to be (a dad) or not to be.

As a 24 year-old, I’m starting to get my first taste of life as a
gay dad.

The paternal instinct has be growing inside me. The flame of
parenthood is being kindled by some previously unknown desire deep
within me – and each week it grows a bit stronger. This much I
know: I won’t be able to ignore it forever.

So, alas, I’m giving in. About a month ago, I called an adoption
agency. For rescued greyhounds. My journey to parenthood will be
one of small, calculated baby steps. I’ll start with a dog.

All week, as its get closer to adoption day, I’ve been examining
the impacts that this decision will have on my life. I’ve always
valued my personal freedom. And on that adoption day, I will be
exchanging some of that freedom for responsibility. My heart knows
it is the right decision, but my mind is terrified of the
consequences. Much less spontaneity. Another mouth to feed.
Playtime to schedule. Fewer weekend trips. An extra airline ticket
to buy. Vet bills.

While examining these consequences, I realized that I was getting
my first very small taste of life as a dad. For the first time, my
life won’t just be about me: it will be about someone else.

My mind is asking the very logical question, “Why are you doing
this to yourself.” To which my heart¬† is replying, “Because a life
is measured by the love you share.”

It’s time.