I'm Tired...A Half Year In Reflection

I'm tired. Like really, really tired. My wife and I  haven't slept in six months. Well we have, but not uninterrupted or peaceably anyways. On December 30th my littleman turns six months old. During a time of the year when many are reflecting on the past twelve months, I'd like to take a look at the last six, and so this is a half year in reflection. In a time when many children would be sleeping through the night by now, our little fella' still likes to wake up every two hours on the hour and demands to be fed. It's crazy how our sleep patterns have changed and I would've never guessed six months ago that I would ever get used to sleeping two hours at a time or that I would ever get used to our child's cry. And by getting used to his cry I mean I no longer would rather scrape a rusty cheese grader against my forehead than hear his continuous screech. I've not only gotten used to it, but I can now tell distinct differences in his cries, if he's sleepy, hungry, in pain, or just being a pain. It's quite awesome learning how to understand him, even though rather than talking he has chosen the most annoying method of communication imaginable. To be honest though, my wife has done an amazing job taking care of our littleman and lets me sleep most of the time as she's breastfeeding and I'm not exactly any help in that department. God bless her, I have actually gotten some uninterrupted sleep, quite a bit of it, but I'm fully convinced that those amazing mothers accept that until the kids are out of the house they'll never get another night of continuous sleep. And even though the last six months have flown by in somewhat of a slumber ridden stupor, if I look back and really think, there's a lot of stuff that has happened.

 

It's amazing the many changes I've witnessed in the last six months. Changes in my life, my wife's, and so many changes in our littleman's life as well. And all of these changes took place so quickly. It seems like right when I'm about to get used to something or start developing a new habit or skill, it quickly becomes outdated, ineffective, or just useless. Here I thought I was just getting good at changing diapers and my son decides to learn how to roll over. And it always seems that his greatest desire to wiggle, roll, and kick those legs are when I'm wiping poop off of his backside. It only takes one ill timed roll to start learning how to react on the fly. And that is kinda what being a father up to this point has felt like, learning on the fly, making decisions in the moment, and hoping that it's for the best and that you're not going to break or scar your kid. My kid has transformed from this fragile helpless blob to a strong, bold headed, burst of personality. My wife has transformed into a pro mom and has done a great job at not stopping being a pro wife. It could've been really easy for my wife to completely ignore me and focus only on the baby. I have heard from several friends who felt like their wives abandoned them when their children were born. It can be difficult to balance both of those roles with their different responsibilities. There's a sense of duty in parenthood that makes you feel as if that tiny thing that sorta looks like you is all there is, and that you're willing to burn the world down to the ground to secure it's safety and well being. And amidst the chaos of raising a child I'm trying to do the same as my wife, be a good dad and remember not to neglect being a good husband. I know right after having the kid, everything non baby related got thrown out the window as it was all hands on deck to make sure his introduction to the world went as well as it possibly could have. But now six months later the world still revolves around him, but not at nearly the same pace as it had, and that's a good thing. He laughs now instead of just crying, he's eating some solid foods not just milk, he moves around a lot and I'm not afraid of his head falling off anymore, and so much more.    

There's one thing that all of these changes have in common and that is they are all necessary. Despite whether or not we like change, it is an inevitable and necessary part of life. And when these unexpected or expected, good or bad, fun or not so fun changes take place, the only thing we're in control of is how we let these things affect us. I've had older friends who have raised children already tell me to enjoy each stage of childhood while it lasted. I reluctantly and politely shook my head up and down to be nice as I thought to myself I can't wait till this kid's older and sleeps all night, or can talk to express what he's feeling, or when he would eat solid food so that mommy would stop being his favorite. But even in the six short months that have flown by, sure enough, there have been little stages and I've seen my littleman change in big ways. And believe it or not I even miss some things, like when he first came home from the hospital and couldn't help but to keep his tiny little noggin against my chest rather than throwing his arm into my throat as if he was trying to apply the sleeper hold while he looks around inquisitively. Time passes by so quickly and my kiddo is changing at a rapid pace. And me and the misses has to as well in order to keep up with him.    

