To the guy with the wife with the baby
She’s a natural, you know. She is competent to a fault, emitting a swift, cheery self-sufficiency that makes people think she’s not in need of anything. But there is something she does need, especially now: you.
She needs you to come home asking for her, for the baby, dropping your stuff in a pile at the door and calling to her I’m just washing my hands! in that way that tells her without seeing your face that you're smiling, like you’ve spent the day at the office willing the time to pass so you can get back to your girls.
She needs you to trust her, to follow her lead. By virtue of time logged this child is her domain. It won’t be like that forever but it is, now. Even if she’s at a loss, pretend she’s not — for however long it takes for her to find her feet.
She needs you to know, beyond any doubt, that the isolation and responsibility of her days and nights is infinitely more draining — emotionally and physically — than how you spend Monday to Friday, 9 to 5.
She needs you be at her side in this love affair, to see you as baby-drunk as she is. Because there’s almost nothing more appealing than to hear Come quick! Come see what he’s doing! and to witness the baby you made together in his daddy’s lap, and to see concentrated joy there.
She needs you to get dirty. She does.
She needs you to be patient. She is.
She needs you to be proud of her. Most days, kneecapped by self-doubt, she’s not.
She needs you to know these two things and send them back to her, received and absorbed and agreed as sure as a reflection:
1) It is not easy to be a baby — to have no understanding, no context and no control, physical or otherwise. To feel an almost constant sensation of vertigo, of falling and startling. To be hungry for milk and to not know for sure, regardless of past evidence, that someone will put something in your mouth.
2) It is not easy to be the mama of a new baby — to have no understanding, no context and no control, physical or otherwise. To feel an almost constant sensation of vertigo, of falling and startling. To be hungry for validation and to not know for sure, regardless of past evidence, that you are not alone.
For all this: such is the mark and the duty of a good sort of man.
For the sake of being crystal clear: this is not a letter to Justin.
sweetsalty kate
82 Comments
Reader Comments (82)
(And, just so you know, your brother is exactly this sort of wonderful, fantastic man. )
Nora, I'm glad you're here. It always amazes me to hear from others like you, at the very beginning of this next big stage... that you find stuff of worth or interest here, so heavily laden with baby barf and cheerios as it is. Here's to that sort of man for you, out there somewhere.
Thanks for doing this. It means a lot to some of us out here, although we may not always write and say so.
And man, I know that we have it hard as women- but let's not discount what it takes to provide for a family, either. (Ha, though sometimes I long to have a 8-5 to go to...!) The new-parent thing is hard for all sides, requiring a bit more understanding and love from all parties involved.
Thank for the post, Kate. Absolutely wonderful.
even though we live in this 'rawr, i'm a woman world' men, especially daddy's are so vital. irreplaceable. babies make that shockingly clear.
Oh my goodness, this brought tears to my eyes. I was fine until this line.
Perfect.
This post should be given to every man before leaving the hospital. While I know my husband works hard during the day sometimes I would give anything for an 8-5 job. Motherhood NEVER stops. I'm not complaining...am very happy I am staying at home with my babies...just need to say it sometimes.
My husband has been out of town all week. I'm exhausted emotionally and physically and feeling so guilty about my impatience with my toddlers. Your post gave me some validation for all my feelings at the moment. It is nice to know I am a human.
Thanks,ashley
DAds everywhere need this.
Thank you!
Since my second child, he has been exactly as you describe a good husband and father should be. He scoops up his sweet girls as soon as he enters the door, not caring one bit if the tiny one spews her recent mama snack on his crisp shirt.
If expectant moms will help prepare the dads, it will help them transition alot smoother as well. Communcation is even more important with the arrival of a new life into the home as it was when it was just the two of you.
Jennboree and others, you beat me to it: all day today I wanted to write an addendum, noting that I feel for the shellshock of new dads, and for those in typical situations, the added anxiety of being in a provider role (even if it's temporary).
Having a baby is an adjustment for everyone. But to honour their wifely partners - who go through the chemical, the hormonal, the breastfeeding, the bulk of the sleep deprivation and insecurity and learning curve - this is the job of new dads. And if they can come into being, go through their own transformation into idolized DADDY! and find their place with all the love and gentle touch a new mama needs, then all the better.
Cuz when they do, they are a life preserver, our babydaddies, inspiring the feeling of having won the love jackpot.
Which beats the demoralization of nosleep, happily, into an irrelevant pulp.
Besides, I remember my career life. It was a lot of supercool people, clicky shoes, long coffee breaks, invigorating brainstorming, addictive learning, fascinating and challenging mentors. And hard work too, and crappy days. But I think with motherhood it's the isolation that gets you (and the lack of personal hygiene). And the sheer intensity of personal stake, and singular, lifelong responsibility.
Good, but intense beyond anything any career can match. Anyone?
Thank you! Now off for some personal hygiene ;)
i can remember back to those baby boot camp weeks and months when my husband would come home and i'd cry that i hadn't been able to get a damn thing done. he'd take our pnut (who really wanted nothing to do with someone not lactating) up in his arms and say "you've kept someone alive for another day; it's enough."
now at age 2 she is her dad's girl as much as mine- and they adore each other.
i don't even think my 'career' days can compare to this- this is vocation, my life's calling, what fulfills me, is woven into my being. while i don't doubt that for many their career is their vocation, mine wasn't. it was easy for me to let it all go when i was there, let alone left for the day. now, i barely can go a minute without considering my child in some sense or another.
what an awesome post, kate. the happiest of anniversaries to you and justin.
I think I will make my partner read this.
Thankyou, your writing is superb.
BUT (and it's a big one) at the end of the 12 hours, I clock out. I go home, and these pseudo-children of mine are nowhere to be found. True mamas don't do that, and I think that's where they pull ahead of any career I or anyone else can think of.
All that to say: I want to be my mum when I grow up. She was a nurse until she had my first brother, and has been the best-ever SAHM ever since.