Our first day with Tommy, doing our best to stay awake!
When people discover that you’ve got a baby on the way, they issue a lot of warnings. “You’re in for it now,” “It’s the ride of your life,” that sort of thing.
“You’re going to get peed on, dude,” was my particular favorite. It hasn’t happened yet, by the way, but I’ve stood there like Jules and Vincent in Pulp Fiction, pee on everything but me. I surveyed the destruction and turned on the boy, armed with a wipe and a fresh diaper.
They kick you out of the delivery room and into a post-partum room a few hours after delivery. Thankfully, they gave me a healthy dose of coffee right beforehand. Throughout the first day, our boy was angelic and quiet, stirring only when hungry.
Beth and I were terrified. We listened to every noise he made and watched him constantly. Visitors came and went, a welcome distraction from our vigil. As night fell, Beth expressed her fear of falling asleep, certain that one of us should be watching Tommy at all times.
“We’ll sleep in shifts,” I announced, like a zombie-apocalypse survivor. For some reason, Beth agreed.
The nurse was not impressed when she found me standing over our son, barely awake, so late it was early. “You’ve got to sleep, [moron].” “Moron” was implied in her look.
That was all the encouragement I needed. The dad-couches they have at the hospital aren’t very comfortable, but lack of sleep makes them feel heavenly. I was out in seconds. Beth was already asleep, so she couldn’t debate me or try to stay awake herself. An hour later, at five in the morning, we were awake again, anyway. Our perfect angel was hungry.
The first week is like that. You’re on a three-hour schedule, but every day gets better. Mostly.
On day two, I went home to collect the things we’d forgotten, and received a panicked phone call from Beth almost as soon as I arrived at home. Tommy, fresh from his circumcision, was expressing his displeasure in the form of full-throated screams. We though he had phimosis and were searching for a phimosis cure. My leisurely collection run – take a shower, walk the dogs, gather the things on our list, became a mad dash – step into lukewarm water for thirty seconds, throw treats in the direction of the dogs, grab what was handy as quickly as possible, and race back to the hospital. I returned to find my wife and her friend in tears, Tommy fast asleep.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Beth was describing her afternoon to her friend and fellow teacher, who fell right down the emotional hole with her, and soon they were both crying. This is somehow therapeutic for women, because minutes later, the photographer was there, posing our son, and everyone was delighted.
Now that I think about the array of nurses and visitors and lactation consultants and doctors and others, I am convinced of my near-conscious state at the time. Dazed, I participated as much as possible, but my recollection of our time in the hospital is scant at best. Most of our visitors gave us a pass on a number of things, including being present in the conversation and falling asleep during a conversation.
Superbowl Sunday landed on Tommy’s second day of life, so we had a nice, relaxing, guest-free evening. We even sent him to the nursery that night and got three whole hours of uninterrupted sleep, followed by a feeding, and then we all slept together in the room, as a family. I remember cracking my eyes open as the nurse came in to check on us and falling immediately back asleep.
They kicked us out the next day. You see it coming, because the hospital staff never lets you forget it. “You have to go home tomorrow,” they would say, with a pleasant smile. “Stay as long as you like, as long as you’re gone before the afternoon!” “If you leave earlier, you’ll miss rush hour traffic!” Okay, okay, we get it. Out we went, doe-eyed, bewildered.
New parents are sent into the world like this, every day. Beth herds preschoolers for a living, and she paid attention when her parent-friends talked about their babies. I knew nothing. I didn’t want to know. Luckily, having a baby in your home forces you to learn quickly, and Beth can now leave the house for a few hours at a time. Coincidentally, she only calls to check in when I’ve got the boy, screaming bloody murder in one arm, preparing a bottle in the other.
When I discovered we were having a boy, my first reaction was to get my electric train set out and make it go again, even though Tommy may not find it interesting for years, if ever. Playing games with my niece and nephews is a lot of fun. Changing their diapers? Wrong uncle.
Now I live at the whim of a tiny human. We’ve learned a few games. “Where’s daddy?” is apparently not as fun as “Where’s mommy?” Tommy gives out free cuds a lot, which is nice. He poops a lot, too, which isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
I recall watching my friend, Tony, diaper a baby with deft precision, working like a pit crew fighting to keep the lead with four tires to change and twenty laps left in the race. I’m not there yet, but I’m close.
Things got a lot easier when the circumcision healed and the belly button plug fell off. Tommy lays there, arms and legs flailing, while we work to keep everything covered. I like to say things like, “Stop struggling,” and “Get over here,” from Happy Gilmore and Mortal Kombat, respectively, during diaper changes to soothe him.
The first night at home, we had him in his bassinet, asleep, when one of our dogs crashed into the wall. Beth and I shot bolt upright in bed, thinking it was Tommy hitting the floor. This was physically impossible. I walked away unscathed, but Beth pinched a nerve.
Tommy is a bottomless pit. This should be a good thing, but it’s a source of bewilderment. He drinks and drinks. I’ve heard myself saying, “You just drank a full bottle an hour ago.” I check the diaper, we try to get comfortable in a few different positions, and then he chugs another bottle.
For the first few days, the stream of visitors continued, which was great. There’s nothing like friends and family showing up with dinner. It’s also the one time in your life you can get away with falling asleep on the couch with company present.
My sister even came up with my brother-in-law, niece, and nephews for a weekend, which was truly excellent. Beth actually let me play video games with Russell, John, and Luke for hours on end, with hardly a peep of complaint. Maybe I couldn’t hear over the sounds of gunfire and hellspawn.
A few days ago, I admitted to bumping Tommy on the carrier bar when I was putting him into it. Beth immediately admitted to dropping her phone on his head a few days before. I told her that I thought what she did was way worse, to which she informed me that it wasn’t that bad; she’d dropped the phone on her own head a few times to make sure.
So, it’s been two months, and while we’re hardly pros, we do have two months behind us. We got to go out alone for a few hours the other night without Tommy, thanks to her parents. Vaccinations are coming soon, and with the improving weather, we might actually start taking Tommy to public places. It’s a wild and crazy time, people.