So what on earth will the next six months look like?! I have no idea, but I look forward to finding out. Had you asked me to predict what the first six months of fatherhood were going to look like P.B. (Pre Baby) I would've never had guessed it'd be anything like its actually been. Sure I knew that there'd be poopy diapers, restless nights, and plenty of crying but just like with everything in life we're better at predicting what can go wrong than dreaming about the wonderful things that can go right. There's been more unexpected joy in the last six months than I could have ever imagined. Yes I'm tired, sometimes stressed, and constantly being stretched beyond my comfort zone. I mean I never would have used my hand to catch vomit out of an infant's mouth P.B. but when you're a dad, things change. And I just so happen to love the transformation that my family and I am undergoing.  

My Baby Started A Gang War

My baby started a gang war. Well, at least he's starting one. Maybe, that's a little too strong, there's no bloods and crips, no gang colors, and bullets haven't flown just yet. But don't be mistaken, sides are being drawn. Except in this turf battle it's not East Coast versus West Coast, it is my parents versus the in-laws. Now to be honest my parents and the in-laws have been very polite in their limited interactions. But it is an amazing thing, the rights and privileges, your parents and in-laws receive and demand once you have a child. There's a transformation that takes place in switching your view of your parents from being your parent to being your child's grandparent. And there is a delicate balance, much like a turf war, that I as a parent have to be aware of.

It really isn't anything like that, but there is a sense in which attention and time will be fought over. My in-laws live close by in the next town over, and my parents live out of state six hours away. My child is now five months old and so my in-laws have had dibs on spending time with my littleman purely because they're so close. Outside of the occasional visit, my parents really haven't had the opportunity to spend much time with my boy. There's also a difference in how my little guy is viewed by both sets of grandparents. You see, my wife is an only child, and this is our first child making him their first grandchild. The only pride and bond stronger than a mothers is a first time grandmother! And sincerely she's been an amazing help. Now for me, I'm one of four boys and both of my older brothers have children. One has two and the other three. That makes my littleman grandchild number six for my parents. Now I know they love him just as equally as the others, but it's certainly a different experience than my wife's parents are going through. So there has been a pretty good balance...except my parent who were six hours away are now halfway through a move placing them now ten minutes away from us as they've purchased a new home in the same town! Now I'm excited about this, my wife is understandably a little nervous as any wife would be, but I believe my mother-in-law is pretty concerned. Now she's got someone who is honing in on her turf! So is there a way to keep my wife, parents, and parent-in-law all happy?! Maybe...but regardless of the outcome it's going to take some patience on all of our parts and calling a cease fire might also help.

Maybe you've felt or are feeling this struggle with the holidays coming up and trying to manage your relationships and the delicate balance of not hurting anyone's feelings while still trying to enjoy the holidays. In the Adams household we do the "every other" holiday routine. I'm sure many of you have certain traditions or practices. Maybe your family doesn't really do a whole lot for Thanksgiving, but Christmas is your big holiday, or maybe New Year's Eve. No matter what your tradition is, one tradition that is as old as time is this very struggle. Just remember the holidays are an opportunity to grow closer together as a family, even if you feel like pulling your hair out and just taking your wife and kids on a cruise to avoid it all, lol.

When it's all said and done, this stress is induced because you're loved and your family is loved. No gang...I mean family is perfect. Part of the fun is the chaos, the not knowing, and the attempted balance even if you never get it. You can never be loved by too many people. So even though you cannot choose who will love you, be glad they do, even if the way they show you causes some stress. Remember, how you treat your parents is how your child will most likely treat you...no need to make a child take up sides when we're all on the same team. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!

