The dark days
Some days are just difficult as a new dad. There’s no reason for it and they go away as quickly as they arrive. But sometimes it’ll feel like everything is against you and nothing you’re doing is working. As the cliché goes: this too shall pass.
In the early days of parenthood I remember being gripped by a kind of existential despair, a sort of weird nausea that tightened around me and made my throat swell up like I was about to cry. I remember a sense of aloneness, just feeling like I was at risk of going under without anybody noticing. This sounds ridiculously melodramatic today, and being objective, it just wasn’t true: at the very least, I was going through all of that with Maddy by my side. Our families and friends were all around us, offering love and support. But sometimes the fog of sleep deprivation and stress make your support network feel like it’s disappeared.
I had that uncomfortable experience a few weeks ago (eg. two months into parenthood). It only lasted for a day or two, and coincided with my work ramping up and me trying to fulfil some extracurricular commitments (eg. a website I manage) and not finding enough time to do all of it. Looking back now, I know it was just stress, but those evenings after work felt awful.
They coincided with a bad week for Ted: if you believe the hype, there’s an app/methodology called Wonder Weeks where your baby goes through “leaps” in their mental and physical development. These coincide with “sunny” and “stormy” weeks depending on the changes the baby is experiencing. Ted was in a stormy week, meaning he was grouchy and sometimes inconsolable. This tended to manifest itself in a complete rejection of anything and anyone that wasn’t Maddy.
It’s a tough thing to face when your baby howls and writhes as you try to feed him a bottle, only for his mother to pick him up and offer him the same bottle, which he quietly and serenely accepts. You feel rejected – who wouldn’t? But there’s also a level of guilt: you’re supposed to be giving your partner a break from this now you’re back from work, and here you are handing the baby over to her with a “you-deal-with-it” expression.
But sometimes babies just can’t be soothed with anything except their mum. I’m under no illusions about it – I love it, in fact. The complex and intrinsic bond between Maddy and Ted is incredible to watch. I’ve had to learn about Ted and get to know him (and teach him who I am). With Maddy and Ted, all of that comes built in. He came into existence surrounded by the sounds of her body, her heart beating and her scent and voice. In a very real sense, it’s all he’s ever known. Likewise she grew him inside her; she understands his wants and needs in a primal, instinctive way.
As a dad, I’ll never experience that. I have my own bond with Ted and I love the things that we’re learning to do together. But I hate the idea that some dads seem to favour, which suggests that because of that intrinsic bond between mother and baby, that the dad is somehow absolved of doing any of the emotional labour because he doesn’t “know” how to do it like the mum does. I know how to do it, but sometimes the baby just won’t accept it from anybody else.
When you’re tired and stressed and trying to do the right thing, it’s difficult to be rejected. You just want to show your kid (and partner) that you love them. But we’re in this for the long game. The dark days give way to bright ones full of smiles and giggles and shared moments of joy, moments that make the bad ones fade and crinkle to nothing. Remember that when you’re struggling, on the days when you’re feeling rejected like you have nothing to offer. You’ve got this.