March Madness

Sleep deprivation is not fun. It can make you think things you probably shouldn’t. And then it makes you focus on these things until you fall apart. I’ve had sleepless nights as worrisome thoughts enter my brain and make things that aren’t so bad, seem awful. In fact, when we were dating, I went through an episode like this with Heather. I remember worrying about something at work so much that it made me ill and made me feel crazy. I also remember the look on Heather’s face when I was going through this. It was like, “What have I gotten my self into?” Luckily and as usual it all passed. I don’t go through those moments a lot, but they are nasty when they hit. Just this past week it was my turn to comfort as Heather experienced the reality of motherhood.

First of all, I have to make it clear that Heather is a wonderful person and will be perhaps the greatest mommy ever. But as you moms and most dads know, it takes a little time. What makes this so difficult is the rapid pace at which it all begins. Heather’s contractions really started kicking in Saturday morning. Finley was born early Sunday morning. The friends and relatives swung by Sunday afternoon. By Sunday night, it was just the two of us, alone in the hospital room, looking at this little person we just made. It was like someone handed us this kid, said “Go!” and ran away.

Of course, going into the birth, we thought we were prepared. And really, we were. But there is no amount of planning to get you ready for this… Unless you’ve already been through it. Those of you who know Heather know she is a planner. She likes to do things her way and she likes to have a schedule to get it all done. All the people she works with are nodding in agreement. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s why she is good at what she does. And those of you who know me, know that I’m a little more laid back and I go with the flow. Together, we compliment each other. A baby has no plan. Let me correct that. Our baby has a plan, but it’s nothing of which we are aware. I bet if she could talk, she would share it with us. Or not.

It’s a very overwhelming thing. Especially for Heather. For nine months (ten, if you are paying attention) she carried this kid around and dealt with physical and emotional changes and toward the end got pretty used to it. Then, WHAM! She’s pushing this person out of her body and now has to start nursing and caring with no chance to breathe. I’m not saying she’s any different from any other mom out there, I’m just trying to explain what it’s like.

Babies are good at three things. Crying, eating and pooping. Not necessarily in that order. We are blessed, at this point, that Finley is not a shrieker. That is to say her cries are more fussy sounds than all-out wails. And we are also blessed that she likes us. We can both hold her to calm her and it doesn’t take too much time. But the kid, like her old man, can eat. And eat. And eat. The first few days she was eating more than sleeping, which sent us (Heather especially) into a no-sleep zone. It’s not hitting me as much, since I’m not the nursing type. Don’t get me wrong, I do my part. But when it comes to lactating, I’ve got nothing.

So, Heather is up in the night, feeding and trying to sleep next to Finley. But when you haven’t had much sleep it’s hard to find peace when your mind is racing. She’s worried about being a mama and our relationship and all the things that parents think about. And with sleep deprivation, those thoughts are magnified. Again, I know a lot if not all you mamas out there are nodding in agreement. I also know you mamas will say that it passes. I know that. Heather knows that. It’s just hard to see that far ahead at this point.

But here’s the thing. For all the worrying and crazy thoughts that are going through Heather’s mind, she’s doing it. She’s being a mama. Finley isn’t starving. Her diapers are changed. She’s getting all the love in the world. And she really is a good baby. Sometimes it’s hard to see in a sleepy fog, but Heather is doing what it takes to make it happen. The sleep will come. The schedule that seems so out of reach will slowly reappear. And that’s my job as a daddy. To remind her how good of a job she’s doing. To lend a hand however I can. Whether it’s a diaper change or a rock to sleep or even taking over the cooking and cleaning duties, that’s my job. It occurs to me that the job of daddy is really just an offshoot of the job of husband. To be a good daddy, you need to be a good husband. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my girls. Plus, I know that in just a few years, a little girl will scold me for not following mommy’s schedule.