Let’s get something straight first. I love my baby. Holding your firstborn in your arms is a feeling unlike any other. You instantly know that you’ll love, care for and coo over this creature for the rest of your life.
Naturally, your firstborn is beautiful beyond all reasonable expectations; has a burgeoning level of intelligence that suggests a future Nobel prize or business empire; finds most of what you do funny, leading you to believe you’ll have the best parent/child relationship since Mrs Shakespeare said ‘It’s a boy!’ and thrashes around in a manner only seen by legendary athletes, world cup winners or Madonna backing singers.
I know it’s technically possible to love your baby in a way that doesn’t border on insanity, but I fear most of us fail to even try, choosing the ‘isn’t she perfect’ option every time. By the way, I have no idea if this also applies to second, third, fifteenth born etc., maybe it has to.
Anyway, it’s been 3 weeks since we began Project Baby Beno, code named Phoebe, and there’s something that’s starting to become apparent that most of the books seem to miss out. Looking after the little shit/piss/wind/milk bag is hard! Keeping her happy is hard! Feeding times are hard! Finding time to look after your own stupid needs is hard! Interacting with other humans having been up half the night is hard! And the little sucker spends most of her time asleep!
If governments want to cut down teenage pregnancy, they should develop a phone app that emits a loud screaming baby alarm at random times during the day or night. Your cancel options would be ‘Feed, Change, Rock’ which you may choose in any order and only occasionally should these buttons actually work (a bit like most apps then).
I now understand that look that other dads gave me when they heard about our impending bundle of joy. The one that sort of said ‘Good luck buddy, you’ll need it! I can’t say much more than this for fear of incurring the wrath of my broody partner, but hey, you have my deepest sympathy.’
It seems like any dad brave enough to venture onto this territory are at risk of being called uncaring or opening up a rift with mum that will one day lead to a permanent separation (most of these dads are no longer with their firstborn’s mum, by the way). To anyone thinking that about me I say: see paragraph one, although I will admit that there is the possibility that, far from being the ideal family unit for bringing up a child, the baby’s arrival and the pressures it brings may be responsible for breaking the unit up.
Well sod that. To help you get to grips with your life/nappy changing event, here’s a few lessons learnt the hard way: Lessons from Project Baby Beno: Part Two
For the record, we are happy to report that Baby Beno is receiving sufficient milk input, output levels are as pungent as expected and sleep deprivation settings at normal.
Bless!
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