Trying To Hold My Baby Is Like Arm Wrestling A Greased Up Kracken

Trying to hold my baby is like arm wrestling a greased up kracken. I mean, it's like my child wants to be dropped! All the while bungee jumping off of my shoulder using my bottom lip as a tether. It's like he hit the three month mark and entered super squirmy mode. I can remember when I was so excited that he "found his hands." He'd sit their staring at them, moving them, and being entertained. But now he's starting to know how to use his hands...and even his feet! Both him and his hands and feet are conspiring against me, I just know it. When did the days of him being this limp wrapped up burrito looking thing go away. He used to be so calm, so docile...well pterodactyl screaming aside. I mean I used to think the little guy was boring because he didn't do anything, aside from eat, poop, cry, sleep, repeat. But now he's finding his personality, and oh my. Let's just say if he wasn't my son and we met at a party, we probably wouldn't hang out.

When did my son get so strong?! I feel like maybe this kid actually came from Krypton. If this kid's hand/foot eye coordination gets any better I'm going to need riot gear just to change his diaper. I remember when he first came home and how paranoid I was that I might drop him or I'd bump his soft spot and the parent police would come and take him and his little deflated head away. Now I'm starting to think it was all an act. He is way too strong for a baby. People who use that saying, "it's like taking candy from a baby" have obviously never tried to take something from my little guy's kung fu grip. It amazes me how quickly the little guy has changed...and with as clumsy as me and his mom is, that's a good thing. Babies need to be stronger by month two or three as that's when their parents are at their weakest and most uncoordinated due to sleep deprivation. But it really is an encouragement. Like the other day he went to hold the bottle I was feeding him and my mind instantly filled with joy thinking of the day he'd be able to hold the bottle on his own. And yes, this is exciting for more reasons than just finally being able to use two hands for something again.

Just as he's learning and growing in bodily strength he seems to be discovering his different emotions as well. He now knows that there's more to feel other than hungry, sleepy, and furious indignation. This is amazing, but can be exhausting. It wouldn't be as big of an issue if he had an attention span that was longer than a fruit fly, but unfortunately that is not the case. He can be in the middle of laughing and start to cry. He seems to experiencing all of these new emotions one right after another after another. My little bipolar dude. But I think all baby's are at least a little bipolar as they learn and grow. Some days it seems completely random, what he's feeling and how he's expressing himself...like through screaming as loudly as he can. It seems like he could be upset at first then you realize he's just testing his voice. And from what I understand from other parents who have bravely battled on the fields of child rearing, children will always test their limits. Whether the limits they have physically, or the limits you place for them.  

All this to say, he's starting to develop a personality. And I am incredibly grateful. He's no longer this lump of pink play-dough, but a little human-like person. My wife is convinced he's going to be like me...loud, obnoxious, and passionate. If I was anything like this little dude when I was a baby, Mom and Dad, I am so so sorry, lol. He is an amazing kid and I love him dearly. I don't know what exactly I thought fatherhood was going to be like. But it's an amazing thing to get to see this little formless thing take shape, and grow in so many ways. It makes me question if I'm still growing. Is there a point where we as adults become happy with our limits? Do we stop exploring and become content with our understanding of the world? I know I haven't, or at least if I did...this little guy is stretching and growing me, forcing me to look at the world brand new every day just like he is.

(My littleman, Gideon)

I've Never Been Drunk, But I Imagine It's A Lot Like Having A Colicky Baby...

I've never been drunk, but I imagine it's a lot like having a colicky baby. Well, let's hold on a second, back up, and give a little bit of an explanation. So my wife was blessed to go back to work a while back and do part time. She's a nurse and works second shift, 7 pm-7 am, two days a week. We're actually pretty lucky as the two days she works coincides with my days off. This means that two nights a week I'm responsible for giving our son a bath, going through the bed time routine, and help send him off to sweet sweet dream land. It's quite a noble quest, one which a pantheon of parents before me have attempted and, ye verily, have even succeeded. However, while this is the goal, it is hardly ever the actual outcome...enter the drinking analogy.

