This is our last baby.
Since my wife, Nancy, started showing, she’s made sure to fit this tidbit into the first stanza of every conversation.
At the hospital, she informed each nurse. Unprompted.
I’m a lucky guy. I didn’t necessarily envision myself having a family of five (although I grew up the youngest of three). I simultaneously feel like I’m walking in someone else’s shoes and that this is 100% what all of the rigamarole leading up to this was all about.
Still, I’m with Nancy: five is enough.
We’ve got plenty of help, and seven days in we’re holding up a-ok, but it isn’t easy.
I’m taking naps directly after three cups of coffee.
I’m meticulously tracking poops and pees (second only to tummy time among a modern dad’s most serious newborn tasks), and my “sleep” is on a sleeping pad in the darkest room in our house next to our newest family member.
When I set her down, hoping she’ll sleep on a schedule suited to humans out of utero, I say little prayers to myself that she won’t cry. My requests have become very specific. May I please have 30 minutes of sleep? When there is initial silence, I start to count, hoping that if I make it to 20, I’m headed toward a bit of sweet, sweet REM.
Even by the next morning, it’s nearly impossible to remember how uncomfortable this no sleep thing is.
Somehow, this already feels normal. A week ago, I was giving a very different set of things this much attention.
Before she arrived, I was frantically trying to tie up loose ends at work. I wanted to get things finished before paternity leave. A reasonable goal, and one I apparently believed I could accomplish despite sixteen years of evidence about how many loose ends a business can produce.
Of course the ends didn’t get tied.
Now I’m scrolling my phone at 3 a.m., watching from afar as things happen at work. Mostly enjoying it. I like seeing what people are doing.
But the frantic feeling I had before she arrived looks a little silly from here. Some of the things I was trying so hard to finish feel pretty trivial. I still care about them. I’m just wondering how many of those to-dos needed the level of urgency I was giving them.
We timed it right. If you run a popsicle business, early October is a good time to have a baby. Beautiful walking weather and not too much disruption to peak money-making season.
At home, the older two are adjusting right along with us.
Big sister wants to push the stroller and do anything she can to help. My two-year-old boy, a fun-loving ham who can go from dancing to tantruming on the floor in seconds, is being gentle with his little sister.
So I’m trying to soak up this last paternity leave as best I can. I’m excited to get back to work, but this time, somewhat to my surprise, I’m excited to be right where I am. In the tired, wild, painful middle of it.
