Finally, after five days, they let us take our first-born home. And since things had gone so smoothly at the hospital, we were confident that this parenting thing would be a piece of cake.
That first night, after a late feeding, we put my daughter down to bed in her new crib and went off to catch a little shuteye. That's when the crying began. And I'm not talking about your normal "wha-wha" type of cry. It was an ear-piercing, Something-is-seriously-wrong-with-me! type of cry. No matter what we did, we just couldn't get her to stop.
Finally, around 2 a.m., my wife turned and looked at me and said, "I'm sorry . . . I can't do it! I have to get some sleep!" And then she fainted dead off.
I was stunned. I fully expected her to handle most of the baby stuff. She had worked in a daycare, after all. Surely she knew more about kids than me.
Panicked, I picked up the phone and called the hospital nursery, where we had just been hours earlier. "Hi, yes . . . ," I mumbled, "um . . . there's something wrong with my daughter."
"What seems to be the problem, sir?"
"Well, she won't stop crying — no matter what we do!"
There was a brief moment of silence over the phone before the nurse responded. I could almost hear her eyes rolling at me. "Ah yes, sir. Well, you see . . . babies tend to cry every once in a while." I could tell by the tone of her voice that I wasn't the first frantic father to call the same day he had taken his first-born home from the hospital. I could also tell that I was on my own.
I finally figured out that the only way my daughter would stop crying was if I held her close to me while I was standing up and rocking back and forth. Every time I tried to sit down, she'd start up again. So I just stood there rocking her. All. Night. Long.
Meanwhile, my wife was somewhere off in dreamland. And I guess she probably deserved it. (Probably.)
Babies cry. I can't put it more plainly than that. So get used to it. They cry when they're tired, when they're hungry, when they want you, when their binky falls out, when they're constipated, when they have the runs, when they get frustrated, when they're lonely, when they're cold, and when they're hot. They cry in the morning, during the day, and in the middle of the night. They cry at the restaurant, in church, at the grocery store, at the liquor store (don't judge), and basically anytime you don't want them to, which is always.
And if your daughter is anything like mine, the crying won't stop at infancy. She no longer cries when she's hungry or tired, but rather when her shoes "feel weird." Or her brother commandeers her teddy. Or the wind blows too hard. Or it's Tuesday.
Like I said, get used to it.
SURVIVAL TIPS:
- Stay in the hospital as long as possible. Even if you have to slip the nurses a twenty.
- Invest in a good pair of ear plugs. They won't block out all the noise, but they'll lessen the pain.
- Unplug the monitor. Remember: If you can't hear the baby crying, she's not crying.
Valentine Brkich is a freelance writer (valthewriter.com) specializing in marketing content. He also works as a self-publishing consultant. The father of two young children, Val writes about his parenting misadventures in small-town America in his blog, smalltowndad.com. His latest ebook is "Achieving Mediocrity: Surefire Strategies for a Lackluster Life."
