New Father Brogging, #005

We’re now well into the brave new world of pandemic ruining the planet, America “ascending” to #1, as in, being the country that’s most been most devastated by coronavirus and had the highest afflicted/death toll in the world, and pretty much everyone in the world has been advised to stay inside, avoid other people, and generally hunker down and hope for everything to eventually blow over.

Cabin fever, has perpetually been viewed as one of the biggest obstacles for Americans across the country, and it’s no more evident than whenever I do go out (pediatrician appointments, picking up takeout meals), that there are always people out and about, taking walks or jogging, more than ever.  Seriously, a running joke that myself and many people out there have, are that we’re all seeing people in our own neighborhoods that we’d never seen before, because people are mostly recluses to begin with, but forced into situations where they are discouraged from wasting time elsewhere, they feel the itch to waste time at home, even if it means being seen by their neighbors.

It kind of defeats the purpose of social distancing, but Americans have always been shit about following directions in the first place.  Although going on walks and jogging is a pathetic bending of a rule that isn’t going to help, things could be worse, so I guess it’s mostly a “fuck it, let them have that” kind of compromise, although I have heard of more draconian areas in the country that have police willing to write tickets for those not properly practicing social distancing.

Personally, cabin fever hasn’t really hit mythical wife and I, because the vast majority of our days have been overwhelmingly consumed by the whole, now we’re parents thing. I highly recommend popping out a newborn and raising it, if you’re feeling anxious about the way the world is now; I assure anyone that it most definitely is effective at taking their mind off of the inability to go out and do things, and that there’s absolutely no feeling of having too much time on your hands.

As it stands, since I’m working remotely, I actually feel like I work more now that I’m doing it from home, than I do when I’m at the office.  In fact, I feel like a lot of my reports and a lot of my peers in general are doing similarly, mostly on account of the fact that they all feel like they need to prove that they’re working, and subsequently actually become more productive than not.  I’m glued to my work machine for full work days, and by the time I log off, it’s the start of the evening, and we’re on a general cycle of feeding and changing the baby and then suddenly it’s 10 pm, and I need to start thinking about the next work day.

There are people out there who are complaining about how they’ve watched “everything” on Netflix already and are thinking of what streaming service to subscribe to next in order to find more fresh new content to watch; I’ve barely watched any television at all over the last few weeks.  The only things that I’ve really seen are when mythical wife is on pumping/feeding duty and I’m hanging out for support, and she’s been watching stuff like Great British Baking Show or Crash Landing On You.

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New Father Brogging, #004

The last time I wrote about my plight of being a new dad, mythical wife and I were staying overnight at the NICU as the last milestone necessary in order for our kid to come home.  That being said, baby is now home where she belongs, and thus begins (really) the rest of our lives, and the start of our lives as a family unit.

Honestly, it hasn’t been as tragically difficult as people love to expound that new parenthood really is.  Sure, we’re operating on the NICU’s general schedule of feeding every three hours, so that our premature child can gain weight as efficiently as possible, but I imagine this is something that my body will get used to as time progresses, not to mention the fact that as baby grows and develops, she won’t need to be on this kind of timeline forever either.

So mythical wife and I get up at 2:30 and 5:30 in the morning each night to feed our baby, and slog our way through the motions in the AM hours.  I get up at around 7:45 to make sure that I’m logged into work on time, but then I go ahead and take care of the feedings at 8:30 and 11:30, while I frantically do my best to do work-related things in between.  Yes, I am still working from home, and it is truly an unprecedented brave new world we’re all operating in these days, and I often have anxious thoughts about the future of my own career, as I wonder if the longer all of this goes on, the more expendable my team’s work will become perceived.

Work aside, being a dad is pretty great.  I don’t mind the dirty diapers and the demanding schedule, because I have a beautiful daughter that I enjoy just sitting and watching sometimes, wondering how her features are going to grow in, and despite the fact that she had more of my features at birth, I can see glimpses of lighter brown hair, and there’s no mistaking the large eyes she sprouts whenever they open up, that definitely come from mommy and not from me.

