Tag: angst

2 Under 2: Critical mass (#060)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

This is my general schedule:

  • wake up at 7:20 so I can have ten minutes to let the dog out, feed the dog, take a piss, and get #1’s milk ready
  • Get #1 out of bed and pray to god (1) she hasn’t leaked out of her overnight diaper because she sleeps face down and butt up and no diaper company has figured out how to solve gravity
  • If she hasn’t wet herself and I don’t have to strip sheets, change outfits and give her a comprehensive wipe down, I bring her down to start her day
  • Between 7:30-9:00 I hang out with my kid and pray to god (2) she’s not in a cranky mood and going to whine and fuss all morning like she is at the time I’m writing this down. On weekdays, I’m also technically on the clock as of 8:30, so I low-key act like I’m active at work but I’m just monitoring work on my work phone, and praying to god (3) that nothing substantial happens, but if it does then I have to actually work while placating a toddler for until our nanny shows up or my wife relieves me
  • On weekdays, by like 8:50 I’m in my office so that I can prepare for my workday for a job I’ve completely soured on and want out of. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I have 9 am meetings where often times I’m the one driving them because in spite of the technical competency everyone is required to have in order to have their jobs, I’m the one most capable of actually utilizing WebEx, Acrobat and Outlook. All other days, I may actually have a few minutes to breathe and compose myself on company time, but those are few and far between as I am often playing catch-up on the work that doesn’t get done because I’m often playing dad throughout the workday (despite having a hard paid nanny and wife home on maternity leave).
  • Throughout most workdays despite being on the clock, I’m pulled away multiple times to assist with #2, which are usually burps and diaper changes because mythical wife is doing her duty of pumping so that #2 can eat. However this often puts me behind on my workflow and has a trickle down effect to where I have to make up the time somewhere
  • At some point during workdays as well as weekends, I try and spend some time to begin cleaning the numerous bottles and pump parts we go through in order to feed and provide for #2. If we didn’t have two sterilizers, I would literally never be able to catch up ever
  • At noon every day, #1 goes down for her nap. This is a 2.5 hr window where only one child has to be cared for, provided her frequent screaming and crying doesn’t wake #1 up, to which I pray to god (4) daily does not happen
  • By 2:30, #1 is awakened and it’s back to 2 under 2 time, except now the nanny is clocked out, and it’s my wife and I dealing with things with me back to low-key pretending to have full undivided attention to work for the next three hours and praying to god (5) that my bosses who have no respect for core hours or late afternoon meeting etiquette don’t drop a 4 or 4:30 meeting on my head
  • 5:30 is when I’m officially off the clock, but often times due to my juggling acts there’s always a few somethings that need to be resolved, and I might have to punch in an extra 30-45 minutes to settle things down, provided my children will cooperate
  • 6:30(ish) is #1’s bath time, followed by wind down for a 7 pm bedtime. Mythical wife and I have been having to divide and conquer between two kids here and she’s often caring for a screaming #2 while I’m taking care of #1
  • By around 7:15, we’re back down to one kid, but #2 is still too early to have any routine since she’s more or less in survival mode, of eat, sleep, scream bloody murder, and any order of those three activities. It’s at this time mythical wife and I talk about how starved we are, indecisions about dinner, and how most of the local restaurants we like seem to close at 8 and we’re too late to put in a takeout order because I probably won’t get there by 8, so we eat Chick Fil-A or Zaxby’s all the time if we don’t have any palatable leftovers in the fridge
  • From dinner to bedtime, mythical wife and I play hot potato with #2 because this is the time she’s been getting colic-ky and screaming bloody murder and I’m praying to god (6) she won’t wake up #1, but the majority of the physical caring falls on me since she still has to pump a few more times to keep up with #2’s increasing eating
  • Anywhere from 11-midnight, we migrate up to the bedroom which usually feels like a meat locker now that our HVAC has been replaced, and wind #2 for the night with final feeds and diaper changes and praying to god (7) that there’s no colic or stomach aches and she’ll actually go to sleep before 1 am
  • Once #2 is down for the night, it’s typically far too late and I’m usually so gassed that I’m not even in the mood to hate-stay up late just so I can feel a shred of having two seconds for myself to not be in dad mode, and then go to bed anxious at not getting to have any me-time to unwind and feeling fried because I’m 6-7 hours from starting all this over again while also knowing there will usually be one mid-sleep wake up to feed and change #2, and I pray to god (8) that it’s just one time

If you’ve read this far and have been keeping count, you might notice that there are usually at least eight prayers to god and fewer minutes in the day where I don’t have to be a dad.