So our night starts out with two close bros, a bottle of special drink (mommy's home brew), high hopes, and endless possibilities. But by about three hours in we're both crying, one of us has thrown up all over the place, and the other is tired, dazed, confused, and wishing he could start the night all over again, desperately looking towards the morning. It is about 3 am and we're 30 minutes into a second colic crying fit and I'm starting to have a new found respect for my wife who usually deals with this little mean drunk. The night goes by in a massive blur filled with frustration and regret. By the time its all over with we're both passed out wherever our heads happened to land last. I am so, so very weak...and my wife is the strongest woman I know.

I can barely get through a mere two nights, how on earth does my wife manage the other five?! I am quite literally begging for her to tag me out the moment she gets home from work. It's as if I'm a luchador wrestler that's fighting WAY outside of my weight class...which is saying something cause I'm kinda a big guy. Like I said, she's strong. I'm often jealous of how great my wife actually is with our littleman. It seems to be so natural and enjoyable for her. I know she has her struggles, but she carries them with such grace. She plays with him, reads to him, does "tummy time," constantly narrates her activities to include him in what she's doing, and somehow manages to carry him on her hip and successfully accomplish any task including cooking and cleaning single handedly. I on the other hand am lucky to walk straight, remember to feed myself, and constantly test the limits of my bladder while watching our little tyke, Thank God for good moms. My wife and own mom included. The Lord knows us dads could not possibly survive without them, nor could our children.

One of the hardest things about dealing with a difficult baby is not sounding like a jerk or a wimp to other parents who do not know what we're going through. I know I'm not a super star parent. I mean, come on, the name of this blog is "One Bad Dad" but I'm not a weenie. I thank God my son has ten fingers and ten toes and is healthy, intestinal pain aside. Every child has their challenges, or so I assume. Maybe you've been through what I'm going through, or maybe you're one of those evil parents that when they ask me how it's going and I have the strength to answer honestly you brag about how junior is seemingly perfect. Either way we all have our challenges in parenthood...if it's not happened yet, just wait, it'll eventually come. Just remember though, until it does, cut your fellow brothers and sisters in arms a break. And the next time I see you and have a heavy 5 o'clock shadow, stained t-shirt, and staggered demeanor know that it wasn't from a hard night of partying, but of parenting.  

I Would Gladly Live In A Cardboard Box

If it came down to it, I would gladly live in a cardboard box for the rest of my life. And what I mean to say is I would gladly sell all of my possessions and live a meager existence all for the sake of my little boy. I would give up anything for that little guy. I don't know if it's because of some bad examples of parenting in the news lately, but I've been thinking about how much I love my "littleman" and how I'd do anything for him. I certainly have had my struggles as a new dad, especially in regards to dealing with a kid who throws up after every meal and battles colic on a nightly basis. I'm not above calling my kid a punk and getting upset when he cries. I've even put on my shooting range noise canceling ear muffs to deal with his high pitched screams before. But there is a sense of pride and responsibility that I have because of this little human being that sorta kinda looks like me.

There's an overwhelming sense of pride that I've found comes with being a father. Sure it's frustration to the point of wanting to pull your hair out, but the moment he farts and then smiles your heart could almost burst out of your chest with pride. It was a little more difficult when he was fresh out of the womb because he really didn't have that much of a personality to honest. But in his defense, when you're using all of your cognitive function not to be overwhelmed by all of the new things around you, that's everything to a baby, you don't have much more energy to expel on being interesting. However, now that he's a little older than three months his personality is developing, he can actually smile, and even roll over! I never thought I'd be so excited that a little human I made could do something my child hood dog could do by the time he was the same age. But I am, and it's an amazing thing to see this little person develop and grow.

