My wife and I spent a lot of time preparing for our child’s arrival back in 2018. As the universe would have it, this little wonder was shattering our expectations before they even took their first breath.
That’ll Learn Ya
The first thing my wife and I did when we found out we were going to be bringing a little one into the world was start making assumptions—well, that and buying baby clothes and decorating a whole bedroom. We learned real fast that that was not going to be a wise move. The day came where we were scheduled to head in for an ultrasound and our tiny human had grown to the point were they could tells us the gender-at-birth. We’d discussed this prior to the appointment and we comfortable with knowing right away who we would be welcoming to our family.
I’ve been very fortunate in the way of parental presence. Both my mother and father were present, despite their eventual divorce in my teen years. I grew up with strong male and female family members to look up to. My grandmother on my mom’s side was known as a tireless hard worker and still found time to take care of anyone in the neighborhood that needed a helping hand. On my father’s side, I was gifted a firecracker of a grandfather who worked to bring his family to Michigan from Texas and build a life where everyone could thrive—not to mention his giggle was legendary. With all those poeple around me, I was able to come into manhood with amazing relationships and strong male role models. I was proud to be a son and a grandson to strong, proud, honest, and trustworthy men.
The aforementioned pride stored itself away in my psyche for the day when I was able to raise my own son to be a smart, resilient, hilarious, and strong addition to the King family. I would often daydream about all the things I would get to enjoy teaching and experiencing with my son as a rite of passge based on the patriachs who did the same for me. Having a kid on the way set me right up for the excitement of getting to meet that little guy face to face. So I was nothing less that happy and confident as we got ready to see who was waiting for us.
Who knew?
“Yep, that’s definitely a girl,” came the announcement from teh other end of the table as we stared at the black and white screen watching the various parts of our daughters body roll into view.
“Oh.”
Both my wife and I were caught off guard as our assumption were tossed on the floor in front of us. Hearing that we would be raising a daughter was a surprise to both of us and it probably showed on our faces to the tech in the room with us. For myself, I instantly had to reasses my plan of teaching “my son” all the things my father taught me. Playing sports, watching movies, listening to music were all goign to change. And just as fast, I may as well have smacked myself in the face right there in the exam room. I remember telling myself, Don’t be an idiot. You’re going to have an awesome kid that you can teach all the things you assumed you would be teaching to a little boy and neither you or that kid will miss out on a damned thing. I straigtend up and admonished myself for even thinking that way for a split second. The excitement returned and I was ready for that little girl to grace us with her presence.
The story was slightly different for my wife. Admittedly, I can only speak from my persective and don’t wish to put words into her mouth. She’s a brilliant woman who knows exactly how communicate her feelings and ideas. But she’s not here now, is she? So pipe down and let me continue.
The thing I noticed shortly after I kicked my but in gear and took stock of how my wife was dealing with the news, was she was wiping away a few tears. I was completely lost in this moment. I figured in some old-fashioned “battle-of-the-sexes” way, she would be ecstatic to have a little girl on the way. I tried to carefully inquire why she was crying. Were these happy tears, sad tears, or some combination. What followed was a response I had never considered. Her explanation to me was she too had assumed a boy was on the way and was concerned for her baby girl as she recalled her own experiences as a youth growing up in Wisconsin. She experienced something I would never understand first hand: the cruelty of the “mean girls” coupled with a healthy dose of societal expectations. Thinking of this time in her life filled her with sadness and fear that one day her little girl would experience the same disheartening treatment at the hands of some modern day incarnation of her past tormenters. I had no answer for this and could only be as suppotive as possible as she worked through these emotions.
The thing I walked away from the medical center knowing for certain was that our assumptions were useless and I better be prepared to start letting them go.
Unintentional Outcomes
As we progressed heading home with a small human and getting on with the business of raising a exciting, curious, hilarious, and cute young lady, we didn’t feel different, but we were.
It ended and I didn’t notice. It came back and I didn’t care.
The NBA season.
I’ve been a basketball fan my entire life. Since I was about five years old, I can remember sitting on the couch with popcorn and my old man. Before long the Detroit Pistons became the most important thing in my life—next to music. I watched every game that was on TV. I knew every player. I could go out in my backyard and mimic each player’s free throw motions to the T (looking at you Adrian Dantley). I got the green light to stay up late on school nights to finish watching games when Detroit was on a west coast trip and I fully took myself on to every court and basketball game through high school planning to showcase myself and one day make it to the NBA.
No.
