“Okay, are we ready to do this?”, they ask as they wheel her out of the room.
I hurriedly slip on the sterile coveralls and try to act normal as I follow my wife and a team of surgeons to the operating room. The hallway seems to last an eternity and my mind is racing through potential scenarios — what if she isn’t breathing, what if there are complications, what if something…anything…goes wrong? Rachel grabs my hand and brings me back to Earth. We lock eyes and she silently tells me everything will be okay. This is happening, I think to myself, we’re about to be parents!
They wheel her through a pair of intimidating doors with a tiny window and tell me to wait outside while they make preparations. I lower my head between my knees and remind my chest to breathe, remind my heart to slow down, remind my thoughts to pace themselves. Rachel catches my eye through the tiny window and everything comes back into focus.
After a lifetime of nervous knee bouncing and some feeble attempts to distract myself by inspecting medical equipment in the hallway, the daunting doors finally swing open.
“We’re ready to start. Let’s deliver this baby.”
Everything from that point is a blur of intense emotions and holding Rachel’s hand was probably the only thing that kept me from passing out, but I do remember one thing — when I heard that little cry for the first time, my heart grew three sizes.
Having a daughter has taught me a lot of things. It has taught me that emotions are normal and should be shared. It has taught me that communication comes in more shapes than words. It has also taught me that uncertainty breeds patient, thoughtful consideration. But most of all, it has taught me that we don’t know what we’re doing, and that’s okay.
Our daughter is barely three weeks old, and the amount of times I’ve already said “Ugh, I don’t understand” has been comical. Being a first-time parent is (really) frustrating, (incredibly) tiring, but (extraordinarily) rewarding. I often catch myself just staring into her eyes during the quiet moments — when the birds have just awoken and the sun casts blue light across the silent, empty 4 AM outside — no one else is awake. It’s just me and this little human, fresh from heaven. She glances around at the shadows on the ceiling and then her eyes stop on mine. That moment means everything, and it gets me through the hard times.
Speaking of hard times…
Why is she grunting, and why is her face red? Why won’t she take this perfectly good pacifier? Why isn’t my sweet lullaby helping? Doesn’t she see that I’m trying my best?! Ugh ugh ugggghhhhh!
Emotions are normal and should be shared
Let’s go back in time for a moment. Rachel was 17 weeks pregnant and her parents were visiting for Christmas break. We’d just tried Beat Saber on the Oculus Quest for the first time and had played it all night — we were having so much fun! I had stayed up to try a new video game I’d gotten for Christmas and heard Rachel call for me from the other room. I thought at first that she just wanted me to come to bed, but she sounded different. She sounded distressed.
I hurried in and tried not to panic — she was lying on the floor, I saw a lot of blood, it looked like she had passed out. 7 minutes later we were in an ambulance to the ER…we thought we’d lost our baby and we were both completely unhinged.
It was labeled as a placental abruption with significant blood loss, but an ultrasound showed that our baby was still in there. We were both in awe, we shed a lot of tears, and I didn’t even think about exhaling until we reached week 24 — the age of viability.
At 37 weeks, I heard that little cry for the first time. She was healthy, Rachel was healthy, everything was great. But as we got settled into our hospital room I recognized something terrifying. I had been so caught up in ensuring the pregnancy made it to full-term that I had forgotten to prepare for when our daughter had arrived.
The “Baby Blues” hit me hard.
I was an anxious (slightly depressed) mess for the first week. And truthfully, I still struggle with anxious moments today. But by being open and honest with my friends and family, and by researching a myriad of resources I’ve recognized that emotions are real and there should be no reason for me or any other dad to shy away from them. I’m learning to embrace sensitivity and encourage other dads to hurdle the mainstream macho nonsense and actually share your feelings with those you care about. It will strengthen your sense of self, fortify friendships, and invigorate intimacy with your spouse. It’s made a remarkable impact on my life and for our relationship.
Communication comes in more shapes than words
Newborns wake up all of the time. Whether we like it or not, our newborn girl is back at it every two or three hours. This means we’re tired, and when we’re tired it’s more difficult to see the world through logical lenses. I’ve found myself wondering if I’m doing everything wrong, and most times that’s probably been true. But I’ve started recognizing the unique ways our little girl tries to communicate with us.
My mom has a theory that babies can’t talk because they still know too much about heaven. Whatever the reason, it remains a fact that babies have to communicate in other ways. The most common method is that sound that gave me so much joy in that operating room. Babies know how to cry.
However, if you look for them, the subtlest of cues can mean a world of difference. And these cues may be different for each child but my daughter is starting to teach me her subtle methods of communication. Facial expressions, leg scrunches, back arches and even the lack of sound or movement have signaled crucial information that helps me understand (even just slightly) what she’s trying to accomplish or what she might need.
Recognizing these delicate cues has helped us feel so much more connected to our daughter. And we continue to learn more every day.
Uncertainty breeds patient, thoughtful consideration
If anything is constant, it’s change. Once you feel like you have things figured out, something new comes along and shows you what else you don’t know. This has been frustrating as a new dad. We’ll have a series of two or three good midnight feeding sessions and begin to feel like we have it figured out. Then she’ll throw us a curveball and come completely unglued right as I thought she was drifting off to sleep…uhmm, what just happened…I’ll think to myself as I’m frantically trying to rock her back to sleep. As she continues to wail, I’ll find myself getting frustrated and trying to “reason” with a human who’s been alive for less than a month.
But then, if I take a second to close my eyes, take a deep breath and think, it hits me that our little girl is acting this way because something isn’t quite right. Something needs attention. So instead of getting more frustrated, I’m trying to learn how to take a step back and empathize with how she might be feeling or what might be causing her to become upset. It’s not a reflection of bad parenting, it’s a collaborative learning process.
We don’t know what we’re doing, and that’s okay
My oldest brother has four kids, one is a teenager. I called him one day and said, “I don’t know what I’m doing…” He kinda chuckled and responded, “No one really knows what they’re doing. But as long as you love your daughter, you’ll learn more about each other. Give it time, keep trying to learn what she’s telling you.” He then casually added, “plus, sometimes you might think they need a diaper change or more food but they’re actually crying because their back itches or something silly.”
That stuck with me — we might being doing everything on the “checklist” (diaper changing, feeding, burping, swaddling, white noise, etc) but maybe her toes are cold, or maybe she’s just not ready to fall asleep yet. Maybe she just wants to snuggle.
My other brother called me to check-in and after some much-needed encouragement, he said, “being a Dad is one of the hardest things you’ll do, but it’s also the most rewarding.” He then recounted some of his very favorite memories, all of which included special moments with his three adorable children.
He’s totally right — parenting is difficult, that shouldn’t be sugar-coated. And it’s true, we don’t know what we’re doing. But we’re working on it together.
I’m learning more about empathy and patience, and recognizing that selfless love can go a long way. And while it’s sometimes anxiety-inducing and most-of-the-time frustrating and all-the-time tiring, I’m confident that we’ll be okay.
In just three weeks, being a Dad has already taught me a lot of things. I’m excited that she’s finally here, and I’m excited to continue learning together as a family.
