On Becoming a Dad

As I start to type this, Aila is lying on her Baby Einstein play mat, gurgling and cooing; presumably at the array of flashing lights, dangling ocean life and the (admittedly) soothing music tracks. I know that she is happy from her sounds: "Nnn-GAH!" and "mgoo," are just two of her now-common happy emissions. It was just three weeks ago when Aila, Jenne and I began to communicate. Before then, wild screams of discontent were all we had to guess which of three areas of discomfort Aila was experiencing. Eat; sleep; poop; repeat has now become familiar, comfortable and-dare I say-a joy in our home. It is not possible to explain all the emotions of being a father, only the moments that create the emotions.

The first month of Aila's life was full of screaming, tears, sleepless nights and stress-by all of us. We were all completely overwhelmed with keeping our little girl alive, healthy, warm and happy. Of course it wasn't easy; no one says it is. After experiencing it and looking back at the past three months, I can vouch for the idea that the first weeks of an infant's life are "the 4th trimester." Aila was about as unprepared to be in this world as her mom and dad were to have her here. Vaginal birth did not happen; breast feeding did not happen; regular sleeping, eating and pooping did not happen; painful gas happened; constipation happened...

The initial endorphine high of having a baby lasts about two weeks. It has to--it keeps you awake. The few weeks after that I kept worrying about the wasted money on all the baby stuff we bought that we weren't going to use; (breast pump, breast-feeding pillow, expensive formula causing gas, Target-brand formula causing constipation, etc.) I thought a little about how we couldn't go to movies or crowded restaurants with Aila; I thought about how we won't see our friends without kids as much as we used to; I worried about how Gandhi would adjust to life with a little sister; I just plain worried about everything.

Although it was stressful on all three of us, Jenne and I both kept as calm as we could, and I think we only snapped on each other two or three times (all times were my doing, I'm pretty sure). We tried to keep it together; to focus on staying positive for the sake of our baby. Jenne was a rock during the nights of never-ending screaming, taking over when my stress level got too high. She maintains a calmness that I can never match, and can almost always sooth Aila into a deep slumber. Even when I would try to relieve Jenne from the "mom" duties for the night, Jenne would take over when I would get too frustrated to continue to try to get Aila to stay asleep. It sounds silly, but I just couldn't handle moving a sleeping baby from my arms to her crib without waking her up and screaming. It drove me nuts that I couldn't do it. Jenne, however, is a natural.

What Jenne didn't tell me, was that even though she was so adept at taking care of Aila, and how wonderfully she seemed to be healing and recuperating, she was falling apart on the inside. I knew Jenne was at risk of depression, and even though I didn't know the extent of Jenne's Post-Partum Depression, it was apparent after only a few days that my two-week Paternity Leave would be only a fraction of time Jenne needed me around. I filed for an extra eight weeks of leave; it was the single-best decision I have made in my life. After a few more weeks, once Jenne got some help and Aila and Jenne fell into a regular schedule, Jenne started feeling better. I can honestly say that, as long as I have known her, Jenne has never been happier.

I still worry about things; I'm a parent now. I don't worry about Jenne any more. I don't worry about money, I don't worry about Gandhi and I don't worry about movies or restaurants. I worry about what the world will be like in twenty years; how mean girls are to each other; how much more pressure there is on women, compared to men; if Aila will have a happy adolescence, or if she'll grow to resent me for all my embarrassing moments (of which I plan to have many)...

Our life is delightful though. My friend Graham dared me to kiss my baby too much. I'm still working on that dare, even after I landed a kiss at the exact moment Aila spurted out some unwanted formula. I simply smiled, wiped my beard and kissed her again. I learned quickly to wait to change the diaper when Aila starts grunting and turning red. I jumped the gun a few weeks ago, and right as I got her clean, Aila shotgun-sprayed her final push against the wall and closet door. Again, all I could do was smile and laugh (and tell her how impressed I was with the distance).

I spent my afternoon talking to Aila about how Gandhi is going to be her first best friend and explaining to her how I used to only listen to a band called Megadeth, but now I only listen to a band called The Black Crowes. I carried Aila around in the Baby Bjorn for an hour today, trying to hold her hand while I folded her laundry. This morning we took a nap together (Mom is taking a nap with her now). I love to show her how to use the computer; to explain how Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath are both credited in the origination of heavy metal; to tell her about everything. She is always happy, smiling and listening.

Aila smiles the most while I change her diapers, but she needs me most when she is tired and needs me to hold her while she falls asleep. If I try to put her down before she is asleep--before she feels safe and comfortable--she screams until I pick her up and cradle her; she can't sleep without me holding her. And that's really the greatest part about being a dad; the feeling I can't explain to people without kids: the feeling of knowing exactly how much she needs me.