Let’s be honest: the first few weeks with a newborn is strange. You’ve waited nine months imagining your new life ahead of you, and somewhere in that wonder world fantasy of flowers and rainbows was your doe-eyed newborn child sitting calm as a monk in a Moses basket. And every time you looked at her, you couldn’t imagine loving anything more.
The reality of this fantasy world is your house is a mess, your newborn seems to be forever crying, and that doe-eyed look is really just a blank stare that says, “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
Hi. My name is HypeDad and it’s been two months since my last post.
Yes, this is the introduction to the erratic blogger’s therapy group. It’s been two months since my last post, which officially makes me the spasmodic blogger I said I’d never become. Then again, I said a lot things before becoming a father. Funny how parenthood changes all of that.
It’s no coincidence my blogging absence aligns with the birth of our first child. I’ve been busy parenting, which I’ve learned is not dissimilar to Fight Club.
Labor is a shadowy figure. For months, it peers in your windows at night. It hides under your bed and in the closet. It’s faceless and unknowable. At times your imagination gets the best of you and your fictitious labor suddenly becomes some torturous scene from the movie Saw. And I’m just a guy. I’m not doing the heavy lifting. I can’t imagine the kinds of horrors women dream up.