“Adam, wake up.” These words echo through billowing clouds, miles above.
Like an 8-year old trying to lift the garage door, I strain to raise an eyelid. I recognize the blurry figure leaning over me – my over-tired, depleted wife, Laura. She takes on more than I care to ponder. I see her drowning in an ocean of unrelenting waves, yet I find myself in an “every man for him/herself” mode. I miss her: At this point, we’re just trying to get through each day while dropping as few balls as possible. – At the very least, not dropping any babies.
Laura’s voice was rushed. “First of all, Happy Birthday. Secondly, Kali is awake and hysterically crying in her crib. I have to leave, but Ananda is fast asleep – She should be good for a couple of hours. Bye.”
Not an ideal way to wake up on my 40th Birthday after yet another sub 5-hour sleep. But with two kids under 18 months, ideals have left the building – along with a Birthday wish of sleeping in. I guess that wish needs to be saved for Christmas – when I’ll ask a man dressed in fantasy for unrealistic presents.
Happy Birthday to me
With eyes half shut, I make my way to Kali’s room. Tears running down her precious face, screaming – standing at the near corner of her crib, desperately hoping to be saved from her isolation.
“Hi baby. Come here.”
Ananda plays the sleeping game much better than Kali
I pick her up, place her on the carpet, and drop to the floor like sack of potatoes. Yes, her diaper needs to be changed, but my hopes are set on a successful game of, “you play with your toys while daddy plays dead.”
…“Da-da, da-da”.
I’m done. Her voice is the sweetest sound I know. And when it mutters “da-da”, I lose all ability to tend to my own needs.
I start carrying her downstairs to change and feed her, but am stopped dead in my tracks as our 10 week old, Ananda, decides she is ravenously hungry. Her cry sounds like she is being tortured – it rips through my body and pierces my brain. Dammit. So much for the 2-hour window of one-on-one while I restore consciousness. I feel like Bruce Lee taking on hundreds of ninjas while tending to both girls on my own. Only, I’m Woody Allen in that scene – not Bruce Lee.
My attacking ninjas, Kali and Ananda
Rerouting.
I carry both girls downstairs. How does Laura do this everyday? Both girls need to changed, fed, coddled, and played with. I love my babies, but this job terrifies me.
I admit I am not cut out for caring for a baby mired in the life-support stage. Rationally, I understand if a newborn is upset, she either needs to be fed, burped, changed, or sleep. Sounds simple. But once she gets upset, I panic. It’s a terrible feeling. Simultaneously tending to an 18 month old just raises the stakes – and the anxiety.
I’m scrambling – Finding it very hard to feel any birthday joy. After 2 hours, the storm turns into a tsunami as Kali begins melting down.
Wait. I know this. A melt down 2 hours after Kali gets up means she’s ready for her nap. I run her upstairs. Chuck her in the crib. Blow her a kiss. And I’m out. No time for sweet goodbyes sending her into a peaceful reverie. ‘This is the real world, Kali; Man up and fall asleep.’
Back to Ananda – who is restlessly moaning, on the verge of a full-blown breakdown, herself.
Pacifier? No dice. Hungry? Nope – actually spitting up all over me as a result of my overzealous feeding attempts to calm her.
I curse Laura for leaving me in this situation on my Birthday.
I get lost in my head, which is spewing molten lava in the form of disparaging thoughts.
“Come on Gries, be present. Enjoy your Birthday, god dammit!”
Our little, “Nandi”
Finally, I look down at Ananda. She is nestled in my arms. Big blue eyes staring up at me – through me. Can she see my troubled soul? Am I crazy? Her eyes tell me everything is ok. She gives me her signature “Nandi” smile.
My heart twinges. It sends an arrow directly into both eyes. Tears swell. We get lost staring at each other – connecting like never before.
Her eyelids grow heavy. Fluttering. Lips slightly parted with a faint hint of her dimpled grin. She’s an angel… And she’s out.
The house stands still. My babies are pictures of bliss. I am filled with more love than I know what to do with. And just like that, reality shifts.
I’ve never been one to place any importance on age. But I have to admit it was hard to ignore the big 4-0 as it crept towards me. In the never-ending cycles of life, I find myself in a transitional phase as I turn 40: Not quite the place I wanted to be while passing a societally pressured mile marker.
It’s funny how I needed to get caught in a ninja attack to reconnect with the perspective showing me the abundance and love in my life. The gratitude emanating from that perspective is the greatest gift of all.
Happy Birthday to me