I’m sure that last part sounds selfish and gives off the impression that I don’t want to be a dad, which couldn’t be any further from the truth. However, one of the pieces of advice I was given going into parenthood was the importance of not losing one’s identity to it, to which I definitely agree that there’s definitely a balance to try and maintain when it comes to being a parent and being ourselves.

I’m in a stretch where I’ve been incapable of having the time at all to be able to switch off being dad, and having any time at all for myself to be myself. I haven’t run in over a month now, I barely have the capacity to watch any television; only really getting to when stacked on top of less effort baby activities, and most importantly to me, I have next to no time at all to write.

In fact that only reason why this post even exists is that I’ve composed it entirely in a note on my phone, while #1 was literally strapped to my head because she’s having one of those days where if dad’s not carrying her, she’s going ballistic, and I’m up to her current height off the ground at how over her bullshit I am right now, well at critical mass at how fried I am at being in dad mode for so long, and so I just strapped her in and began writing on my phone while monotonously walking in circles. At least she’s not wailing anymore.

Like most topics I write about that sound like they suck balls and might deter other bros from thinking about having kids, this would go into the category of “someday we’ll look back and laugh at this,” but in my case I look forward to the days when I can tell my kids how much they made my life pretty insufferable when they were babies.

2 Under 2: If you’ve ever said this (#055)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment
baby’s first bird

This, or anything like this, to me, or to anyone who was expecting a child not their first: “oh if your first child was good, that means the second one is going to be a nightmare”

Fuck you.  Just fuck you.  Why in the fuck would anyone want to put these ideas into the heads of parents knowing that they’re already going to be re-embarking onto the already tremendously difficult path of new parenthood, but knowing that the subsequent children are already pegged to be nightmares?  That fucking sucks, and I genuinely mean it when I want to tell everyone who insinuated this to me, that fuck you.

It has come from friends, it has come from family, and it has come from colleagues, all the same.  I know it’s just conversation, it has no bearing on the fate of our relationships, but fuck you all the same.

I say all this because I am living this.  As much as I love my second child and will continue to love my second child, there’s no sugar coating the genuine difference in difficulty with #2 than there was the first time around.  #1 was a vastly more chill and low-maintenance baby, and I know comparisons are inevitable no matter how much I can tell myself to try and not make so many, but there’s no denying that #2 has been substantially more challenging, and it has been testing my patience on a daily basis since her arrival.

I’ll go ahead and say it, just about every single night since her arrival has sucked.  This is no knock on my child, but because her circadian rhythm is all out of whack and night is day and day is night, when it’s time for conventional sleep is when the most challenges emerge, and mythical wife and I have been pushed to our breaking points numerous times, and I’ve gotten angry and broken way more than I’d like to admit.  Now things have improved slightly since I’m writing things in retrospect at this point, but without question, the first two weeks, every single night sucked, and I burned out repeatedly.

Accurate to this very second, #2 exists solely in three states of being: sleeping, eating, or screaming her head off bloody murder.  There is seldom any moments of normalcy; typically what seems normal or calm are usually precursors to indigestion-related screaming bloody murder, or the next starving like a UNICEF child screaming bloody murder.  Calm is when she falls asleep, but it’s really only a matter of time before the clock gets too close to the next feed, and if a bottle is not prepared in anticipation, it’s going to be eight minutes of agony of waiting for a bottle to warm while she’s screaming her head off the whole time.

Suffice to say, it’s back to being Desmond from Lost, where we exist on these windows of time of 90-120 minutes where she dozes off where we can catch our breath, and if we don’t prepare well, then it’s a punishment of more soul-grating screaming until a bottle is in #2’s mouth.

By no means do have any feelings other than love for my second child, but at the same time, there’s no way I’m not going to document any of the bullshit and how much she’s driven me mad in the first few weeks of her life.  I love my child and I love both my kids, and I love being a dad.  But I also believe in being honest and transparent, and relay the fact that not every aspect of parenthood is a walk in the park.

In fact, I already look forward to the days when my daughters are older and savvy, and I can tell them stories of how #2 was a nightmare baby early on.  Or better yet, when the day eventually comes when I become a grandfather, and I can relay stories to my daughters whom might becoming new moms about how #2 was a ballistic disaster, and that it’s almost ironic payback that she’ll have to endure a crying baby of her own, much as mythical wife and I had to endure her.

