Soft Hearted Man

Women are thought to be the sensitive ones in our male-testosterone-chest-bumping fueled society.  I myself, a chest-bumping-testosterone-fueled-male, have learned what some broad shouldered-big bearded men may call "womanly" traits.  After enduring a long, tumultuous, excitement driven nine months of pregnancy, my wife and I have found ourselves basking in all of the joy and poo a child brings.  Now completely out numbered four (two boy dogs included) to one, my wife is still the champion of the household and master of calm and cool (minus the lingering "baby brain").  Our four week old boy, Micah James Bresson, doesn't know that although we have only known one another a short time, already we have been through quite a lot.
You see, this blog was intended to have been published back in November, after I had regained composure and felt abundantly certain that the prenatal diagnosis of Down syndrome was truly something that would force changes in my life.  It did change my life.  For the best.  Forever.  I know now more than I ever thought possible to know about trisomy 21.  My tolerance was tested throughout the pregnancy.  My soul was searched for meaning.  My judgment altered.  My faith strengthened.  I learned forgiveness.  I learned compassion.  The humility that I pray for felt so far away, but it felt right.
At the moment of birth our hospital room was filled with a dozen upper echelon doctors and nurses who were all present for the treatment of any one of the many at-birth-complications a baby with Down syndrome is faced with.  "It's a baby!" one of the highly qualified doctors proclaimed.  "No, it's a boy!" exclaimed one of the overly qualified nurses.  Immediately after being forced into this world a few days early, Micah was rushed to an in-room exam crib to be poked, prodded, and cleaned up.  After they had decided it was in fact a baby boy, a brief moment later we were given the okay for him to have skin to skin time with Mommy.  It was during this time that the geneticist and cardiologist began saying our boy didn't have Down syndrome.  My heart sank.  What of all the things I had prepared for?  All of the hopes and dreams I had diminished.  I was intertwined with despair.  Why not us?  Did I not prepare enough?  Did God not think I could hack it?  Our OB reassured us that there was still a chance for Down.  Hope rushed back.  Then, just as soon as hope came back, it left.  Excitement rushed in.  Excitement for all the new different possibility's this Micah person, whom I had just met, would have throughout his life.

After living with Micah for just over a week we received test results determining that he did not carry an extra chromosome.  Although his extra chromosome is not a part of our life, all of the wisdom gained and new friendships made from the experience will be forever.  I would not trade the false positive prenatal Down syndrome diagnosis we had for the universe.  It is one of the highlights of my life, and a true learning experience.  Lesson #16 of being your own man:  Embrace and explore emotions, but keep them in a bottle... a very big bottle.

Woodsman

I've recently fallen for mother nature in a way that some might think cruel. I have an obsession with thick wooded areas that smell of fresh earth, where you can hear squirrels clicking up trees, and birds singing in the treetops, and my dogs can sniff out rabbits or deer. My obsession isn't mother nature alone, it's the time spent in the woods with a chainsaw and ax and a clear mind.  As soon as I was able to lift a splitting maul after open heart surgery I began my own "cardiac rehab".  There is just something primal about doing back breaking work; sweat pouring from your eyebrows, and gasping for that breath of crisp just-split-wood-scented air.  Honestly, I am lost as to why it's so nostalgic, maybe because trees have been used for fires since fire was invented, and fire has led us to technology.  I'm not sure.  This way or that, splitting a chunk of tree trunk by ax can be absolutely humbling at its best, dangerous at its worst, and self rewarding in between, making it the ultimate task for a man.  I feel that for one to be "man" one must first learn humility.  I'm not saying that great leaders who never took a fall didn't lead, I'm saying that great men who don't fall find it harder to stand.
Spending time in the woods conversing with one's self should be a requirement for every living soul.  The tranquility brought on by fresh air is unparalleled by any man made prescription, or any "downward dog" yoga pose.  As much as a man needs the economy to be stable, our country to be strong, the workforce to be employed, we need to maintain the earth we live on.  Thick vegetation that has been around long before us, primal man forged through it and utilized it.  In the months leading to the birth of my first child I have become attached to the outdoors more so than at any other time in my life.  I have contemplated nearly every possible scenario of my future life, as well as though of many brilliant multi-million dollar inventions/innovations...none of which will bring me wealth.

I hope that from this entry you will learn one of life's most valuable lesson: always take time for yourself.  Clearing your mind and finding your own nirvana is essential to becoming your own person.  Don't over think life, it will do what it does naturally, you just do what you do.  Lesson #32 of being your own man:  Make certain that you are the man you want to be.

Half Made Man

Being this my first blog, Intro: I have decided to blog as an outlet, and outreach to anyone trying to pave their own way along life's dirt roads.  This blog is in memory of my father, who in my eyes was his own man.  I hope to write tales of my more adventurous days of past, present, and future, and share with you the joy of mistakes, and lessons learned along the way.
A wife with a pen and paper can only be making a list for her husband, and with a baby on the way, it won't be short.
The car was cooling in the driveway with a trunk full of hardware store home upgrades while my wife and I embarked on a night walk under a star filled sky.  We talked about the day and were often interrupted by each others need to whistle for one or both of our boy dogs that were running loose everywhere but with us.  Suddenly came the topic that had me in the dog house nearly all week.  Back story: I had been foiled in my attempt to keep something from my wife until I deemed it the "right time" to talk about it.  It started with just one lie (it was more of an avoided answer/subject change) and ended with several not so brilliant lies.  As we talked about it on our walk I felt relieved that she hadn't castrated me yet, but more honestly I felt so relieved to not have to lie to her anymore.  The relief was nice, but the guilt was wretched.  Imagining the trust that she had lost in me because of my foolishness, and the added stress this would induce in her life, made me sick to be me.  Women are always right, the right woman can be a shepherd in times of need, although some men might spell shepherd with a capital B.  She told me what she expected from me, and like always, everyone of her "suggestions" were things that I knew I needed to do to better myself/situation that I put myself into without her help.  We all know how hard it is to drive a car with a woman in the passenger seat, but try navigating life without a woman by your side. -Dang near impossible! -both of 'em!

For every stitch a story.

The obvious lesson learned is that for better or worse you ought to be available to communicate with your spouse, whenever/wherever- two minds can conquer more than an elephant. In my parents marriage I can recall a few lies passed back and fourth between the two of them, but things were always better around the house when honesty was home.  Lesson 8 of being your own man: be your wife's man.