Almost 3 Weeks a Dad

When I started, this blog was titled “2 weeks a Dad.” Seems like a long time ago. Huh.

Throughout my writing journey I’ve loved using the phrase “Live From the Haze,” (think Live from New York). The reflective meditation feels like I’m writing a little letter as a window into whatever fog is surrounding my everyday. So: Live from the Haze, thoughts on my first few weeks of Fatherhood:

• The poops are the funniest part. I have to start here. We have a loud pooper on our hands, and I’ve watched her work for an hour to exorcise a demon. There’s nothing like holding a tiny, beautiful little girl and feeling the poop violently exit her body. Among the many merit badges I’ve collected thus far are the coveted:
  • Blowout
  • Up the back
  • Catch poop in diaper
  • Catch poop in hand
  • Scrub shotgun blasted poop off the wall
  • Holy trifecta: mid-diaper change throw up, pee, & poop. She’s talented, and in these moments I cannot help but laugh

• She gets very hangry, not unlike mom & dad. Things go from 0-100 real quick. They tell you there are cues, “She’ll tell you when she’s hungry, just pay attention.” They do not prepare you for her to wake up screaming. She didn’t come out with any patience, and doesn’t understand it might take a second to summon the food
• Everything is worse at night. Each sunrise is a battle won, greeted with relief like the coming of Gandolf to Helm’s Deep

• The act of birth, or labor, is another blog (that may never be written)
• I’ve learned so much, and I’ve forgotten much of it already

• There is no predictability or routine. Most advice for newborns we’ve found starts at one month. Before that? Endure
• My dad naps have not quite come in yet. People in the know speak of a mother’s milk coming in a few days after birth. Well, my dad naps are taking a while to arrive. I can’t wait to fall asleep anytime anywhere, but my body still seems to resist. Like breast milk can be encouraged with certain foods, maybe I just need to mow the lawn and settle down for an afternoon baseball game to really persuade the Dad Nap to take hold

• This is a wonderful time of year to have a newborn
  • The sun is up early
  • The sun is down late
  • In our neck of the woods, the bloom has really settled in the last few weeks, and there’s so much hope for the season this time of year. Summer is fully ahead of us
  • It’s nice enough to go for walks with the baby and not panic about if she’s too hot or too cold
  • Since her birth, I can count on one hand how many nights have gone by without a Bruins or Celtics game. We were in the hospital for a few days and the games were a nice treat. I’ve watched them all, though not every minute. I have a baby to care for, after all
  • Piggybacking on the wonder of NHL & NBA playoffs, never would I have stayed up to watch a west coast 10pm puck drop/ tipoff. Now? It’s something to do during my shift
  • Historically, and naturally, January and February are very difficult months for us. Winter gloom puts us in cave mode. This seems like a bad time to have a baby. When spring sprungs in April, we are lifted with hope for the summer ahead. Shorts are donned as we sunbathe in 50 degree heat. This is when we had our baby girl, and the world around seems to rejoice with us in this beautiful, life changing event. Trees and flowers bud, colors arrive, birds and bees are back, peepers and owls fill the night with sound, and sunshine washes away so much darkness. I recommend an August conception

• Nighttime thoughts
  • Everything is worse at night
  • The cry of a newborn is *more* easily brushed off during the day. It’s what they do. At night, baby crying hits from deep within; an instinct buried inside your bone marrow this tickles like IV fluid first entering the blood stream. The world becomes very small and there is nothing but the baby. It’s a Darwinian impulse as old as time, and takes over all thought with one overwhelming urge: fix whatever is making this baby cry as fast as fucking possible
  • Sometimes, there is nothing that can be done. Feed, love, change (diaper, setting, clothes). Wait
  • I hear it gets worse
  • More of a week 1 problem, from week 2.5 this is easier: It might sound stupid, but how do you feel comfortable letting the baby sleep? How do you not check every 10 seconds that she’s still breathing? Let alone get some sleep yourself. I compare it to rummaging around in the dark, lonely basement late at night. Every time I return upstairs, uneaten by monsters, it gets easier. Repetition. I wake up, stroke her cheek and rub her arm to see her twitch, or zero my eyes in to see the rise and fall of her small chest. Every time it gets easier to believe that she’s totally fine
  • Sometimes she just needs to be held, and won’t sleep on her own at night. Normal. How to stay awake? I’ve rediscovered that video games can keep me up all night. Lots of Zelda

• On physicality
  • We’ve all seen that Dad; the one that’s much too comfortable with a fragile baby. The one all the women watch with hawk eyes when they’ve got the little one. Before having my own to practice with, my typical guy response to being offered a baby to hold was “Let’s wait a year or two” (I held every baby I could get my hands on during Grace’s pregnancy, to practice). Now? I taste that comfort of the reckless Dad. I maneuver & reposition this little creature with ease. Trepidation toward the delicate baby is gone. Grab that head, swing the butt around, stuff limbs into cute outfits- I do it all now
  • It’s amazing how much you can do with one arm. Football carrying a newborn leaves you with a full arm to complete tasks. Even when she’s flailing and wriggling, rolling her center of mass all over with jerky movements of a squishy head, I have plenty of dexterity left to ready a pot of coffee, or apply deodorant
  • Baby girl is much stronger than I anticipated. One of the first diaper changes in the hospital, she rolled her head and traversed the width of the bassinet in a blink
  • It’s so fun to practice your diapers and swaddles on compliant stuffed animals at baby showers. In reality, she wrestles like a 5.5lb worm (with flailing limbs) being put on a fishing hook, and a tight swaddle is the only thing that will calm her down. Pin that baby and get the job done
  • When it comes to changing, dressing, & cleaning: I am a Nascar pit crew

• When she was born, there was not a Big Bang, universe exploding blast of perspective-changing spiritual or religious force that hit me. To hear some people speak of birth, everything about their person and paradigm changed in an instant. I’m here to report that my glass did not shatter. We’ve been preparing- mentally, physically, spiritually- for months now. No, my world view didn’t change in a heartbeat. Instead I was hit with a giant wave of relief. The pregnancy was fraught with anxiety over various concerns, and having a healthy Baby and Momma was all I dreamed of. With each second of good health, I grew calmer and more relaxed. We were so excited to meet her, and once we got to, everything became better. Unrealized nightmares drifted away like lanterns on the sea
• Fatherhood is the paltry lordling to Motherhood’s royalty. I am in awe of how Grace has rolled with the punches. She’s been a Mom for months now, and despite changes of the body, its chemistry, routine, sleep, the difficulty of recovery- her spirit shines bright for all of it. I’m lucky to have a wonderfully natural, hard working, and joyful partner to care for our baby
• It isn’t easy- it’s very hard. There are hard moments, and hard days. And they aren’t over. This baby is lucky she’s cute. I’m looking forward to the day when she can actually interact with us, instead of being a pet nugget poop factory we have to keep alive
• Nellie is quick to humble us whenever we’re feeling confident
• The support we’ve felt from family and friends is nothing short of overwhelming. The meals, texts, calls, validation, gifts, cards, and every show of love has made us feel so utterly grateful, and supported. If it takes a village, we’ve got quite the community assembled

I suppose that’s all for now. Much love

ZDad