I love my daughter.  I love my kids.  But this is reality and in the spirit of transparency and honesty, these are the stories that I’ll tell about it all, good and hellacious

2 Under 2: You know nothing, Jon Snow (#054)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

When it was revealed that I would be having a second child just 16 months after my first child, I tried to mentally prepare myself to treat everything as one, really really long child raising experience, and to not get too complacent in the time between children, so that I wouldn’t be blindsided by when everything inevitably goes tits up once the #2 arrives.

Yeah, telling myself all this stuff for nine months is easy, but trying to not let it affect life in general is a completely different ballgame.  Needless to say, no matter how much I tried to mentally prepare myself, few things can really physically prepare you for the rigors of newborn babies, even more so when you’ve there’s additionally a toddler that commands a tremendous amount of time, energy and attention on top of it.

I wanted to believe that mythical wife and I were better prepared as second-time parents, but we’ve learned that there are already many circumstances that are different now that have completely de-pantsed us, and rendered us as helpless and defeated as brand new parents probably feel, no matter how much advice they get, books they read, or any other means of preparation they embark on.

Mainly, the difference between #2 and #1 is the full-term versus a premature birth, and the fact that there was no NICU stay needed for #2, and we were really able to start being parents from day 1, unlike the first time, where we basically had to relinquish care of our child for 15 days, while she strengthened in intensive care.

So, in spite of all the pep-talks, preparation and thinking we’d be ready, mythical wife and I found ourselves mostly unprepared and not ready, to deal with a newborn child from day 1 and not day 15.  Not to mention that no two babies are ever going to be alike, and the disposition and behavior of #2 is vastly different than #1, leading to some challenges and inevitable comparisons, no matter how much parents say they try not to make.

Mainly, I feel like the thing that we were the least prepared for was dealing with a starving newborn because mom’s milk hadn’t come in yet, and we were left struggling with a baby that was probably not getting enough to eat early on, compounded with hospital procedure that doesn’t seem to feed mothers nearly enough food to have the fuel necessary to feed their babies, which resulted in an extremely fussy and endlessly crying baby at all hours of the night, leading mythical wife and I to end up completely burned out and fried from day one.

Obviously, this is all be written in hindsight, as I’m taking my sparing opportunities to write actually writing, and things have improved nominally since then, but it’s worth documenting the struggles and emotions that occurred at the hospital, and the feelings and opinions that formulated from the experience.  That is, after all what my brog is all about, in spite of how wonky of a writing timeline things can get.

However, this isn’t to say that we were completely useless and didn’t learn a thing or two from our own experience as parents before.  Where we really seemed to shine was being prepared for the at-hospital experience itself; as in knowing what to ask for as soon as we got to our room, as well as preparing ourselves with lots of snacks and supplemental food, because in spite of the common sense that moms need to eat in order to have fuel to feed their babies with, the hospital treats them like patience from My 600 Lb. Life, giving them very strict and limited calorie meals three times a day at sporadic intervals.  Our child was already not getting enough to eat from the onset, but probably would’ve famished to death if we didn’t know what we knew going into it this time.

And one other of the few unsolicited pieces of advice that I’d give to any dad or parents for that matter: no matter if you think your parenting problems are unique and can’t possibly have been experienced by another parents – I bet you money they have, as long as you Google your issues.  You will find other parents who have experienced what you’re going through, and you’d be a fool to not leverage their experiences to try and quell your own anxieties.

2 Under 2: Paternal Postpartum? (#053)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

After a few days of feeling foggy and lost, both physically and emotionally, primarily on account of sleep deprivation, a question popped into my head: is there such a thing as postpartum depression for dads?

A cursory Google search says that yes, there very much is such a thing as postpartum depression for dads, and that it supposedly affects one in ten dads; it figures that a headcase like me naturally ends up lumped into that 10% chance of developing postpartum symptoms, but from what I was reading in the aforementioned link, I don’t think what I’m going through is entirely the same thing as the “classic” symptoms.  But I am definitely in this hazy, foggy mood, and I think I should be happier, so it’s really up to interpretation on whether or not this is postpartum, or just me being who I am, perpetually concerned or contemplative on whatever I’m doing being a good decision or not, even at the potential expense of the present.

