My wife is a total sweetheart, no doubt about it. She’s so full of the sincerest and realest kind of sweetness that it can be easy to take for granted and get all pissy when said sweetness is not as forthcoming as usual. So it’s no surprise that when I asked her to write something about me for the DC, she did it with, well, sweetness. The story she relates below is not one that I remember, as you’ll see, but it’s one from our early parenting days that always makes us laugh. Enjoy
It was opening night of the husband’s play when I did deliver unto him the phrase that altered the course of his life: “I’m pregnant.” Now I know I probably should have said “We’re pregnant” because that’s more P.C., right? In that phrase lies the implication of Fatherly involvement. Of shared late-night wakings, poopy diapers and little league. “We” together as a parental unit. This game ain’t just for girls.
Three people were born in that delivery room on October 21st and one of them screamed a lot (Editor’s note: There was actually a lot of screaming all the way around). From the screaming demands of that little colicky baby was born the mother and the father. Sure, we were and still are a version of whom we were before, but at that moment we became exactly who that screaming baby needed us to be: his parents. Like so many nuggets in a fresh diaper, pieces of our past experiences, extensive research, and unabashed love formed together into a mass of Us as Parents. And The Holmes is a kickass Dad.
One of my favorite memories from those early days in our parenthood happened late one night during the Time of Colic. For those of you who have never suffered the wrath of colic let me sum it up for you: 3.5 months of crying every night for 3-4 hours. EVERY NIGHT. Every night for 3.5 months the Holmes danced with the baby, changed the baby, and sang to the baby. During one of those nights the baby woke up and was ready to breastfeed. I nudged Travis in bed and asked him to hand me the baby from the bedside crib. Half-asleep, he sweetly and slowly reached over and picked up not the baby, but a pillow. He gave it a few loving pats accompanied by a softly whispered “shhhhh”, then handed it to me.
\IMG_0418 I have two computer monitors on my desk. At this moment, my left monitor displays this post and my right monitor displays my favorite picture of our first son, the aforementioned baby. So I have some visual inspiration. You will notice in this picture his beaming pride over his newly acquired undershirt. He calls it his “daddy shirt” because his daddy wears one just like it around the house. And this little boy w ants to be like his daddy.
I can’t imagine a bigger compliment as a parent.