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Prenatal Panic

When Father Fears He May Not Know Best

By Jay Sauls

Men, for the most part, don't worry about fear. No, we're all tough guys and "ain't afraid of nothin'," as my friends put it. To show how nothing bothers us we scribble it across the front of our cars. "Fear this!" proclaims the windshield of a 1982 Chevrolet Chevette in my neighborhood. Rats, mice, snakes -- just animals to be caught and harassed. We watch "Friday the 13th" and boast, "Yeah, let's see how long he would have lasted at one of our family reunions! We'd take that stupid hockey mask off and feed it to him!" That's the way we are made. Tough, ornery, chest-beaters. That's not to say that there aren't things that make us flinch. Being left alone in the lingerie department gives me a serious case of the willies. But there are larger issues that do nag at our independence. This issue is not of invasion from a foreign race from space. Or even of the possibility of a television blackout of a baseball game during the pennant race. That one's almost too scary to write about! But even as large as this fear is for men, there's one other worry that strikes deep into the heart of all guys. It's worse than, "Honey, I wrecked the car," or even, "My mother's coming to live with us!" Those aren't even close. Standing out away from and beyond any other statement, gliding just past our ability to see like a shadow on the evening sky, hover those three little words: "Honey, I'm pregnant!"

This isn't to say that we're not happy -- because we're dangerously bordering on a joy-induced coma! By and large, we spend the next few hours grinning like a monkey in a banana factory. But we are also scared to death! Oh sure, for the first couple of months we're the King. We walk around all pumped up, slapping other guys on the back. Heck, we even slap guys we don't like. It's not because we're so jazzed up that we want to make amends. We just take the opportunity to hit them without fear of retribution. "Hey buddy!" (smack!) "Gonna be a dad!" (smack, smack.) He can't get mad because he'd be doing the same thing if the situation were reversed. Smiling broadly, we strut on across the room looking for more backs to slap. Women talk and hug when they're happy; we slug each other. It's a guy thing.