So I don’t really think I’m going through “classic” postpartum, but my mood is definitely probably not at happy as it should be following the birth of a child.  I feel like, if I could pinpoint it as best as I could, which is a little bit easier considering I’m writing this after the initial period in which I went through this the most, is that I think that at the very root of things, I’m just struggling to find my identity as a dad of two children and not one, balancing the guilt of having to divide my time, and of course, the feelings of inadequacy as well as simply feeling overwhelmed with what life is going to be from here on out.

But the thing is, I like to tell myself that I didn’t feel inadequate or overwhelmed from time to time, it would reflect on my quality as a dad, because it would mean that I didn’t give enough shits about my family to where I’d feel so owned and defeated so frequently, because I just don’t want to ever let them down.  At the end of the day, my goals are to be a good dad and a husband and not let my family down, and I care enough to let those motivations dictate my emotions if I ever feel concerned that I’m not meeting expectation.

At the end of the day, much like my first time around, things will ultimately settle, calm down, routines materialize, #2 will age out of some of the more challenging behaviors, and life will get easier, and emotions like postpartum will dissipate.  As mythical wife and I have often said, now that we’ve had our agreed-upon second and final child, things can only get easier from here on out, as far as raising babies goes.  Now infants, toddlers, terrible twos, and so forth are different stories, but at least by then, hopefully our girls will know how to wipe their own asses by then.

2 Under 2: I’m not dead (yet) (#052)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

This is the first time I’ve had the availability to any sort of writing since the birth of #2, and it’s solely based on the fact that I’m back to work, sequestered in my office, and where my kids are being cared for by mythical wife and our nanny.  In the downtime between periodic work emails where things are on fire, and the lulls throughout the day, I’m finding myself actually capable of finding a little bit of time to write something, and now that I do, I don’t even know where to start.

Over the last three weeks, I’ve jotted down notes and blurbs of things that I’d like to touch on, but never having the time and capacity to do so, they’ve just been amassing in a draft document and I’m debating on whether or not it’s worth trying to revisit some things but I think we all know that I probably will because I have a hard time letting go of things and ideas that were thought of, going unused.  Including the topic of having no time itself on account of welcoming a second child into the world.  We’ll see how my writing habits become in coming weeks and months, because as I’ve stated countless times, my brog is basically my lifeblood of hobbies, and no matter the circumstances it’s something I’ll never let go of.

Also over the last three weeks, I’ve gone through the a vast gamut of emotions, I’m sure that’s a surprise.  Sleep deprivation has a tendency to alter mood and emotions like that, and regardless of knowing why and reminding myself to exhibit patience, it’s still been very challenging at times to not just feel fried and angry and frustrated with things, which then leads to guilt, inadequacies and an overall shitty feeling, but three weeks in now, I think we’re kind of, hopefully, finding some modicum of rhythm, and once #2’s sleep cycles start to stabilize, or at least she manages to chain at least one sleep cycle to another, then mythical wife and I might gain some free time, which in turns would mean gaining a little bit of sanity back.

Either way, this post serves really no other purpose than to break the streak of brog silence that would ordinarily have me losing my shit to have let a week, much less three, go by without any sort of post.  Having kids seems like as justifiable reason as any to warrant it, but it doesn’t change the fact that I tend to get angsty when I don’t write for too long, which didn’t help feed the more negative emotions that have crept into my head over the last few weeks.

In a perfect more ideal world, I’ll comb through my notes and topics and try and write out some coherent and tangible stories and posts about the journeys of a second-time father and a dad of two under two years old, as well as catch up some of the other few topics that piqued my interest over the span and try to play some catch-up.

2 Under 2: the Last Times (#051)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I’m sure this won’t be a shock to any of my zero readers, but as excited I am for the impending arrival of my second child, I’m also extremely emotional and often suppressing feelings of guilt towards my first, bringing in a second so soon, and while she’s still in a stage of her life where the world is her oyster and should really have the undivided attention that many children at her age really should be getting.

Everything I’m doing, I’m realizing is counting down to the last times in which I’ll be doing all sorts of mundane things – as a father of one.  The last time bathing my daughter, putting her down to bed.  The last day in which I’ll be logging her feed times and nap minutes.  Picking up her toys and resetting all of her play area books and blocks.  Washing and then preparing the next day’s bottles that are hers and hers alone.  The next time I go to bed, and awaken the next morning, I won’t even be there to wake her up, since mythical wife will be required to be at the hospital very early. 

