I must have gone through 20+ episodes of the show, “I Shouldn’t Be
Alive” in the past couple of weeks. I think it’s because I feel like
I’ve been dropped in a jungle, with minimal survival skills, little
food, and no sleep. And by “jungle” I mean, parenthood.
You may or may not know this, but they make you go through a series
of hoops in the hospital after the baby is born. You need to
satisfactorily show the staff that you are, indeed, somewhat capable of
taking care of a child. There is zero rest to be had. Once you pass
their tests, they cut you loose. And that’s it. Next thing you know,
you’re home and attempting to figure out this child’s needs all on your
own.
Sure, I’ve not been left for dead on Mount Everest, nor have I had to
spend a month navigating the Amazon while battling starvation and
malaria, but I do have to force myself out of bed every couple of hours,
deny myself showers to take advantage of a nap, and feel somewhat like a
hostage in my own home. Heck, brushing my teeth and eating something
substantial I consider a luxury right now.
The good news is, my son is really cute, and he’s only going to be
this little for a short time. I also try and think of it from his
perspective - it sucks! He had a great thing going for 39 weeks, and
now, he has to learn how to eat, manage sleep without feeling like he’s
falling, and get his temperature taken rectally.
I might feel like we’ve been dropped into a jungle, but we’re
figuring it out, and it helps to have a really great husband, who’s
turning into a really great father.
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