See that little bundle of joy I'm holding over there in that picture?  That's my new daughter.  She is about 6 weeks old in that (relatively recent) shot.
 
Before she arrived, I was full of trepidation; and frankly as a 45-year-old guy who is set in his ways, I was freaking out about her arrival.  The house will be full of baby crap; we'll never go out as much; we'll start using words like "onesey" and "poop."  Believe me, I had a litany.
 
Turns out everything I feared has come to pass.  Although I have managed to insist that those cloth thingies you put on your shoulder for feeding be referred to as "baby rags."
 
But being a man and not possessing maternal instincts, it turns out I totally forgot to factor in one very important thing: that I'd love the baby.  I mean, love.  Love, love, love.  Look at her.  Look at me.  That's love, folks.  It doesn't get any more pure.
 
And the point is this.  Guys, if you find yourself in this position, trust me.  If you have anything resembling a heart, the kid will arrive and you'll be an instant sucker.  Hell, I'm shopping for ponies at lunch today.  Everything will fade in the glory and wonder of your new live baby.
 
And women-- don't let your husband's fear and apprehension deter you.  You are right and he is wrong (but then, you already know that).  I thank the great Spirit in the Sky every day that my wife didn't let mine stop her.  I will be eternally grateful for the rest of my life.
 
Oh yeah.  My wife.  That's someone else I love.  And I always will.  I just wish she'd read the damn blog so she'd be as up on this stuff as the 5 of you.