The birds sing at night

At night, there are birds that still sing around my house. It can be 10 p.m. but in my backyard, it'll look and sound as if it was shortly before dawn.

Lately, I've been thinking about how symbolic this is regarding the current state of my life.

Shortly over a month ago, my life completely changed. Since then, I've struggled to function on a very minimal amount of sleep, shifted my priorities to focus on the needs of my newborn child, and attempted to make the transition not nearly as overwhelming for Missy.

And yet, the other night, I walked into the living room and watched my daughter lay sleeping on the stomach of my sleeping wife. Suddenly, all of those aforementioned issues seemed to melt away.

Since Kya's birth, I've felt increasingly weighted down by the financial burdens, too. This past week was especially stressful, as we received the damages from both the hospital (and just think if Kya was actually born there!) as well as our tax returns. I've attempted to revise our budget expenses, which is nearly impossible to predict with Missy currently not working, me on straight commission, and a child who seems to regularly consume her weight in formula. Each day, the mountain of debt continues to grow.

And yet, yesterday, I made Kya coo and smile at me. Suddenly, the price of my debt seemed worth every penny.

As I continue to embrace this new phase of life which has granted me a new life to look out for, searching for daylight seems to be a daunting task at times. Yet, just when things seem to be at its darkest, I see the beauty in the little things, like watching a mother and daughter form a bond early on, or learning what it takes to make a baby smile.

And just then, the birds begin to sing again.

“Let Her Cry” or “Rescue Me From These Tears?”

To explain my title, one is a Hootie and the Blowfish song. The other one I have no idea, but doesn’t it sound like it could be lyrics to some cheesy rock ballad? Maybe it is. I’ll have to Google that later.

But the title has a purpose, a theme if you will, to our first dilemma as parents of a three-week old who has begun to catch on that, if she cries, Mommy and Daddy immediately approach and try to do something about it.

What that’s resulted in is us attempting to fulfill her wants as well as her needs. The first couple weeks, she was on a pretty consistent three hour feeding schedule, but now she’ll occasionally cry for a bottle at the two-and-a-half hour mark. At least, I’m guessing she’s crying for that. She latches on for dear life and subsequently downs the bottle at a pace that would have humbled me even back in my college glory days.

Then again, I was never really good at chugging. Perhaps that explains my affinity toward hoity-toity sipping-type drinks.

Be that as it may, I’m trying to look at this scientifically: If she consumes the same amount of formula at the same intervals and moves around a similar amount of times every day, shouldn’t she digest at the same pace and thus be hungry around the same time every day too? Isn’t that how it works for most human beings? Or are babies exempt from this theory?

Anyhow, my theory is that although she may want to have the formula earlier (I don’t know why – it looks absolutely disgusting but hey, different strokes for different folks), she doesn’t need it. And she’s not going to starve if we politely decline her request at the two-and-a-half hour mark as opposed to three. Or need to be changed any more often (since, you know, the whole digesting at the same pace hypothesis I posed earlier).

Is that heartless? Or understandable? I absolutely despise hearing her cry and love when I’m able to do something as simple as feed her to put her at ease, but, over the past couple days, we’ve found ourselves being kept up later and waking up more, thus turning the two of us into walking zombies the following day.

I think we’ve been too quick to jump the gun the moment we hear a whimper, leading to a lot of holding her to prevent said whimper from returning.  But that has proven to be really freaking exhausting.

And yes, I understand that "needing to be held" is an expression that does, indeed, have the word "need" in it, I believe it does evolve into a "want" after a certain point.

One of Missy’s sisters suggested letting her cry longer. And that make sense as the clear-cut way to restore routine as well as our sanity.

But I also realize it will be easier said than done, the moment I see those cute little lips quiver and try to restrain myself from getting up.

(Oh, and in case you were wondering: ) https://www.google.com/#hl=en&sugexp=frgbld&gs_nf=1&tok=kv2FTGFyFAtHykTp5SfpMQ&pq=%E2%80%9Crescue%20you%20me%20from%20these%20tears%3F%E2%80%9D&cp=28&gs_id=3b&xhr=t&q=%22Rescue%20me%20from%20these%20tears%22&pf=p&sclient=psy-ab&oq=%22Rescue+me+from+these+tears%22&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&gs_l=&pbx=1&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_qf.,cf.osb&fp=21ba5269d78bca91&biw=1249&bih=548

The blink of an eye...

Life changes in the blink of an eye. Yes, it's cliche. And cheesy. And true.

Exactly two weeks ago, my daughter made her entrance into this world in grand fashion: in the back of a speeding ambulance. For the next two days in the hospital, it was hard to take my eyes off of my greatest creation. One need not be religious or spiritual to still appreciate the miracle of life.

I was especially in awe of her delicacies. Her soft skin, her fragile frame, her tiny little fingers and toes. I half-expected her to come out in a box entitled: "Handle With Care."

Two weeks is not a very long time in the grand scheme of things. It's like a figurative blink of an eye in my life. Hell, I have tasks on my to-do lists that have lingered for months. But for Kya, it is a lifetime. It's all she knows. And in that half month, I've personally witnessed an incredible transformation in her. Her face and frame have become fuller. Her eyes have begun to focus on things - including me - and stay open for longer periods.

I've even learned how she communicates, through three cries: Feed Me, Change Me, Hold Me. To know that I have a one in three chance of always satisfying her needs is quite reassuring - never have my odds been that good with another female.

And every time my eyes close and open again, it's as if there's yet another evolution taking place within her. Every experience for her is novel and groundbreaking. And every time I lay witness to it, I feel the same way.

Tonight, I decided to take the night shift and give Missy the night off. It gave me a chance to slow down her evolution before my very eyes. It also gave me a chance to appreciate the speed of my own life. As a child, it felt like it took forever to turn 18. Now 18 is almost forever ago.

One day, Kya will be 18. And I'll feel like it happened in the blink of an eye.

Makes me not want to close them. Which, at least for tonight, I won't.