I love changing her outfits and seeing her in the large varieties of adorable baby clothing that we’ve purchased in advance as well as inherited from the generations of cousins ahead of me.  I’ve been peed on and I’ve witnessed various catastrophes of soiled diapers, but they’re no big deal at all.  I refuse to be a stereotypical dad that can’t handle changing diapers or think I’m too macho or manly to do things that people tend to associate as being “mom work.”

In fact, it kind of makes me a little sad whenever people have given me praise over my indifference and enthusiasm for doing things like changing diapers or bathing my kid.  It speaks volumes of the amount of men out there that don’t do the littlest things that instill love and affection for their children, and if there’s one thing that I want to accomplish as a dad, it’s that my kid grows up knowing that I love her more than anything, from the big things to the little ones.

Eventually, we’ll hopefully get to a comfortable rhythm as it comes to living with a child in tow now.  As much as I want to use this additional time at home to catch up on cleaning and making the house as great as possible for our kid, or I want to be a lazy slug and watch television and movies in between feedings, I just don’t feel like I ever have the time.  Three hours sounds like a lot of time, but given how much of it I spend cleaning bottles or pump parts or straightening things out for the next feeding/changing session, then I feel like I don’t have enough contiguous time to do anything productive or enjoyable, so I usually dick around on my phone or watch YouTube videos instead.

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New Father Brogging, #003

Mythical wife and I are currently staying overnight at the NICU right now.  No, nothing is wrong with mythical baby, this is just a mandatory pre-requisite that parents of NICU babies are required to do at this hospital before babies are allowed to go home.  So ultimately, this is very much a good thing, and one of the last bullet points we have to check off before our baby is actually going to be coming home.

When my daughter was first admitted into the NICU, one of the more frustrating things was that we couldn’t get anything remotely close to a concrete timeline of how long to expect her to be here; after all, every single baby is different, and I can’t blame anyone for not wanting to give false hopes or expectations to anxious parents, but it didn’t change the fact that we had no real ideas of how long she was going to be in the NICU, instead of at home, giving mythical wife and I a semblance of actually beginning to feel like real parents.

At one point, we were told 10-14 days for a baby as premature as ours was, and then another doctor came along and said that she might possibly be here as long as she was early, which for us was a little over five weeks.  During one of the daily visits, one nurse predicted “maybe one to three more weeks,” leaving me feeling drained and dejected.

But it doesn’t matter anymore, because after 16 days, our baby is on the cusp of heading home, with our household becoming complete, and my family all existing under the same roof.  At this point, it’s almost feeling like a dream is coming true, because the sense of time during these last few weeks was definitely distorted, and especially with the way the world has become so warped and weird due to the whole coronavirus thing going on, literally changing the way America is running currently.

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New Father Brogging, #002

Despite my sporadic writing habits leading up to the birth of my child, I ironically seem to be finding more time to sit down and write now that she’s come into the world.  Mostly on account of the fact that as she was five weeks early, she’s unfortunately not home yet, and is still at the NICU, where her frail little preemie body is playing catchup under the safe and watchful eyes of medical professionals.

Ultimately, mythical wife and I both know that she’s exactly where she needs to be in her current state, and we are eternally grateful to the kind and caring staff of the hospital that has been definitely providing excellent care for our daughter.  However, when the days are over, the reality is that she is still not home with us, and it’s an agonizing struggle at the end of each night when the time comes for us to part ways with our daughter, while she stays in the NICU while we leave her and head back to our house, empty of human children.

She was born 12 days ago, but it doesn’t really quite feel like we’re parents just yet, as when the time comes in which we go to bed, it’s like we’re a married couple with no children, since there’s no kid to put to sleep and marvel over the fact that it’s a life that we created together.

