Since we are expecting our second child this January 11th (a boy), I've found myself reflecting on our first child and how much has changed in the two and a half years that we have had her.

To be honest, I don't think anything is ever the same again once you have your child.  I am aware that I was told hundreds of times that this would be so but, until you experience it, you just don't believe it, do you?

Case in point, if you haven't figured it out, I'm a realtor.  I'm a fairly busy realtor.  As busy as I want to be, anyhow.  But before Capri came along, we had just purchased our first home.  From previous posts you might be aware that we bought the biggest hunk of crap you've ever seen.  It failed the inspection miserably.  Rats nest, mice droppings, 7 cats (and their urine) from the previous owner (and lazy 'cause there were an awful lot of mouse droppings around), you get the picture.  The house was awful.

So I became obsessed.  I wanted to gut that 1910 clunker and restore it to it's glory.  Now, I may be many things but I am not stupid.  I am aware of my shortcomings.  I think I am an outstanding real estate advisor and home marketer, HOWEVER, I am not a contractor.  And even if I was, I probably wouldn't do the job anyways because I'd want to find someone who could simply do it better....not to mention quicker.  I know many a female friend who has had it up to here (hand held high over my head) with their 'don't worry honey, I'll have it finished next month' do-it-yourself'er' husband.  Not me.  I'll fork over the cash to get it done.  Pronto.  So, for 1.5 years, we worked in the house while living in it.  Nasty.  Nasty, nasty stuff.  But I (we) were determined.

The good news?  Success, and just in time for our soon-to-be-born was rounding 2nd and heading for the 3rd tri-mester.  Sure, the yard was a fiasco (yes, in case you didn't hear, we found a gravestone in the backyard) but all in all, I was absolutely ecstatic with the home.  It was our dream home (so far).

It was only then that something awful began to happen.  My wife began to have terrible stomach pains in her 6th month of pregnancy.  We were shocked and didn't know what to do.  We only knew one thing.  They were getting worse.  I didn't know exactly how my wife felt and I was going to try to be there for her as best I could.  I was also aware of the mother/child bond and she was terribly upset...and terrified.  Me?  I had been singing to that little bump in her stomach every night for 3 months.  Maybe I didn't have it inside of me but I loved it as much as a man can love an unborn child.  To put it simply, I was really, really scared.

We scrambled out of the house at 3am one morning when it had gotten out of hand.  I drove to the hospital, flying down the street as fast as I could without getting us killed in the process.  On the way there, it was almost as if something flashed before my eyes. It wasn't my life.  I had yet to experience that sort of flashing, thank God.  It was more like my entire value system. It not only flashed, it exploded, and it left a giant black hole where my old set of beliefs once stood.

And I prayed, 'Dear God (feel free to replace God with your spirit here), Dear God, you can take our new kitchen, our new baths, the character porch, you can take the entire damn house, the car, the money, anything....but please, don't take our baby.' 

3 months later our daughter was born a healthy 8 lbs.  We named her Capri Aliyah Everitt.  I'm a proud husband, a proud character house homeowner, a proud real estate fanatic and a proud realtor, but nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to how proud of a father I am.