I believe at least once, if not thousands of more times, in the history of fatherhood dads have felt this pride and been motivated to be better men and do whatever they can to better their child's life. But in that process often times fathers have done so at the expense of the relationship they have with their children. As my littleman grows and develops I have a sense of duty to continue to grow and become better myself. This little guy is eventually going to be mobile and start talking. I've really got to up my game and make sure that when he wants to start mirroring me and his mother that we're worth being mirrored. However I need to make sure that I don't get so caught up in the process of self improvement that I forget the point.

I never want to stop becoming a better father and I know there's nothing I wouldn't do for the kiddo. I would die for my little boy. But the challenging part of fatherhood isn't deciding to make a sacrifice just once, but living for him sacrificing every day. It's easy to die for someone, but so much harder to live for them...and that's what we're called to do as fathers. Now maybe you're not like me and been blessed with an amazing father to look back to as an example, but you know however how basic what a decent father looks like. And as long as you're trying, you're doing better than a lot of the fathers out there.

My Nipples Are Broken

My nipples are broken. Well, they're not broken, but they're not exactly designed to do what my baby boy would like them to do. One of the things my wife is passionate about in rearing our little poop goblin is breastfeeding. My wife has tirelessly worked on teaching Gideon how and where to get that nourishing elixir that he so desires every 2 hours like clockwork. They both have grown and learned together and are an awesome team. This is something that was certainly frustrating at the beginning and wasn't easy. But there's been an interesting shift I've experienced as mom and baby have bonded. So here's an example. Early on, maybe up until about week two if the little guy was hungry and fussing for some milk I could take him and walk around, do the daddy dance, and bounce him around to distract him from his little hunger pains until momma was ready to take him. But about week two something clicked in his little baby brain, and that was that he didn't like me any more. It's not that we had irreconcilable differences, it's just he now knew that it was mommy who had what he needed and no amount of dancing with dad was going to distract him from his goal...scream his little developing lungs out until he was in mommy's arms.  

My little boy doesn't like me anymore. While I know that may be a bit of an exaggeration, that's how it felt at first. It's still really early in this parenting game and I'm trying to find a spot and get into the grove of being a good dad. But what on earth can a dad do when he wants his mom?! Well, it didn't take me long to come to a conclusion based on this and a few other things I have observed up to this point. And that is, men and women are different. EPIPHANY!!! And moms and dads are different too! While this may not be groundbreaking news to you, our society and culture has done so much to try and tell us that men and women are equal as in the same. While if we're talking about value, yes we are both equal, if we're talking about importance, YES, we are both equal. But when it comes to form and function, we are definitely not equal, we are not the same. While mothers have gone on to have successful careers and fathers have become stay at home dads, there are very specific roles ingrained into our very genetics that come into play in parenthood. Don't believe me? Let dad try and breastfeed the kid for five minutes, enough said. When it comes to motherhood some things may feel like a mystery and I'm in no way saying it's easy, but there are several things that just come a little more naturally. There are no two ways about it, I am not a mom. I am not built to be a mom physically or mentally, I do not have the amazing endurance or selflessness required, nor the mammary glands for that matter. My wife is an amazing mom, and while that's no surprise, I am amazed at how seamlessly she seemed to transform and take on that challenge. So what's my role in all of this?

I do have a role, I'm a dad...but that doesn't seem to come as naturally. I had a friend tell me several weeks ago that early on in a child's life it's all about the mom and that it's not until about age ten that the child seems to be concerned about dad.  It was at that point that his own children started to come to him to learn and cared about what he had to say. I know he was overstating something he had learned in raising his own children, but it caused me to think. His point was that eventually the role of dad as teacher, protector, provider, and whatever else will come. All kids are different and so this happens at different times in different ways, but eventually my role as dad will become more clear. And hopefully when my kids are ready I'll be there ready too. And even though the right now is fuzzy, I am learning and I am growing even if I don't know what I am just yet.