I will say I was a decent player, however, I was a too-short, too-slow kid who also loved video games. Nevertheless, every basketball season, I was glued to the TV screaming and yelling and going to be angry when my team lost (a reaction that carried over to my own games—even through varsity basketball). It meant everything. Honestly, my favorite team winning back-to-back championships during my obssessive phase was probably the worst thing for me. I’m pretty sure it instilled an expectation that my favorite team can and should be better than any other team—all the time.
This same obsession carried over to my love of music. It mattered. Just like basketball, it was the most important thing in my life. I took every spare dollar I made and made my way to the record store. I constantly sat and listend to the mix shows on Saturday night hoping to hear that one song that was the best thing I’d ever heard. And hip hop being new to the world made it that much easier to maintain that enthusiasm. I carried a walkman everywhere, backpack full of cassette tapes. I couldn’t do a single chore around the house without my stereo plugged in at the nearest outlet. It was so intense that when I got grounded, my parents took my radios and CD players.
I say all of this to highlight that what was important to me as a kid all the way into adulthood was what I focused on and what drove my emotional state. I had to stay plugged into the newest music I wanted. I had to find a way to watch Pistons games no matter where I was. The janky DirecTV setup I had at my college apartment was pure comedy, but you know what? At tip off, I was right there in front of the TV with a frozen burrito piping hot from the microwave, watching my team, and still going to bed pissed if they lost. I was the guy living in Las Vegas and driving down to Thomas & Mack arena with a digital camcorder to record Pistons summer league games—before the NBA cared enought to try to gatekeep and charge to watch the games on TV—just so i could come back and stitch together highlights and report back to other super fans about exactly which young prospect played the best and showed the most promise.
The Switch
All of my personal obssessions were what defined me. I knew who I was because of my love of basketball and “my team” and how much I surrounded my self with music. Whether it was music I loved from my favorite artists or music I made myself—after having spend nearly 20 years teaching myself the ins and outs of digital music production.
Then something changed. I couldn’t pinpoint it. It didn’t happen on a particular day. There wasn’t that one event that changed everything. Over the course of the twelve months after we brought our little one home from the hospital, I began to notice a difference.
I’ve sat throught many years of my favoite team being terrible and I’ve been there to see them win championships in two different eras. And there I was still leaning on every game good or bad, dissecting each front office and coaching decisions. Spending 7 years podcasting with a close friend to gripe every year about the same failings was indicative of the ongoing obsession.
Imagine my surprise when I stopped to realize basketball season had started. And I hadn’t noticed. I spent the summer feeding, changing, and holding on to a tiny miracle that made every day worth waking up for. That same miracle that shattered my wife and I’s expectations before her birth was shattering our expectations for what being new parents would be like. We watched this little girl meet our dog for the first time, fresh from the hospital, and not a tear was shed as her eyes grew big as saucers wondering what this alient creature was that walked up to sniff her. Every time she learned something new, she would spring it on us. We wouldn’t catch her practicing or attempting to get it right. She would just show up one day and throw a new word, or phrase, or new level of humor at us that we weren’t prepared for.
At every turn, this little girl has been the best thing in my life and the one constant that continues to teach me how to move throught life. She came into this world shattering our expectations and assumptions, so I learned to let them go. And every time I’d forget, she’d surprise me with something else to show me I shouldn’t be making the same mistake.
The valuable lesson that I didn’t realize I was learning at first wasn’t how to stop making assumptions or having expectations, but to learn to let go of those same things. I let go of my assumptions about my daughter, whether it was her readiness for talking, walking, or even grasping complex concepts as she’s made her way to a smart-as-a-whip six-year-old with sharp wit and a huge heart. I let go of my need to plant myself in front of the TV to watch the same team I’d been watching for 40 years of my life. I let go of need to seek out and own every last piece of new music I came across. I let go of need to find out the latest news or keep up with or take sides in the latest beef between rappers. I let go.
Everyday I learn a new way to let go of something I’ve been holding onto for far too long. Electronic cables, old paperwork, old clothes, old tools, old cologne, and even grudges. I will always be grateful for this little girl entering my life. I have learned more about myself through her than I ever thought possible. I would have never guessed this kid would begin teaching me life lessons the second she appeared, but here we are. I thought I was supposed to be teaching her!
Nevertheless, letting go has been the easiest transition I never thought I would need to make. But once I got started, I was able to release so many more things physically and emotionally. The upside is that my hands are now free to hold up my little girl and help her become the strong-willed, confident, and intelligent being she is. I’m letting go of so many things that have outlived their usefulness in my life.
But I will never let go of my baby girl.
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