We spend around 6-8 hours a day in the NICU with our kid, but until the day she comes home, there really is something kind of missing from the whole experience of having a child.  We feel like parents when we get to change her diapers, feed her, and rock her to sleep, but the wholesome feelings always end when the realization hits that we need to go home to rest and take care of ourselves, so we have the energy and capacity to do it all over again the following day.

Our daughter’s showing progress on a daily basis, but the fact of the matter is that it’s still an indeterminate amount of time before she’s given the green light to come home.  Her last real hurdle is to continue to demonstrate the ability to eat more and out of a bottle, more consistently, and subsequently gain weight.  Every day where she drains an entire bottle is akin to a playoff win, but behind the scenes we don’t know if we’re in the lightning-quick MLB playoffs, or if we’re in the endless vortex known as the NBA’s playoffs.

Back home, I’ve actually accomplished a lot of the tasks around the house that mythical wife and I agreed needed to get done before the arrival of our kid, because once she got here, we know they probably won’t be gotten to.  I’ve painted entire sections of our house, I’ve stained the entire fence around the house.  I’ve swapped out old outlets and switches for new, tamper-proof versions of them for future kid safety.  I’ve unboxed strollers and learned how to install car seats into both mine and mythical wife’s cars.  Just about every piece of furniture for our baby’s nursery is assembled and the room just about finished.

I’d wager to guess that most parents who ever have to go through the experience of their children going into the NICU go through the same kind of anxieties and frustration that mythical wife and I are going through.  I know there are many out there who have it way worse than we do in terms of state of the baby upon arrival or how little or long they stay in the NICU, but when the day is over, we’re all in the same state of where we as parents go home, while our children remain behind, which is a shitty feeling no matter how you look at it.

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New Father Brogging, #001

At the time I’m writing this, my daughter is officially one week old.  It’s hard to believe that it’s been but just a week since she was born, because there are times where the last few days have felt like eternities, and then there are times where the hours have flown by, leaving me scratching my head to what just happened.

Several of those days were spent living at the hospital, as mythical wife was still recovering from surgery; and as crazy as it might sound, in spite of the uncomfortable bed, the cramped quarters, flimsy water cups, crappy television sound, and the general feeling of a lack of privacy, I kind of enjoyed it a lot.  There was an intimate feeling being there with my wife, just the two of us that’s hard to explain, but ultimately, it was the comfort in knowing that at just about any time, I had the capability to walk to the NICU to see my daughter, being nursed into readiness for the real world.

And I did just that; even the first night after birth, I personally delivered mythical wife’s colostrum to the NICU at all hours of the night, just so I could have an excuse to see my newborn daughter, even if there were all sorts of tubes, wires and hoses coming from her frail little being.  She was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed in my life, and it’s hard to not get teary-eyed just thinking about those quiet moments of just the two of us in a room with me watching over her.  I must have scrubbed my arms raw several times over, thanks to the required 2-minute scrubs in order to enter the NICU, but I’d rather deal with some dry skin than know some germs can get in and harm babies.

In fact, not a day goes by where I don’t get overwhelmed with an emotional feeling and get teary-eyed at some point, whether it’s thinking about one of the many unforgettable moments over the last week, or it’s looking at a picture of my baby and feeling what unconditional love genuinely feels like.  In other words, daddy is a great big crybaby, but I don’t really care what anyone thinks about it, because nothing is really going to change the fact that I’ll probably bawl my eyes out thousands of more times over the next few years.

What’s interesting about this period of time is that if not for the fact that my precious baby were in the picture, the general conversation around the rest of the world surrounding me would sound so much more different.

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The day that everything changed forever

March 5th, 2020.  It was a Thursday.  I woke up at 5:58 am like I do every work day.  I brushed my teeth and went downstairs, poured myself a bowl of cereal, but instead of eating it immediately, I went to let the dogs outside, because I like my cereal a little bit soggy.  I prepared my wife’s breakfast smoothie, like I had done over the last two weeks, because she wanted to switch things up from the bacon, egg and cheese English muffins that I’d been making her every morning for the last month prior.