I'm Becoming My Dad, Singed Eyebrows and All

As I look back through my childhood and think of some of my favorite memories, there is a look on my dad's face that I can distinctly remember. He always looked like he had just stuck his finger in a light socket. My dad was never the most graceful of men, a fact which we as a family blamed on him being left handed, lol. (No offense to you left handed folks) It was a noticeable surprised or frazzled look that seemed to run across his face for most of my childhood. Now excluding those three times during home repairs my father actually did electrocute himself, I never quite understood why he always looked frazzled...until now. I'm becoming my dad, singed eyebrows and all.  

Why was my dad always so frazzled, and seemingly caught off guard all the time? The short answer is, because he had four boys, and the long answer is because he had FOUR BOYS! You see I come from a bit of a blended family. Both of my parents were previously married and had a son with their exes and then they got married and adopted each others' kid as their own. Then twelve years later I came along and a year after that my baby brother. So just as my parents were sending two of their teens off to college their other two kids were just starting elementary school. Now I don't know from experience just yet as my little guys is just four weeks old, but what I've heard from my parents, friends, TV, movies, and just about everything else is that raising a teen is hard work. So that must mean raising two teens is even more difficult, and raising two while also trying to raise two babies is near impossible. I can remember growing up trying to surprise my dad along with my partner in crime, my younger brother Justin. Now we weren't the most nefarious of kids, but from time to time we would try to scare, beat up, wear down, or prank our dad. We thought it was the greatest pass time ever. Throw into the mix that my father worked a hard job at a factory most of my childhood, often leaving the house before daybreak, working overtime, and still pretended to have the energy to play with us when he got home and his surprised looks and fatigue starts to make a whole lot more sense. 

My dad was and still is a great father. But the great thing about having good parents is that they want us to grow and learn from their mistakes so we have better lives than what they have. Every good parent wants better for their children. There are lots of great qualities I'd love to emulate from my father as I start my own family. However there are things that I know I'd like to try differently, simple goofy mistakes my dad made that aren't even worth thinking about. The idea was for me to not have that frazzled look my father had, to be a little more prepared, even for the unexpected. So with planning, preparation, and a little more "perceived wisdom" I began they legendary journey that is fatherhood. And I felt SO prepared for fatherhood...until I actually became a father. And now those frazzled looks and simple mistakes make a whole lot more sense. And I'm making them.

So let me give you just one of several examples that have already occurred in my baby boys short four weeks of life so far. As I mentioned before my dad seemed to be a pro at not being a pro, that is to say my dad had an uncanny knack for making silly mistakes. It's these types of mistakes I find creeping into my life now that my boy is in the picture. So a few weeks ago after getting home from the hospital I realized I needed to mow my yard. It's not a large yard and is not a very difficult task. As I was filling up the push mower my wife popped out of the garage with the baby. She was simply bringing him outside walking around the yard enjoying the nice day. I left the mower walked over and held the baby and talked with my wife a minute before heading back to the mower and started mowing. As I finished the first lap around my front yard I noticed my legs were wet. Baffled I continued pushing forward another couple of feet until I realized that I had left the gas cap off of the mower and it had been spraying out the entire time. Now I'm not necessarily what you'd call a "handy guy" but screwing a gas cap on is certainly in my skill set. So why on earth did I turn into an idiot who forgot to screw on a gas cap? The short answer is I have a newborn and the long answer is I have a NEWBORN! Being a father is a whirlwind of little sleep, long hours, hard work, and just doing the best you can, silly mistakes, frazzled looks and all. And Now I know why my dad drank two pots of coffee a day.

My Wife Gave Birth to A Pterodactyl

So I'm not exactly sure how to say this but, my wife gave birth to a pterodactyl. Well, he might as well have been a pterodactyl between the bluish color, cone head, and blood curdling screech he popped out with. I know about as much about paleontology as I do about babies and the delivery process. And all that after reading and preparing as much as I thought I possibly could. There are no two ways about it, being in the delivery room as a first time father was a very foreign and surreal experience. Over the past couple of weeks my new 9 lb 10 oz son has obliged me with a lot of "extra thinking time" which I so foolishly had been using for sleep in the years before he came on the scene. It is in that time, of rocking this screaming baby back into dream land, that I have been going over his grand entry into this world and my part in the process. There are a few things that I have concluded that I'd like to throw out there and share with you.

