“Your lives are going to change” and other colossal understatements about parenting
September 30th, 2009Today is my last day of paternity leave, which means that two weeks have passed since the birth of our beautiful baby girl, Aralyn. I do believe someone is playing a trick on me, like that episode of The Office where they turn the clocks forward to make the boss think it’s 5.00 pm so that everyone can go home. Because surely it has not been two weeks since we brought her home from the hospital.
Speaking of hospitals, let me begin by saying this. Although we received excellent care at the Kaiser Permanente Santa Clara hospital, I did question their judgment when they told us we can go home with the baby. You mean to tell me we’re allowed to take a whole human being home with us, without anyone supervising us? Highly irresponsible of them, if you ask me. But I digress.
Speaking of digressing (and I’m allowed to do that since I didn’t sleep last night), here’s another observation. When you first tell people that you are about to have a baby, their initial reaction is always a wonderfully self-affirming excitement, followed by the universally agreed-upon “when are you due?” question. (Or, as one friend put it, “When did it happen?” None of your business when it happened, buddy!).
What happens next is also quite predictable. Those who don’t have kids move on to other subjects and the matter is quickly forgotten. But those who have kids take a different route. There are a few seconds of silence, a widening of the pupils, a knowing and mysterious smile, followed by the words, “Your lives are going to change.” These words are usually spoken in a chilling monotone that somehow seems to suck the air out of the room. I’ve always wondered about that. There is so much emotion and experience bundled up in the simple words “Your lives are going to change,” that I was too afraid to ask them to elaborate.
Well, now I know what it means. It means that elation, helplessness, joy, tiredness, ridiculous love, and feelings of inadequacy actually become one giant ball of emotion when you have a child. All these things become so intertwined that you can’t tell them apart, just as you have trouble telling night from day. And I think this is a good thing. I think it is good that for the first few weeks/months of a child’s life, you are physically incapable of focusing on anything else in your life. Because caring for a child is that important, and you should not be allowed to make it just another part of your life.
And so Aralyn, Jess and I survived the first two weeks of her life. Here’s a brief rundown of what we survived. These might seem like small accomplishments, but they sure feel big to us:
- We survived the first night of trying everything in our power to soothe her while I speed-read The Happiest Baby on the Block in a desperate attempt to learn the inner workings of swaddling.
- We survived our first two visits to the Kaiser “Newborn Club” where the nurses taught me made-up words such as “hooter hider” and “nipple confusion.”
- We survived our first freak-out session over her erratic breathing and the (what appeared to be a) 10-year old doctor who couldn’t get an accurate oxygen reading, gave up, left the room, and called a nurse to help us instead.
- We survived our first appointment with the pediatrician who I’m pretty sure was in the cast of Fawlty Towers at some point in his life. At least he could get an accurate oxygen count, though.
- And most of all, we survived the lack of sleep. Nothing can prepare you for the lack of sleep.
I also feel obligated to answer a question my friend G-J asked me on Twitter today:
@RianVDM Are the nappies [diapers] as terrifying as you anticipated? Is the Diaper Genie II holding up well?
The answer to both of those questions is a resounding YES! Diapers continue to be extremely terrifying to me, especially the variety of colors and smells that currently make up the poopiness inside. Right now we’re at the “Dijon Mustard” stage, and sometimes at 3am it’s so eerily similar that I almost want to go toast some bread and… well, you know what I mean.
But the Diaper Genie II is a magnificent piece of equipment. It’s one of those rare products that actually delivers on its promise of keeping dirty diapers out of sight and smell. Although we did learn an important lesson last night. When it’s full, it’s full. The bags tear easily so don’t keep pushing things down in there, otherwise you will be forced to put on full scuba gear and dish washing gloves to clean up the resulting mess.
So here we are, two weeks in. And even though it might sound like I’m complaining, I assure you that I am not. The hardest part of parenting so far, for me, is the occasional feeling of helplessness. The fact that she is crying, there’s something wrong, and there is simply nothing I can do about it.
But most of the time I just dream about her. I wonder what kind of person she will be, what her passions are going to be, what she will teach me over the years, and how on earth I am ever going to learn to say “no” to her. Because when she falls asleep on my chest, I realize that those who told us “Your lives are going to change” had it right, but they should have followed it up with even truer words.
“And you won’t want it any other way.”
sume September 30th, 2009 at 11:22 pm
so mooi opgesom…en ja…jy wil dit nie anders he nie…nooit weer nie….
Pippa October 1st, 2009 at 4:21 am
Hate to break this to you, but nappies don’t smell that bad until you wean them. Keep the guarentee on that diaper genie handy until then
Also don’t worry too much about the breathing – I used to lie there awake at night listening to Ruth breathing and worrying myself sick, she sounded like a cross between a velociraptor and a steam train, then she would hyperventilate for a bit, then stop breathing for 10 seconds. Every time I took her to the doctors (sometimes with a video as evidence), they would just tell me that it was all completely normal. And talking to other mums, it seems that it is. I regard that as the single biggest omission of anti-natal teachings.
Anyway very impressed that you are still managing to blog – keep it up
Pippa x
Annie October 1st, 2009 at 10:56 am
Don’t feel bad – I have three kids and I have no idea what a “hooter hider” is.
I agree with you that people always sound so ominous and sometimes negative when you announce a pregnancy. You even left out the “birthing horror story” phase, where every woman who’s ever given birth has to share their birthing horror story… to make you feel better about giving birth?
Heather October 2nd, 2009 at 8:15 am
Ha ha ha ha ha! Ohhhh Rian – I loved reading this!! Yes the first night is always crazy and yes, when they let you leave the hospital you wonder what they smoked that morning?!!! And yes, that ball of emotions pretty much stays the same…. the feelings of unbelievable joy and helplessness all at the same time! I hate to say it, but from what I hear, that sticks around for a long time. That is why people say their kids drive them insane (aka: the feelings of helplessness because now YOU are reponsible for decisipling a little person into a reasonable functioning big person) and yet you wouldn’t want it in other way (aka: its all worth it!). We are so excited for you guys! Welcome to the adventurous ride of parenting! Speaking of nappies….. the smell is now permated into every corner of myhouse! Time to change 2 of them! And yes, you too will chuck out that Diaper Geinie when you wean from milk to solids!! Whew!
Keep the blogs coming!
BellaDaddy October 2nd, 2009 at 8:47 am
Ah, but consider this…you both will be experts, handing out your own brand of advice soon! Welcome to Parenthood!
Kudos!
WeaselMomma October 4th, 2009 at 10:00 am
She is beautiful! Congrats! And not to add more anxiety to you life, but newborn diapers are a walk in a garden. Wait until solid foods (well actually baby foods, but they are called solids -God only know why) are introduced to her diet or God forbid, TABLE FOOD! Woo-wee! Enjoy her and love her and even when things get nastier t clean up, you still wouldn’t want it any different. Except that you will dream of her being potty trained.
Christian October 5th, 2009 at 10:12 pm
Rian, Thanks for reminding me what it was like back then. You’ve captured it so well, and there’s nothing better than this odd mix of exhaustion and elation.
One tip: enjoy the Diaper Genie II and don’t think too much about what it’s doing in the landfill.
Dan Erickson October 6th, 2009 at 1:03 pm
Enjoy it all! I’ve been a parent 11 years so far and it keeps getting better. She’s going to smile at you (for real, not just pooping), and then she’ll laugh, talk, walk, read. She’s going to figure out how to say she loves you in her own way. You have a lot to look forward to.