Sunday, February 1, 2015

Baby Laundry Trumps the Super Bowl and Postpartum Depression Support

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...


This shoulder looks delicious.

Upset Bardot gets tag team kisses from Spirit & Dadda

A gorgeous day in Ventura (our first road trip)!

Practicing our yoga frog pose?

Mama on a peaceful morning

1 comment:

  1. Very eloquently put, particularly the analogy to being an inexperienced player going up against a master. I remember that feeling and the feeling of being helpless and lost and although I can't offer any resources to help you through it (I was given the "suck it up buttercup" advice as well) I can assure that you will get through it and when you look back it will seem like one blissful trip. Time has a way of stripping off the bad and leaving the memories polished and shiny. The only advice I can give is to remember that Bardot is not judging your performance and loves you no matter what you do (and is happy just knowing that her Daddy is playing in the NBA at all).

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