The Dadda Reflections - Being a BAMF Father: 2015

We made it!!! We kept Bardot alive for a whole month! And we didn't kill each other in the process!

I fell asleep on top of Spirit, Bardot fell asleep on top of me. Spirit: WTF!?

After the first month of life obliterating alterations, we finally realized why people tell you how old their infant is in months for the first 2 years, it isn't that the infant survived that long, but that the parents survived those months. My eyes have been opened to this new world, new paradigm, and I am celebrating that Kate & I are still in one piece.

I nearly died last Tuesday of a massive panic attack. We were driving to San Clemente to retrieve newly screened jerseys for our Coyote Running programs, and on the drive down Bardot spit up in her car seat. Kate was driving, I was in the passenger seat, our pup Spirit was along for the ride, and baby BAMF spit up, and it plugged her nose and went partially down her windpipe. The coughing sounded so strange, and when I looked at the mirror we placed on the headrest above her, she wasn't breathing, her face was red and eyes seemed to be bulging. I unbuckled, jumped in the back to unstrap her and when I got face-to-face with her the expression on her face broke my heart 1,000 times (and sent my panic into hyperdrive). I put her on my shoulder and burp patted her back until she coughed everything up, then used the suction bulb syringe to clear her nostrils.

Babies are resilient, I'm quite positive of that when examining the world's skyrocketing population numbers, not to mention the variance of conditions infants and toddlers and children are raised in all over our globe. And obviously, this probably wasn't a true life threatening situation. But holy crap, a little moment like that is quite sobering.

We had parental meltdowns #5 and #6 tonight. Double-meltdown #2. It's roughest when you don't feel like your partner is in your corner, i.e. you're both drained/wiped/depleted so nobody can pick up the slack for the other. I should be sleeping right now, I guess. Tomorrow is another day...

BAMF's first dress - thanks Auntie Ta'Mara!

How many cute faces can I make? Infinity. Plus one!

Was running out the door. Nope. Diaper needs changin'

Even asleep, she owns me.

Moment after the moment I realized I had a daughter. Oh F**K...

It's official. The thing the universe has been preparing me for all these years, creating life and becoming a father, it's real. No more dreaming about it. It's game time. I have a little BAMF on my hands.

Baby BAMF 'dunking' over me. AGAIN.

Being a new father, figuratively speaking I feel like I've been put into an NBA basketball game. I know how to play the game of basketball, I understand the rules and objective of the game, but I'm no basketball player, let alone NBA caliber player.

It's Game 1 (month 1 of fatherhood), and I'm being tasked with guarding LeBron James. Bardot is about as cute as LeBron is good at slam dunking over guys. ESPN analysts often say a younger (NBA) player sometimes forgets he's playing against LeBron and there's a split second of watching this unreal talent and boom, the young player gets dunked over. It's a highlight reel, SportsCenter Top 10 in your face dunk. I have already lost countless hours this month just staring at Bardot, and she keeps dunking on me, and it just isn't fair. I feel so ill prepared for this. Again, I understand what I'm to do conceptually, but why do I have to guard the most important player in the league right outta the gate!?

Helping me sort the clean laundry.

Right now, I'm doing the laundry. It's not just any day mind you, the second half of the Super Bowl is currently happening (and it's a close game). I care more about having clean clothing, fresh burping cloths and swaddling blankets than I do seeing Tom Brady get a 4th title ring or Russell Wilson win his second Super Bowl in a row. This little 4 week old owns me. I'm kinda partial to her mom too, for what that's worth.

This month hasn't been a honeymoon, though. Amidst all the cute Bardot sleeping pics have been some tough transitional moments. It really isn't the lost sleep. It isn't my wifes' moments of melting down into the fetal position because she feels helpless, or the similar moment when I fell asleep on a hotel floor with Bardot crying on my chest. What's truly brutal are those moments when you're trying to be the best dad you can be and you're under fire. The baby's upset, mama's chemically imbalanced, we're all sleep deprived and trying to calm a tense situation down. PPD is real, and folks, it doesn't just affect the hormonally imbalanced woman. Both husband and wife are going through a meat grinder transition to a new life, new routines that start with pure chaos. The more I reach out and look for resources and support groups, the more I see nothing really developed for men. Reading the blogs, articles on parenting sites, experts and experienced parents all basically say, "guys, buckle up, suck it up, and be tough" to which I'm gonna say is complete bullshit. How do I become a better support structure for my family (and struggling wife) if I have zero support structures available to me, to better support her? Consider that a hypothetical question, but if you know of some resources I'm overlooking, holla at a dadda, yo! (UPDATE: one resource found -----> http://www.PostpartumDads.org/ )

No help for dadda? Whaaaaaaa???

At the very least, I'm creating this blog to be an outlet to explore what it is to be a modern day dad, facing the challenges and loopholes, struggles and triumphs of fatherhood courageously, tenaciously and with a lot of love and a little swagger. We're nearly at Month 1. And I have a beautiful and healthy baby girl. Mom is great most of the time, and I have had my moments of melting down too. I'm here to share them with anyone who's interested.

Peace out for this post. Now for some more cute Bardot, KAMF & Spirit pics...