Tired


Of course, for her, I suppose it's worth it.

Haven't checked in for quite awhile now. In fact, blogging has taken a back seat to most everything, as my life has been turned upside down by the cute little (currently) brown-eyed girl that's taken my house by storm.

Quick update for regular readers:
Stella's official stats (as of today): 20 3/4 inches long, 8 lbs 9 oz, 16 days old.

Alright, now that that's out of the way...

Man, having a kid is nothing like you could ever expect. I mean, you hear all the stuff your friends with kids say. "Sleep now, because once you have the kid you never will." "Say goodbye to your social life." "It's hard, but it's worth it." "Your life will never be the same."

All stock phrases; each was heard from multiple people. But, despite more-than-fair warning, I entered parenthood almost entirely unprepared. Which is not to say I'm bad at it. I dare say that, so far, I'm pretty good.

Looking back at the whole process of the pregnancy, I can see that the pregnant time can be used for good or evil. A poor use of the preparation is acting like nothing's different, and trying to live your life as close to normal as possible. Sure, normalcy has its place, but a good father-to-be needs to be learning the art of self-sacrifice from the beginning. To prepare for doing your fair share (supposing you care about such things), pregnancy is a great time to learn to think more as a "we" and not as an "I".

So, 10 months was spent in trying to do whatever I could to support my wife. Which is not to say I was perfect, but I put more effort into my marriage in the last 10 months than I had in the last 2 years before that. I spent more time trying to help my wife. I started picking up little things here and there that I knew she wanted (mostly chocolatey things). And I did what I could to reduce the load on my wife so that she could focus on keeping healthy through her pregnancy.

And, for the most part, things came along great. Got the room painted with a month to spare. Got all the furniture constructed. Got the dog to obedience classes to prepare her for a more disciplined existence.

As the moment approached, I started to feel less fearful and more excited to get on with fatherhood. My wife was exactly the opposite, having lost her excitement for the future months and years in the shadow of her fear of the hours of pain and effort of childbirth. She started to publicly hope that the kid would wait just a little bit longer, although she also was mindful of the fact that the longer the wait, the more baby there'd be to deliver.

That was a Catch 22, for sure.

The day came. My wife's labor started at 2am on 10/28/05 as a series of short, erratic, painful twinges in her gut. For the most part, she was able to sleep through them, aware that if she was actually in labor, the hospital part was hours away (most likely) and remembering that our birthing class had discussed the need to take it as easy as possible. She had a pre-scheduled doctor's appointment at 10am, so we went in and learned that, from the looks of things, it was likely we'd be back at the hospital the same night.

By 3pm, that prediction had come to fruition. My wife wasn't quite ready to go yet, but she was certainly close. When we got to the hospital, we spent an hour walking the halls trying to loosen things up. My wife's blood pressure started to elevate, which was just concerning enough to the medical staff that they decided that instead of sending us home, it was time to really encourage the kid to come out. The doctor broke my wife's water, which was still holding intact, and by 6pm the pitosin and the epidural were flowing. By 7, things were starting to happen.

Actual "hard" labor began at about midnight, and after two hours of pushing (and none of the typical TV-style crying, screaming, swearing, or even sweating), my wife delivered our little bundle of joy, Stella.

And, since then, all of my friends' predictions have come true. Sleep is a premium item for us now. My wife still can't sleep when noone is keeping vigil over our sleeping daughter, so for another week or so we are continuing shift work, to allow us more sleep than we'd probably get otherwise. Right now, I'm smack in the middle of my 9pm - 4am shift; my wife will assume her vigil at 4 and let me sleep until 10-ish.

All I can say is thank God for FMLA, and the Oregon equivalent. Thanks to Oregon law, both husbands and wives qualify to take up to 12 weeks of paid (if you've got the hours to cover it) leave from work to celebrate baby. And additional boon is my job, which offers excellent vacation and sick-time benefits, but also provides enough pressure that actually burning that time as it is accumulated is hard to do. Thanks to the way it all works out, I actually had 12 weeks of available sick and vacation time that I could burn (if I wanted), despite taking about 2 weeks of vacation already earlier this year.

Amazing.

So, I've elected to take 8 weeks off to enjoy my baby's first days, as well as to help out my wife with all the stuff to do at home, which gets a little overwhelming after all the sleeplessness compounded by all of the parental stuff that needs to be done.

My initial thoughts on parenthood: It's tough, but it's also fun. Baby's are interesting; when you first have them, you love them simply because you are related to them. You won't have any idea of their personality for weeks or months. You won't get any sort of feedback from them for quite awhile. But, somehow, your love for them grows despite the slave-driving demands that they place on you. Changing diapers is fun. Feeding them is a treat. Trying to get them to sleep is challenging, annoying, and yet fulfilling when you learn a new trick that konks them out faster.

I checked out about 7 library books, thinking I'd get through them during this time. I've started 2, but otherwise I just keep on renewing them, in the hopes that in the next couple of weeks Stella will start sleeping a little more and afford me more time to relax.

I've managed to take in a few movies on TV, though, as well as countless hours of old Seinfelds and other great shows gathered courtesy of Tivo. TV and feedings seem to go hand-in-hand.

Blogging, however, takes more effort than I generally have the energy to put forth. The only reason I'm writing this is a feeling of guilt, combined with a desire to get at least a little bit of info out about the male perspective on pregnancy and childbirth. I'm too tired to write anything really coherent; I suppose this ramble is, however, a fair and accurate representation of the fragmented way in which my mind is working these past couple of weeks.

Hmm. Losing my point. Three and a half more hours on baby duty, and I'm circling the drain. Luckily, I got her to sleep, so maybe I can get a little catnap in...

For all my blog-buddies out there, I'm still alive. Chances are I haven't read anything you've written lately, but I'm sure my Bloglines will prove to be a source of days of enjoyment once I have the time to put into catching up on it. Drop by from time to time; I'll try to be more entertaining next time I post, and I promise I'll stop the late-night tired ramblings...I'm even boring myself.

Thanks for all the great comments and well-wishes; things are great in the Rusty household, and we're all doing super...

Now, where's the couch?