms.
I know that I am changed, yet I know not yet how much I am changed. I have a son, and he is magnificent. I don't know what kind of father I'm going to be, but I am going to strive to be the best.
My life has been irrevocably changed, and I would not change it back for the world.
