Dear New Father,
Hello. This is a letter to a new father (you), from me, also a new father.
How are you today? Well rested? Good. Say goodbye to that feeling forever. Remember when you could sleep for 10 hours, nay, 12 hours if you felt like it? Remember those days? Waking up at 11a, cooking up something good, maybe washing it down with a few beers on your day off, then taking a nap at 1p in the afternoon. Weren’t those days the best? Alas, memories…
This is a letter to a new father (you), from me, also a new father. From this moment forward your life will be irrevocably changed. Your life is now your child’s life. His demands are your problem. Her whimsy is your responsibility. His capriciousness is your conundrum to solve. Your Rubik’s cube. That fart you just heard. That wasn’t a fart. Better check it out. Ready? Go.
There is no escape from this reality. Concealed within your new chamber of solitude is absolutely no solitude whatsoever. The only way out is forward, you know, like Wonka’s factory. Do you like the sound of incessant crying? Do you? I didn’t think so. Do you prefer the sound of freshly manicured false tips scraping against a chalkboard? No? Well you will, trust me.
Do you know what colic is? I know, it’s a stupid word. Colic. What does it mean anyway? Generally defined, colic is abdominal and bowel discomfort but oh how you will learn that it is so much more. With a colicky baby, you will surely suffer in the short term. But one day you can help warn other new parents, by writing an ode to the days when you rode a sleigh to hell pulled by Cerberus himself. Maybe paying it forward will quell the memories.
This is a letter to a new father (you), from me, also a new father. You are Prometheus. Your child is the eagle. You were told that all the binge drinking in college would be the thing that destroyed your liver. But it didn’t, did it? Hahaha, it seems that even escaping the consequences of another life’s debauchery is not without a sense of irony. Be prepared to experience tomorrow exactly what you experienced today.
You didn’t think that this would be difficult. You never imagined that the short amount of time it takes to do a simple act would be in such high demand. Do you find yourself cherishing personal activities that you took for granted? Things that get you a moment of isolation like brushing your teeth, taking a shower, a shit, or making your morning coffee? You never thought that those mere minutes would become your “alone time,” did you? Oh, Prometheus, you are such a simpleton. I truly wish you the best, for your struggle is man’s struggle.
This is a letter to a new father (you), from me, also a new father. The truth is that what you are going through is a paradoxical dichotomy of love and hate the likes of which cannot be replicated. Do you secretly dream of tossing your baby in the dumpster? You know, like Brenda? It’s ok if you do. I think we all did.
If these words scare you, then my message is working. Hollywood teaches us that people sinking in quicksand are consumed rapidly, but they’re not, are they? In reality, quicksand envelopes someone slowly and methodically. Don’t let yourself be consumed. Grab that rope, Prometheus, grab it now.
Nostalgia is a wonderful thing. Maybe the best of things. We never know when we are living a moment that we will one day refer to as “back in the day.” These moments that we are enduring now, these horrifying moments, they are not often relived. Cherish them as they pass. For one day this is the time we will look back on with a fond nostalgia.
Guard your liver, Prometheus. The sun is rising again.
This is a letter to a new father (you), from me, also a new father.