I'll start shortly after where I left off last time. I'll start with...
Labor
It's actually a good place to start, because I don't think Kathryn mentioned much about it in her blog. Can't say I blame her, it was hard. Correction - labor was crazy. We did the Bradley method and took the class, so we were prepared, but we sure weren't ready, if there's a makeable distinction there. I think God's set birth up so that you're never quite ready - he's wrapped up the risks and wonders so tightly in there that new parents can't help but have an experience that will forever be deeply imprinted on their brains and hearts.
To spare you too much unpleasant detail, I'll just give you a representative sampling of some of what was going through my head throughout it all, in some semblance of chronological order:
-"I sure hope she lets me sleep a little longer, I've sure got a massive headache."
-"She says this is it, and she's in way more pain than Saturday... hmm, this is probably it."
-"I hate running around the house so much in the 2 minute window we have between the end of one contraction and the start of another, but I've got to get all this stuff ready."
-"All she wants me to do is rub this one spot on her back. What about this part of her back, doesn't it... okay, okay, I'm rubbing that spot!"
-"The timing's there, the intensity's there - let's get to the hospital."
-"You want me to park the car now?"
-"So is this our nurse? Couldn't we find one a little friendlier?"
-"6 cm - that's it?"
-time passes
-"6 cm still? Okay doc, if you have to break the water artificially to help us, I suppose that's what should happen."
-"Should Kathryn really be running around the room right now? Maybe this is transition."
-"Wow, her back has been hurting non-stop. This is a mess."
-"I'm sure glad my headache is gone, otherwise I'd be a mess."
-"Okay, good - 9 cm. After how hard that last hour's been, I don't think she could take much more of this."
-"Wow, she wants to push. Is this happening already?"
-"Damn it, nurse, stop playing with your scanner gun and check her again!"
-"Yes, she wants to be checked, just like I told you three times already."
-"It's pushing time!"
-"Still pushing!"
-"Lots of pushing..."
-"Poor Kathryn, she's working so hard and baby's still not that close."
-"We can see a little of the head!"
-"Hmm, we've been seeing that much of his head for a while now."
-"Good grief, this is so much blood. How did none of those horrible videos show this much blood?"
-"Doc's cutting her. This sucks. But I guess it's that or something much worse."
-"You can do it Kathryn, you're so close!"
-"Oh my gosh, there he is!"
-"Sorry, let me try cutting that cord again, it's so rubbery!"
-"Wow, Ewan calmed down just from my voice!"
-"Ah, finally Kathryn gets to hold him. Too bad she can only see a little out of one eye."
The first night
It was wonderful holding Ewan the first day. At the end of it, after a good bit of passing him around to all the grandparents, uncles and aunts of various generations, Kathryn and I were afforded time alone in the recovery room, just us and our baby. Having gotten a caffeine boost late in the afternoon, I was able to hold him while Kathryn caught some well-earned shuteye. Joseph wept. I just sat there and basked in the feeling that the Lord was just washing away old dust and dirt and making a new start. Not just was Ewan experiencing new life, I was a full recipient of it, too. And it was one of those rare moments in life where my feeling of it initiated my knowing of it. Usually I let my brain or my body take the lead, but this time it was my heart. So I cried. It was wonderful.
Who's afraid of a little poop?
Everywhere?
Not I, at least, not any longer. Despite the very large number of our friends with young children, and our regular rotation through the church nursery, I had managed to remain a novice at diapering. I wouldn't claim the title of expert just yet, but I've got the hang of it for sure now. And I have most certainly been initiated into the ranks of those who can say, with absolute candor: who's afraid of a little poop? Or: oh that? just a little poop, no big deal - it'll wash out. At times I'm even a little excited about poop, but just at the times when poop means Ewan's tummy is no longer hurting him.
Kathryn loves her Ewan
This might be one of the greatest joys of new parenthood, seeing my wife fall in love with our baby. It's both surprising and not at all surprising at the same time to me. I had every confidence in her that she'd be a wonderful mommy, but I really had no idea what she would look like in that role. She consistently remarks about how cute he is, and the sincerity of her affection isn't mitigated by her fatigue or headaches. She's head over heels, and what can I say? She's got great taste in babies.
It's gradual
Seeing as my last blog post was about anticipating how much life would change and how far upside-down my world would flip, what strikes me more about this period in my life is less how different it feels than how gradual monumental change can be. Sure, some monumental change can happen overnight, but surprisingly, having a baby doesn't feel that way to me. We've been eased into it to a large degree. It's when I start thinking about what having my own son will ultimately mean that I get overwhelmed at the thought of all that has to happen and how unready I am for all of it. But he can't read yet - so I don't have to worry about schooling. He can't run yet, so I don't have to worry about sporting. He hasn't even really realized he has arms yet - so we've got time. I'm sure some personalities are such that some people would use this time to figure all that stuff out, but for now, it just seems right to take one thing at a time and make the most of this sweet time in Ewan's life.
Even the disciples who swiftly and suddenly left their day-jobs and everything else that was their security at the time still had to follow Jesus the same way anyone else would - by putting one foot in front of the other. Not to put the how of following him on some kind of pedestal above the why or the who, but sometimes it's God's grace to provide me the realization that all that's going to be required of me isn't necessarily required of me all at once. And not that I'm holding anything back from him about how I might follow him in raising my son, but he'll provide it when I need it.
More to come
I'll try not to be such a stranger, interwebs and loyal reader(s). Since this is by no means a near-complete representation of even the highlights of being a daddy so far, I'll leave it to another time to give you more of the "inside poop", as one book we've received lately refers to it. As I sign off, I'll leave you with a fatherly blessing, which you can interpret into your life as you can reasonably metaphorically justify:
May all your diapers be snug, and may all your pacifiers be clean.
