Mike here. The title of this post is of course in jest, but it is one of the thousands of emotions I’ve experienced since Elsa Beatrice Bartholomy came into our lives last Thursday night at 8:52 PM. Of course, that emotion, along with the ones that usually follow it (i.e. “My God I have no idea what I’m doing” or “what kind of a sadistic madman designed diapers?!?”), is fleeting. That being said, the one lasting emotion these past five days has been pride. Growing pride in my daughter (which may be more of a reflection of the hopes and dreams that I have for her than pride per say in her ability to sleep 18 hours a day). But also a level of pride in my wife that borders on amazement.
Meg was poked, prodded, hooked up to various machines, poked and prodded again, told there was no reason she couldn’t deliver one way, hooked up to different machines, told she needed to consider the option no one wanted to say out loud for nearly 24 hours, and finally operated upon. What was her response to all of this? To come through it all focusing completely on the beautiful creation she had brought into the world, and to never complain. I see how much larger my learning curve for parenting seems to be than Meg’s, and it’s clear that someone spent a huge part of the last nine months studying and preparing. I am truly lucky to have her raising a child with me.
And speaking of pride, I’m proud of myself for getting my personal record time for changing a wet diaper to just under 7 minutes.