I Am Not In Control

First and foremost, I am not in control. There was absolutely nothing in the entire two day delivery process that I was in control of. Not the timing, pain management, actions of the nurses or doctor, how my wife acted, how my mother-in-law acted, nor when visitors would come and go. Every aspect of the entire experience was chaotic.

There we are, my wife's legs up in the stirrups, I'm holding one leg and my mother-in-law is holding the other. And there I am face to face with one of the most disturbing Dr. Jekyll and Mr.Hyde transformations I've ever witnessed. The startled look on my face was soon ripped away by the next contraction and my excitement to do the one thing I'm allowed or even know how to do and that is to tell my wife to breath, as if she'd forget if I didn't tell her. There are so many moving parts and things which I've never experienced and don't know anything about. I am so grateful that I was not in control, because I would have messed everything up. I was happy to let my wife make the decisions and the doctor to do his thing.

Sometimes I Cannot Eliminate Pain In the Lives of Those I Love

I learned something about 7 months into the pregnancy and it became cemented into my mind when my wife went into labor, and that is sometimes I cannot eliminate pain in the lives of those I love. It seemed just about everything started breaking down when my wife became pregnant. From aching ankles, busted backs, and chaffed chests, all building up her strength for the great challenge of child birth.

But it truly was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced, watching the person I love the most hurting. For me, and I feel most men in general our automatic reaction is to "do" everything and anything we can to eliminate that pain or try to change the situation. And there was nothing I could do to take away the pain my wife was experiencing in the delivery room. Part of not being in control is realizing that we often can do little or nothing about the pain those we love are experiencing. All we can do is hurt with them and support them while they go through it. And ice chips, lots of ice chips, apparently that helps too. 

Sometimes Pain Is Not Always A Bad Thing

Despite how rough it is to watch the person you love in pain, sometimes pain is not always a bad thing. All of the pain, grimaced faces made, and tears produced something, someone beautiful, a wonderful baby boy. That pain was productive, and while it may not have felt like that in the moment, it had a purpose. While not all pain obviously has such a wonder and joyous conclusion there is much we can gain through the pain that we go through in life. Lessons are learned, strength is forged, relationships created, and encouraging examples are made to others soon to experience similar circumstances.

We don't only learn from that junk that we go through, but we're able to share those experiences with others and possibly encourage and help them through similar circumstances. That's the greatest thing about the pain, whether good or bad, that we go through. Not everyone's wife is going to birth a pterodactyl, but there is one unifying universal truth about having a baby and that is, epidural or not, it hurts. 

No Amount of Preparation Readied Me for the Unexpected and That's Okay

Books, blogs, articles, family advice, advice from friends, and so much more provided a lot of help and encouragement. But no amount of preparation readied me for the unexpected and I've now learned that's okay. Labor pains aside there was a moment when the doctor was pulling my son out and I felt like he was a magician pulling out a multicolored handkerchief that just kept coming, he was 23 inches long, and the excitement to hold my son nearly exploded out of my chest. Nothing and I mean NOTHING prepared me for the moment I first saw my son in my arms.

The same can be said about the first night he wouldn't stop crying...two feedings, three unnecessarily changed diapers, and extra burping all doing nothing. Children, or in my case child, as I've only got one is an incredible amount of work. Anyone who says that it's easy, natural, or fun in the beginning is either a bold faced liar or on drugs. But seriously, every child is different and my boy Gideon is an extraordinary blessing and already a part of my heart. Also, watching my wife not only birth, but raise this kid three weeks into this adventure called parenthood has impressed me to no end. She is amazing. Part of the joy of life is being caught off guard with the unexpected and finding the joy in every moment.  With all that being said, he may be a pterodactyl, but he's my pterodactyl.