I can’t guarantee I won’t be fighting a tidal wave of emotion before bedtime next.  Because once I’m a father of two, who knows how long or if things like these will ever get back to a similar point, or what’s really going to happen in the future.

Although I am supremely confident in mine, and mythical wife’s capacity to love our children, and that everything will be just fine in the end, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still harboring all these feelings in the days leading up to the big arrival.

A little over a year ago, #1 showed up at 34.5 weeks, definitely, unexpectedly early, and most certainly classifying as a premature arrival.  This caught me, mythical wife, and all concerned parties completely off-guard, and if not for our own preparations, would have been in a really tricky situation after it had happened.  Even still though, it did lead to some scrambling, and as much as we look at the 15 days of her in the NICU with some angst despite knowing it was the best place for her to strengthen and start her life, it did afford me some time to truly get the house ready, seeing as how she didn’t actually get to come home for over two weeks.

That’s hardly the case, this time.  #1 showed up unexpectedly early, but #2 couldn’t possibly have been more content to stay in the oven, leading mythical wife down a path of new pregnancy experiences like debilitating insomnia and the general discomfort for having a small watermelon inside of her.  She’s not on track to be full-term, she is very much full-term at the very instant I’m writing this line right now.

We passed the milestone of #1’s early arrival, and have been doing nothing but getting ready for #2.  Mythical wife has gotten her hair done in advance.  Which made me realize that I could go and get my haircut in advance, something I couldn’t really do last year because of the surprise arrival plus the start of the pandemic.  The second nursery is almost entirely complete.  My job has been kept abreast and is fully prepared for me to be out for a few weeks as I’m going to finally cash in some of my vacation time that I’ve been sitting on for this specific reason.

All things that were not the case the first time around.  And for all those reasons that frankly nobody could have any control over, I’m still feeling guilt, irrational as it might be, I can’t always help it.  #2 is almost certain to be bigger and stronger upon her arrival, having almost an entire month to keep cooking.  The NICU, god forbid, should be avoided this time around as a result, and she will probably get lots of things that my first couldn’t get, like getting to sleep with us in the hospital room, taking to the breast, and coming home pretty immediately; all things that #1 did not experience, even if she won’t know it, we do.

Eight, full months of knowing this day was coming, and all the preparations and readiness, and I’m still feeling increasing anxiety and unpreparedness as we get closer and closer.  Like I said, I have all the confidence in the world that everything’s going to be fine, but the whole point of all these dad brogs is to chronicle the shit that goes on through my head, as a father of one, and soon to be a father of two.

2 Under 2: Realization (#050)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Just the other day, I was having one of those parenting mornings where my child was very cranky and fussy, and nothing I could seemed to be capable of placating her frustration.  There was lots of crying and tantrums, and as mythical wife and I have coined the phrase, I was getting fried.  By the time noon rolled around, my patience was completely eroded and I couldn’t wait to put her down for her afternoon nap.

Once down, mythical wife I were chatting about the particularly challenging morning, but then she said to me that the number of days left of where it’s going to be just the two of us in the morning is ticking down to zero; once #2 gets here, which is literally any day now, then mornings like this, where it’s just #1 and myself together aren’t going to be happening with any frequency, regardless of if it’s she’s being an angel or a hellion.

That realization, hit me like a baseball bat.  She was right.  It really is a bittersweet realization that once again opens up the door of guilt towards my first child, because once #2 gets here, my attention will be divided at times, and I will no longer be capable of giving her the undivided attention that I feel that any child deserves from their parents.  Suddenly, I’m feeling like an asshole for getting fried at having my patience tested by what was probably more than likely the aggravation that comes with teething for her, which is something I should know a great deal of these days, but I still let it get under my skin and burn me out.

Once #2 arrives, not only will things be much more difficult across the board, but there will be plenty of times in which I will have to divert my attention to the much more critically demanding needs of a newborn baby versus the slightly less demanding in comparison to a toddler baby, and then I’m sure I’ll be pining for the simplicity of having to only care for a single child versus bouncing around between two.

The guilt is real, although I know it’s unnecessary since the love I have for one child does not mean it will be stretched out with the arrival of a second.  Everything will work out in the end, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve probably been taking my time with #1 for granted on some days like this one, and I know that I need to treasure what little solo time I have left with her before life as I know it changes forever, again.