6 Months

It’s been 6 Months.

6 Months since the birth of my son, Abraham.

6 Months since I was immersed into parenthood.

6 Months since I’ve written on this blog.

It’s been 6 months since I’ve written anything, well, because being a parent is hard.  Yes, I know I’m breaking new ground here but being a dad is hard.  Taking care of another human being is not a 40-hour a week job but it’s a 168-hour a week job.  So to get back to writing again I thought I’d summarize what the past 6 months have been like.

To begin with, the first month of having a baby disappears before you even know it.  All I can remember is waking up in the middle of the night to grab the boy to bring to his mom, changing his diaper, and being over the moon when he smirked at us for the first time.  I also remember being terrified at every new corner.  Is he still breathing?  Is he too hot?  Is he too cold?

After the first month I thought maybe we are figuring this parenting thing out but then these so-called ‘growth spurts’ came about.  Every time I think I’ve figured out how my son operates he decides to change his habits and throw us off our game.  What do you mean you don’t like to be swaddled, you used to love that! Why aren’t you sleeping, you should be sleeping!

Over these past 6 months Abraham has put us through health scares, many sleepless nights, endless amounts of entertainment, and some of the most enjoyable moments of my life.

After Brooke and I got married the biggest thing I realized was how selfish I am.  How I want my things and I want to do things my way.  I realize this and I try to put Brooke’s needs first (seems to always be a work in progress), as two become one.

After Abraham was born the biggest thing I realized is how much independence drives me.  I can no longer make spur of the moment decisions. I can no longer do things whenever I want. I have a son whose needs come first.  It’s easy to think about the things I can’t do, but the truth is that having a child depend on you is one of the hardest yet most rewarding jobs.

A few weeks ago I faced a breaking point.  Brooke was working and I had Abraham for the afternoon/evening.  He had been with my mom for morning/early afternoon and he was deciding not to eat from the bottle again.  I got him home and by that time he hadn’t eaten for 4-5 hours (yet if you’ve seen my son, you know if he didn’t eat for a week he has enough fat to sustain him). Needless to say, he was crabby.

So I warm up his bottle, sit down and for an hour I try to feed my son, but he keeps pushing it away.  His cry is getting louder and louder and he just refuses to eat.  I try to put this crabby boy to sleep but he refuses to sleep, he just keeps crying.  I try and feed him again, more refusing and more crying.  At this point it had been about 2-3 hours of crying, not eating, and refusing to sleep, I hit my breaking point.

I was rocking my son trying to calm him down when tears started streaming down MY face.  I was trying so hard to give him what he needed but he wouldn’t take it.  I began to ask the questions, “What did I get myself into?”  “Am I cut out for this?”  “Am I bad parent?”  I was texting Brooke while sobbing, and I felt like a failure.  I was failing as a parent.

So I put my son down, laid on the couch and took a deep breath.  I prayed asking God to give me the strength to go back in and care for my son.  I knew that even though I felt like a loser, like a failing father, I had a responsibility to care for my son at all times, when I’m tired, when I’m angry, when I’m failing.

I went back in with a new attitude and cared for my crying son till he finally fell asleep in my arms.  I stared down at his adorable face and I thought I’d do it all again.  I’d go through these past 4 hours of crying and screaming to get to this point, my son asleep in my arms, relying on my care for him.

Here is what these past 6 months have taught me.  I’m never going to figure out parenting.  I’m never going to feel like I’m an expert, like I’ve got all the answers.  When Abraham wakes up at 3 AM, I’m never going to enjoy getting out of bed to rock him back to sleep.  But I’m always going to care for him.  I’m always going to look out for what’s best for him.  When he refuses what I know he needs, I’m still going to offer it to him, even though it pains me when he refuses it. As his parent, I need to care for him by giving him what he needs.

Ultimately, when I was sitting there with my son asleep in my arms, I thought how our Father, God, knows what is best for us.  Yet, as his children, we try and go our own way, we refuse the care that he is offering us.  We cry and throw fits when things don’t go our way while he is holding us trying to feed us the truth we need.

My son has taught me that just as he refuses the care I know he needs, I refuse the care God knows that I need.  I know I cry and scream and don’t make it easy for God but I also know that he will always be there caring for me.  I just have to stop fighting and accept that he knows what’s best for me.  So many times I fight for my independence but really what I have to do is realize I am ever dependent on God and his provision and care for my life.