The First Turn

I'd describe myself as a darn good skier, but I admit that I still get butterflies when I'm peering over the edge of a super-steep run that I'm about to schuss. Depending on the angle of the slope and whether any obstacles are present--such as rock or ice patches, or dead skiers--a fall on a steep slope could be anywhere between mildly damaging to the ego and severely damaging to the skeleton. So I stand there for a while working up the nerve, but in doing so I'm giving myself time to think, "What if I fall?" It is exactly what I shouldn't be thinking about.

Ask anyone who skis the steeps and they'll tell you: it's all about the first turn. Nail it, and your apres-ski will include beer and hot tubs. Miss it, and your apres-ski will likely include anesthesia and operating rooms. The first turn has absolute power, and you'd better respect it.

Becoming a parent for the first time is a lot like making that first turn. For a while you stand at the edge of the experience, peering over the edge with eyes wide, wondering what it's going to be like. Anticipation grows. The uncertainty and excitement build and can even manifest themselves physically--you might become queasy, and sometimes you can't sleep. Ultimately, you reduce it to a simple question, one that you unconsciously ask yourself a million times over: Can I do this?

And then it's time to make the first turn. Your child is born, and you hold him for the first time. You hear him scream for the first time. You feel his breath as you lean in closer and gaze into his eyes for the first time. Amazingly, he gazes back, and when he does, you answer your own question: Yeah, I can do this! Scary as it was to stand at the top of the slope and stare down onto what seemed to be infinite steepness, you find that this first turn wasn't so hard to make.

I nailed that first turn, and now I'm having the run of my life. I think I see beer and hot tubs in my future.