The Birth Watch Part II: The Decision
Choosing a birth watch that earns its legacy and meaning.
The clock is ticking—literally and figuratively—as time marches forward into the uncharted territory of fatherhood. At the time of writing we are two weeks away from our due date and are standing on the precipice of a new chapter in the long song of life.
Previously, I wrote an article exploring the philosophy of a birth watch and the thought process behind selecting a timepiece that could one day become a treasured family heirloom. (Side note: every time I say, read, or write the word heirloom—which, to be fair, isn’t often—all I can picture is baby Grinch from How The Grinch Stole Christmas destroying his aunties’ jewels to make a necklace for Martha-May Whovier. Thanks for indulging me in that little trip down memory lane.)
In that article, I narrowed my options down to four potential watches: the Tudor Black Bay 58 (Black Dial), Nomos Glashütte Club Campus 703.1, IWC Pilot’s Watch “Le Petit Prince” (40mm), and the Rolex Explorer 1 (Ref. 124270). And that is where this story picks up.
Where We Are In The Process
As I began writing Part II of this journey, a major event occurred that fundamentally altered the nature of this exercise. With that said, I believe vulnerability breeds connection.
At the time of writing, my wife and I recently learned that our soon-to-be-born son may have a heart defect. While we’ve been assured it is entirely treatable and that he will go on to live a long, healthy life, the fear and anxiety that comes with our first experience of parenthood have cast a shadow over what should be one of the most joyous times of our lives. This revelation has reshaped how I think about fatherhood and, in turn, what this process of choosing a birth watch truly means.
Struggling to articulate my thoughts on a topic that suddenly felt secondary, I turned elsewhere for inspiration. I found it in an article by Zach Weiss of Worn & Wound. Though I don’t know Zach personally, his words reignited the importance of a birth watch for me. He reflected on how his father’s love of horology became a shared passion, one that connected them and ultimately inspired him to start Worn & Wound in 2011. Even if my son never shares my love for watches—he might even resent them for the time and attention they take from me—I hope, as with my own father and his music, that I can pass on an appreciation for the things I value, whether or not he realizes it at the time.
Another article, by Ben Clymer, surfaced after my first piece and further influenced my perspective. While I’d love to claim my story inspired his reflections on how fatherhood has reshaped his view of his watch collection, it was, in fact, his words that helped shape this continuation of my own story. As Jack once advised me about writing, “You need to let the thoughts gel before you put them down.” And that’s exactly what I’ve done.
A Philosophy On Meaning
I am a writer—or at least, that’s what I like to call myself. And as a writer, I often find myself questioning the purpose of what I write. Some write to inform, others to entertain. Some aim to do both and succeed. For me, it all boils down to something Stephen King wrote in On Writing: “You can’t please all readers all the time. Write with one person in mind.” Today, that person is my son. I want to leave behind words and stories that help him navigate this world, inspire him to suck the marrow from every moment life provides, and remind him to never leave a stone unturned.
This brought me to an article on The Deep Track about modern Polerouter releases, which struck a chord. It noted, “There’s an underlying element that I can’t quite shake, and that has to do with the watch itself taking a backseat to the emotional elements of the story. Its value is associated with the story’s ability to elicit an emotional reaction from potential buyers… It’s easier to sell an incredible story and a piece of history than it is a lifelong companion ready to make its own stories in the context of your life and experiences.” Later, the author added, “The meaning is something you add over time, not something that comes pre-packaged from the brand.” These words helped crystallize my thoughts.
Buying a watch should rarely be an impulse decision. Unless you’re someone with unlimited discretionary funds, spending thousands on a whim isn’t like grabbing a Reese’s at the checkout line.
As someone obsessed with the story and the meaning we attach to objects—especially watches—I began to ask myself: How do you purchase a story? How do you buy history? The deeper I delved into these questions, the more I feared regret: buying into the hype of a “historical” release only to find it overshadowed by the next big thing on the conveyor belt of commercially manufactured sentiment. But through this reflection, I realized something fundamental: meaning isn’t bought—it’s earned.
This truth applies to much more than watches. Whether it’s the money in your wallet or the Bitcoin you wish you’d bought in 2017, value is a social construct. It’s the meaning we collectively agree to attach. And that’s what a birth watch boils down to. It doesn’t need to be a Rolex or a Tudor. It could just as easily be a MoonSwatch or a Casio I impulsively grabbed at Walmart. What matters is the meaning it accrues over time—the experiences it witnesses, the memories it holds. A house has no value until it’s lived in, and a watch is just a tool until it becomes a companion to your story.
This isn’t a new revelation. Throughout history, humans have imbued objects with meaning, whether it’s a Buddhist’s red string bracelet that reminds them of their spiritual journey or a family heirloom passed down through generations. I recently read an article where a monk explained the bracelet’s significance: when it erodes and falls away, it symbolizes the end of a chapter in life. You can’t hold onto physical objects forever. While I don’t expect a watch to erode, the sentiment is the same.
Whatever watch I choose for my son will earn its meaning over time. History isn’t prescribed or gifted—it’s cultivated. Only in hindsight will its value truly reveal itself. Maybe I put too much stock in material things—call me a sucker for good marketing—but at the end of the day, whatever watch makes its way into my collection, whatever timepiece is on my wrist through the turbulence and triumphs of first-time fatherhood, will undoubtedly become the perfect watch.
Don’t worry I won’t leave you hanging… My son’s birth watch will either be the Tudor Black Bay 58 or the Rolex Explorer 1 ref. 124270.