Do
you have a new baby? Congratulations! Do you have
one or more small -people running amuck in your home?
How wonderful. Does that home now more closely resemble
a bomb crater than it does a dwelling place fit for
human beings? Are you picking your way through the
debris—the rubble of strollers, bottles, dirty
clothes, and talking plastic gizmos—that now
litters your domestic landscape?
Welcome
to the foxhole, friend. Here’s a helmet.
We know the feeling. The three (make that six) of
us have endured seven major diaper-bomb assaults in
the last five years and lived to tell the tale. Parenthood
changed us, and our relationships, in the most unexpected
ways. This is what they meant with the whole for better
or for worse business at our weddings. Parenthood
fills us with awe and humility and gratitude. It is
also a soggy, uncomfortable, life-altering trial by
fire. Babies are the great levelers. Like a drill
sergeant who tears down his weak new recruits so he
can rebuild them into soldiers, babies break us down
and rebuild us into parents. They flatten everything
in sight, and then make us better, stronger, and hopefully,
wiser than we were before.
The
Paradoxical Passage to Parenthood
It’s
the ultimate paradox, having a baby. It is at once
the happiest, most breathtaking moment of our lives
and the biggest mess we have ever gotten ourselves
into (and been responsible for cleaning up).
The
Best of Times
Once
that baby is placed in our arms, we pass over to the
other side. Becoming a parent is, without parallel,
the single most beautiful moment in life (even if
we are too busy throwing up, cursing, fainting, or
just enjoying the drugs to notice at the time). We
know that our lives will be richer because of this
little person. We can feel it in an instant. And we
can never go back.
“It’s
amazing how quickly the life before your baby fades.
I think it took about two weeks. Then I couldn’t
imagine life without her.”
—Amy, married 3 years, 1 kid
The
Worst of Times
It’s
so wonderful, but at the same time, new parents can
feel afraid, confused, and sometimes, downright miserable.
How is it possible to stand there at the side of the
crib, silently watching the rise and fall of your
baby’s breathing, and feel such extreme, and
diametrically opposed, emotions—pure joy and
sheer terror—rise within you? How is it possible
to share moments like these with your spouse and think,
“Look at this miracle we have created together!”
and “You’re nice and all, but you’re
driving me crazy,” within the same synaptic
flash?
We
feel dazed, confused, and even demented. We are shell-shocked.
We are wholly unprepared and painfully ill-equipped.
It doesn’t matter how many classes we attend.
It doesn’t matter how many books we read (in
fact, in hindsight, most of them are a colossal waste
of time and money). We are not ready. We never will
be. Nothing prepares us for the baby torpedo.
Stage
One: The Twilight Zone
This
period is short, but it can be savage.
The
Fear
We’re
amazed when they actually let us leave the hospital
with little more than a shiny new car seat to show
our readiness for parenthood. No certificate. No license.
No nothing. Can’t they see we don’t know
what we’re doing? Somehow, we manage to get
home with no major casualties, but the minute we leave
the hospital and its fleet of medical staff, The Fear
sets in. We look with horror at each other and whisper,
“I don’t think we’re going to be
able to do this.”
We
start our long vigil of “just checking to make
sure the baby is breathing.” Our fears range
from the rational to the irrational. Stacie, worried
that her cats would suffocate the baby, strung elaborate
mosquito nets over the crib (nets that Cathy bought
for her…the fear is contagious). Julia cataloged
every input and output; such was her angst that her
baby was not eating enough. For a while, she was even
afraid to leave the house. When kindly neighbors asked
her husband, Gordon, how she was doing, “Hard
to say…” was his reply. Men are just as
scared as women, though. Cathy’s husband, Mike,
admitted he harbored dark fears about baby snatchers.
The
Parade
Many
-people get a soft landing into parenthood, as friends
and grandparents line up to get a piece of the action.
Hungry? Here comes a parade of -people with hot meals.
Tired? Just give little Sweetpea to Grandma and take
a nap. Clueless? There’s someone within shouting
distance who can cast some knowledge on the matter
at hand. How about a golf round for the proud new
Dad? Here’s Grandpa with his set of clubs. It’s
no big deal because, hey, Grandma is there to pick
up the slack.
Unfortunately,
the parade doesn’t last long. Most of us are
struck with abject terror when the grandparents and
other supporting players leave. We are petrified at
the thought of taking care of a newborn without backup.
“My mother-in-law was with us for a -couple
of weeks and, yes, I was relieved to see the back
of her. But when I actually saw the taillights of
her car, I thought, ‘Wow, no one in this house
has raised a kid before.’”
—Gabriel, married 5 years, 2 kids
You
Will Never Sleep Again
We
hear rumors before the baby arrives about the impact
of sleep deprivation, but no one can prepare us for
this kind of pain and suffering. As Gordon put it,
“In many countries, sleep deprivation is used
as a form of torture.” Continuous sleep deprivation
can make the most sane, level-headed -people irritable,
irrational, or just plain crazy. We all turn into
zombies. It is a cruel irony that we are expected
to deal with one of the most difficult challenges
of our lives on a wing and a prayer and a thirty-minute
nap. Couldn’t Mother Nature have arranged things
a little bit better.
“I was so tired I actually tried to breastfeed
Bob’s arm one night.”
—Louise, married 4 years, 1 kid (FYI: Bob
is her husband, not her baby.)
The Cluelessness
Our
general cluelessness compounds the fear. We really
and truly don’t know what we’re doing.
How could we?
- “I thought it would be easier to take
care of a baby than a new puppy. I figured, hey,
at least you can put a diaper on a baby.”—Margaret,
married 5 years, 1 kid
- “I thought the baby would be born with
teeth. How else was it supposed to eat?”—Alex,
married 3 years, 2 kids
- “I asked the nurse at the hospital, ‘How
will I know when the baby is hungry?’”—Steve,
married 8 years, 3 kids
- “I said to my husband, ‘Gosh, since
Nina and Brian had little Natalie, they seem to
be bickering all the time, even in front of us.
I’m glad that won’t happen to you
and me, Honey, because we communicate so well.
. . .'”
—Bethany, married 6 years, 2 kids
First
Runner-Up in the Cluelessness Category: Gordon, who,
during a three-month hiatus between jobs, suggested
that he and Julia spend that time taking a backpacking
trip through Asia with their fourteen-month-old in
tow. “We’re really lame if we don’t
take advantage of this time off. Why can’t we
be more adventurous?”
And
the Booby Prize goes to: Cathy and Mike, who actually
forgot, temporarily, that they had a baby:
“One Friday night, a -couple of hours
after I’d put our two-month-old, Kate, to bed,
Mike asked me if I wanted to go get a video. ‘Great
idea,’ I said. We both got in the car and drove
the less than five minutes to the video store. As
I got out, I suddenly remembered that (a) we had a
baby and (b) we had left that baby at home. I was
in a blind panic and close to tears. How could I have
forgotten about Kate? Mike, however, thought that
we should still get a video. ‘It’s not
like she can get out of the crib and we’re already
right here… ’ I just left him there and
high-tailed it back to the house. Of course she was
still asleep and oblivious to our supreme negligence.”
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