My, How Time Flies

It has been seven whole days since our baby son came into this world (actually, seven days, 22 hours, and 6 minutes, but who's counting?!). I was reminded today.......no, let me rephrase--I was harassed today--by a good friend, Leah's co-worker, and co-member of the "New Parent" club (That's you, Stacy!) for not updating since we got home. Geez! This readership is a tough crowd! : ) It's just that we got home Wednesday, and Thursday was Thanksgiving, and this weekend, well, we........forget it. Here I am, in front of the keyboard, and I'm trying to make up for lost time. Pardon me while I go stare at my offspring and ponder what I'd give to know what he's thinking.

First things first--sleep. Everyone ALWAYS wants to know about sleep. I guess I'm as guilty as any--I've asked many a person with a new baby something corny like, "So, how's it feel to not have any sleep?" as if I was the first person to ask them that. But we're doing alright in that area. Leah has been somewhat unsuccessful breastfeeding, but has managed to pump some, so the end result has been that Nicholas eats with a bottle, all of the time. Which means that Mom and Dad can tag-team the middle-o'-the-night feedings and make deals at bedtime. That's not to say that we haven't been a bit tired on occasion during the day, but I think our system is working from a standpoint of both of us seem to be as rested as possible with a days old baby in the house.

Wednesday was a bit surreal for me. I don't know about Leah, but it was like I knew we were going through the motions of bringing our son home, yet not really sure that I would fully grasp the moment until days or weeks or months down the road. I immediately noticed a difference in my driving philosophy, even before turning out of the hospital parking lot. Alone, I probably would've turned out in front of a vehicle that had plenty of space in front of it to do so. But with my precious cargo, I made absolutely sure there was plenty of room--and then some.

Thursday was, of course, Turkey Day. My mom had offered to cook a Thanksgiving-themed meal and bring it to our house so that we wouldn't miss out on traditional stuff. Hospital staff even commented throughout our stay, "I hope you got somebody bringing your Thanksgiving." No offense taken, but it was as if nobody thought for even a minute that we'd feel like getting out. Leah, however, decided that she was up to it and wanted to make an appearance, albeit short ones, at a couple of family gatherings--especially ones attended by people who had not yet seen Nicholas. I emphatically insisted that Leah should say, "I'm ready to go" when that time arose, and not to worry about hurting people's feelings. Her health, and that of Nicholas, were the only thing to even think about, and if somebody dared to question why we left after only being there for X minutes or something, then they just didn't have a clue. In the end, I don't think anybody really went down that road, and most were glad (and maybe a bit surprised) that we even stopped by. I'm glad that we did what we did, but we were glad to get home that day, too.

Leah and I have commented to each other that sometimes it still doesn't seem real. As silly as that sounds, I guess sooner or later the reality will set in. It's not that we're in denial or anything, but the very concept of caring for this tiny little needy infant is such a new and radical concept, it's hard to wrap your mind around. I promise I'm not trying to get all deep and transcendental or anything--it's just that I still don't think of myself as someone's Daddy; I'm sure that checkbox for "Dependent" on next year's tax return will help me concrete it in my mind. : )