You are right, I think too much. Had I bitten the bullet for the past 6 weeks and kept biting on it to the point of chewing it through and through, my life could have been arguably more tolerable. After all, doing takes less work than doing plus thinking, right? But that ship has long sailed and I don’t think I will ever stop thinking.
Hello Darkness My Old Foe
So on one of those early days, I thought, “Something about this whole experience doesn’t add up.” I was just walking out of the drug store with diapers in one hand and formula in the other. As the elusive Vancouver sun graciously beamed down its warm embrace, my brain glitched for a second, not remembering how I got there or what I was doing. Then reality began to phase in and out of my mind like Hokey Pokey, and finally settled in for good. A fresh batch of weight materialized in my back, shoulder, and brain, as I remembered the vivid details of what is now the life I must hurry back to.
It helped that I was too afraid to slow down anyway. Sleep deprivation, stress, and uncertainty would have made a surefire cocktail of emotional destruction, and I was not going to give it the light of day. As I hastily closed the door on what might have been a dark harrowing alley of unprocessed feelings, I caught a glimpse of the me on the other side. Was that fear on his face? Or was it confusion, shock, or grief? “Not today”, I thought, “I’ll get back to you, but not today.” Slam.
Unexpected Channel of Hope
Suddenly a ray of hope came in the shape of a middle-aged man, then a lady walking out of Whole Foods, then someone pushing a stroller, then many many others. It occurred to me that more than half of these people had raised kids of their own. They seemed alive and well, undeterred and unscathed (perhaps) by the child-rearing experience. Since there was no reason to believe they had exceptional fortitude, what was I missing?
“The strongest of all warriors are these two — Time and Patience.”
― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
And these two warriors were kicking my butt. To those folks passing me by, the bite-size sleep, the inconsolable crying fits, and the dismantlement of orderly lives had been wrapped in neat little snowglobes, stashed on the far corners of their memory shelves. I was deeply humbled by the epiphany that they were qualifiably stronger and more resilient than me, and equally invigorated by the hope that if any average man had a good chance of surviving this, so would I, even if I was still on the other side of the snowglobe, drowning in glitters.
The Promised Land
Over the next couple of weeks, I finally began to see a feasible path back to Sanityland. Meanwhile, the “how” part of “Things will get better” and “You will get through this” that I received from all my beloved friends started to take concrete shapes. After what seemed like numerous feedings and diaper changes, I was overjoyed to detect a slight upward trend that would one day lift us back to the land of the living.
The most obvious contributor is of course the baby. As she grows, her bodily functions become more regulated and stable, requiring less frequent maintenance. For example, she has gained a healthy amount of weight over the weeks so she can go on for close to 5 hours without feeding during the night. She also poops much less frequently than before, which means fewer interruptions to, well, everything. When her esophageal sphincter develops over the months, she will suffer fewer hiccups and require less burping as well. That last one alone shaves off hours of time tending her each day.
These and many other changes promise a sliver of hope for structure and certainty amidst the pandemonium of today. However, I’m not so naive to think there is nowhere to go but up. It is almost certain that her growth will bring about other challenges, for many of which we are completely unprepared.
So It Was All Growth Pain?
Before this turns into a whole Sisyphus situation, I am pleased to announce that I have found some better anchors to attach my carabiner. My daughter isn’t the only one who has grown over the last month and a half. My wife and I have also been hard at work, learning on the job, stumbling along the way yet gradually getting a hang of this. From the shocking realization on Day 1 that I was severely underqualified for dadship, to implementing multiple systems to streamline and standardize the processes of her care, I have grown quite substantially too, and my wife even more than I.
The most underrated growth that afforded me the most relief was not the skills we acquired, but the simple confidence in knowing what to do. Previously, I had always been fearful of handling my friends’ babies and categorically refused to take them into my arms. What made them think I knew how to hold them? What if I broke something? What if through some mysterious maneuver of the baby or me, I dropped them? Oh, the horror that came with the mere thought of touching a baby always shivered my spine.
That did not change when the baby was mine and was certainly not limited to simply holding her. What was the best way to change her diaper? What should be the precise temperature of her formula? How many hours should she spend asleep, awake, playing, bonding, burping, and tummy time? Should I put her to sleep now, feed her again, or change the diaper first? What if she ate too much, ate not enough, slept too much, slept not enough? Why did so many people hate pacifiers?! The sheer volume of questions, doubt, and possibilities of breaking her in million ways was like a blender churning nonstop in my skull.
Now the blender has slowed down considerably. When the extra mental burden associated with practically everything I did gradually disappeared, I managed to not only become more efficient but also enjoy the process, and most importantly, enjoy my daughter. Finally, I was getting some positive spin on this whole experience. Finally, the shock subsided. Finally, I was getting used to the changes in lifestyle, even the bite-size sleep. It turned out human beings were indeed an adaptive bunch.
Hope Is Not That Simple
Hope is not for those who have been through the valley, but for those who are in it, those without the hindsight, and those who haven’t been plagued by the curse of knowledge. Hope should not be built upon the ignorance of cost, which is doomed to crumble before the face of brutal reality and its searing details. When hope is anchored physically, emotionally, and even spiritually, it is not easily dashed and will soon substantiate to reinforce itself before the next wave comes crashing. Find your hope if you are in the depth of any mental abyss, from raising a newborn for the first time, or worrying about the outlook of a teenager’s future, or any other challenge in life before it turns into your next stepping stone.
~ Du