The baby was in no mood to wait. At 5:30 p.m. on Sunday, December 2, 2018, my wife went into labor, and, exactly 12 hours later, my daughter entered the world. She came so quickly that my wife’s epidural had barely taken effect, the nurses were scrambling, and the doctor had to be roused from a nap.
Birth did nothing to slow my daughter’s breakneck pace. She began clusterfeeding later that same evening. Nobody fell slept until around 6:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning; we hadn’t slept since Saturday night. My daughter continued clusterfeeding for the next two days, and by the time we left the hospital on Thursday, she was effectively back to her birth weight. This usually takes a week or more!
The first two months was a crash course, literally and figuratively; month three was a reversion to some sort of normalcy; and month four felt like we were finally making forward progress.
My daughter is currently four and a half months old, and below is a typical week day for us:
6:00-7:30 a.m. – Wake up and get ready for the day. Feed and dress a hungry, occasionally crying, baby.
7:30-8:00 a.m. – Drop my daughter off at daycare. I’m usually the transporter because my wife has a longer commute and less flexibility with her schedule.
8:30-9:00 a.m. – Arrive at the office.
4:45-5:00 p.m. – Leave the office. I usually bypass our house and go straight to pick her up from daycare (there’s a penalty if she’s there later than 6:00 p.m.). If it’s nice out, I’ll grab the stroller and walk.
5:30-6:00 p.m. – Pick up the baby at daycare.
6:00-8:00 p.m. – Feed and entertain the baby. Make dinner. Clean bottles and pumping equipment. Make lunches for the next day and pack workbags. The occasional load of laundry.
8:00-9:00 p.m. – Put baby to bed. Sometimes this takes five minutes, sometimes we’re at it for an hour or two. But the older she gets, the faster this goes.
9:00-10:30 p.m. – “Free” time. Catch up on any chores we still need to do, or on any work that I didn’t get done at the office. If it’s real free time, read a book or watch a show (I’m currently re-reading On Moral Fiction by John Gardner).
10:30-11:00 p.m. – Go to sleep, Brian!
2:00-3:00 a.m. – This is when the baby occasionally wakes up for a nighttime feeding. Even if she stays asleep, our two cats have learned that we’re often awake at this hour, so they’re usually parkouring around the condo like maniacs.
6:00-7:30 a.m. – Start at the beginning.
Disney World. This was taken on our last trip there in October 2017.
With Pain…
The first two months of parenthood was the most difficult and painful period of my life. I did my best not to bring any preconceived notions into parenthood with me, but it was still infinitely harder than I thought possible. In the first few weeks, I was only sleeping 90 minutes at a time, two or three times a day. The old adage “sleep when the baby sleeps” is mostly nonsense. Do you sleep? Shower? Eat? You only have time for one, so choose wisely. Or what happens if she refuses to sleep unless she’s being held? How does that change the equation?
For example, in the first month, my daughter would only fall asleep if she was held in a very specific way: With one hand supporting her head and another hand supporting her butt, but nothing else touching her — so we couldn’t cradle her in a typical fashion. Over time, this put enormous strain on my wrists, and they still ache throughout the day even though I haven’t had to hold her like that in two months.
There was also a stretch of time where she would only sleep if we held her while standing — she would know if we sat down, and then we’d have to start all over again. Standing on hardwood floors for hours every night hurts; my lower back and left knee still haven’t recovered.
Those first weeks were a blur: Rocking my daughter into something resembling sleep so that my wife could close her eyes for 30 minutes; changing diapers on a tiny, wriggling human who possesses a scream that pierces your soul; doing laundry two or three times a day because you’re perpetually covered in bodily fluids; not knowing if she’s eating enough or too much; and watching her scream in pain from the growth wracking her body.
While you imagine all of this, remember that you have no idea what you’re doing, your memory and judgment are fried from the lack of sleep, you’re in almost constant physical pain, and both you and your partner are emotionally compromised.
For comparison, the previous holder of “most painful experience” was in high school when I broke my radius and ulna (the two bones in your forearm) in my left arm. The doctors needed two six-inch steel plates — each with six screws — to fix my arm, and I spent three months in a cast up to my shoulder. In retrospect, that was a cakewalk.
…Comes Joy
Becoming a parent means sacrificing most of your own free time; not just time to do what you want, but the time to think what you want. Most days, we are just lurching from one moment to the next, trying to keep our life in order, and this constant need to be switched on truncates the amount of time you have to simply be with yourself.
But if there is a benefit to the limited “me” time, it has made me significantly more productive. Procrastination is not a word that exists in a new parent’s vocabulary. I only have a few hours to myself each week, so I’m going to spend it on projects that bring both meaning and (hopefully) pleasure to my life. This article was entirely written in that 9:00-10:30 p.m. window in the schedule above.
Of course, I wouldn’t change a thing. The responsibility that comes with raising my daughter has created a deep, abiding satisfaction that nothing else has matched. The purest form of joy I have ever felt is when my daughter looks up at me — and smiles. Watching her mind and body develop has been incredible, and it fills me with hope and happiness when I think about all of the possibilities her future holds.
It’s difficult to illustrate these emotions as concretely as I can the painful experiences. But I can say, without deceit or irony, that the joy and satisfaction of parenthood far outstrips the pain.
Respect
For all the complaining I did earlier, my wife has suffered more. On top of everything I complained about, she’s had to deal with the incredible physical strain of childbirth, and breastfeeding, which is harder than I thought possible. The sheer level of stress over the first few months of parenthood can easily pressure the relationship between spouses, but communicating (and sharing responsibilities) is the best release valve for that pressure.
Becoming parents has brought us closer together, and seeing my wife’s strength through all of this has deepened the love and respect that I feel toward her.
A Note on the Title
I can’t take credit for the title of this article. A colleague at Morningstar used the phrase to describe his own experience with parenthood, and he indicated that it was not original to him. A Google search revealed that it’s the name of a 1980 song by Daniel Johnston. There is also a book on parenthood called All Joy and No Fun by Jennifer Senior.