Mythical wife and I left for our respective jobs, and as is always the case, I went straight to the gym first.  This was a cardio day, where I spend my entire time running on the treadmill.  6.9 speed, no incline, for 20 minutes, and then I push it over the last five, before giving myself a five minute cool down and then hitting the showers.  I always think twice about what I change into after cardio days, because I tend to keep sweating even after a shower after doing cardio.

Afterward, I return my gym bag to my car and head up to the office, as is the norm every single working day.  I plop down at my desk and feel the existential dread of the inevitable emails of people pointing out my flaws as a worker or people in other departments making their problems become my problems, and then I contemplate why I stay with this company before realizing how much worse I could have it elsewhere, and then try to think positively about my reports and the people I work with as bright points in an otherwise deteriorating opinion of my job.

But more importantly, I set out to tackle my biggest concern of the day: how to get more 10K eggs in Pokémon Go.  I had made a point to use a bunch of incubators to hatch away several 5K eggs, because 5K eggs are like herpes in which you get saddled with them, and there’s no way to get rid of them, except for getting them to hatch.  They hog up your limited inventory and prevent you from getting the more coveted 10K eggs.  I had cleared up four valuable eggs slots, and wanted to figure out if there were any way to hedge my bets and get 10K eggs in their stead.  I searched on the internet and I asked the community on the work’s Slack channel because there are a few hardcore types who work for the company.

Then, I get a text message from mythical wife: she’s going to the hospital.  She’s feeling otherwise fine, but she was appearing to be leaking fluid that was in all likelihood not urine.

Uh oh.

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A catch-up post

Usually, after a week or so, my internal brogging meter starts panicking if I haven’t taken the time to write anything.  After two weeks, I get anxious that I haven’t written anything other than a mundane email at work, and nothing for my own gratification.  And anything beyond that is just pure chaos in my head, and I begin to descend down this rabbit hole of thinking if I don’t write anything soon, I’ll fall into this pit of never writing again. 

Obviously that’s ludicrous thinking, and I can start back up whenever I feel like it, but the overlying factor is that when the day is over, I simply need time to write.  Topics aren’t necessarily the issue, I’ve got a small queue of things that I found to be thought-provoking to want to blab on about for a little bit, but unfortunately the need for time didn’t necessarily sync up.

So instead of trying to write backwards and backfill a queue of mostly inconsequential topics, I figured I’d just start off with writing for little else than the sake of catching up, because this isn’t necessarily going to be one topic I touch on, and I’ve definitely got a lot on my mind these days that I think wouldn’t hurt to put into writing for me to reflect back on in the future.

First and foremost, let’s talk about my impending journey into upcoming fatherhood.  Obviously, I haven’t really written a lot about this, but it’s not because I don’t care, but it’s mostly because it’s a tremendous amount for me to process, and I don’t always know how to express myself when it comes to it.  I think things are a little bit clearer now these days, but over the last few months, it’s always been more of a “when” kind of thing, but as the expected due date has dwindled from months to weeks, we’re at the point where mythical wife explained to her parents that we’re in the stage where our kid can actually show up any time now, regardless of the fact that we’re still a little around six weeks away.

That notion, kind of got my blood pumping, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like I have enough time left to do all the things around the house that we both know will probably never get done once the baby arrives.  On account of this, I’ve been working pretty much non-stop when I’m at home, doing painting, minor repairs, and more painting, to get the house to a stage where we’ll be content to let it sit for many years before we feel the need to freshen things up later on.

Needless to say, I fucking hate painting with a passion.  It’s about the worst activity in the world for homeowners, and it always makes me want to pay someone to do it for me, but I know that the estimates for the labor will often times be around 10x more than it would cost for the paint and for me to do it myself, and because I’m Asian and cheap, I end up doing it myself no matter how much I revile it.  I’ve decided that in the future, painting, will be the most adequate form of discipline I can apply to my kid if she ever becomes a bratty teen that steps out of line.

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