Fatherhood

It is becoming an ever more apparent reality that I am soon becoming a father. We're now eighteen weeks along, and thanks in part to today's miracle technology we are almost certain it is going to be a girl.
This excites me as much as it tortures. Though I certainly did not expect a child at my age-let alone in the midst of an arduous journey into academics-I've always had a soft spot in my rugged interior for a daughter. As much as I resist admitting it, I simply cannot wait to hold this, my little progeny, in my arms.
I suppose one of the most sobering sensations the prospect of fatherhood brings is the realization of how deeply inadequate I am. It is a peculiar emotion. A deep sense of fear, mingling with pride and introspection; that is the best way to describe it. I'm slowly cataloging a list of bad habits I must drop-my smoking being the foremost among them.
As prone as I am to wander off into fruitless introspection, I should bring this discussion back down to earth. This pregnancy has another, unwelcome, aspect which must be addressed. My fiance, whose privacy I will here protect, is likely not going to carry this infant well. The child is itself in excellent shape-according to all we've been told thus far-but the mother's health is a serious issue. She is a lifelong Diabetic, and the pregnancy has already caused her a great deal of physical harm. We can only hope that the coming months go smoothly.