Meet Emma 🙂
Born September 4th at 7:41 a.m.
Weighing in at a whopping 8 lbs 13 oz., which we didn’t fully take into account at first.
Becoming a dad (a crash course)
That morning, Callie, Emma, and I lay in Callie’s recovery bed in our nice but tiny hospital room.
Emma slept quietly. All felt peaceful. We survived the first 36 hours of parenthood. We were going home tomorrow. Callie was healthy. Emma was healthy, so we thought.
A nurse came in and did basic vital checks on Callie and Emma. All looked good. She asks Callie the standard list of wellness questions to make sure she wasn’t showing signs of postpartum depression.
The nurse asks if Callie has any anxiety. I make a quick, not-very-good joke about Callie having anxiety about the procedure she just went through.
Callie gives me that look. I was in trouble.
The nurse asks Callie another standard question: “Do you feel safe at home?”
“Most of the time,” Callie says.
The nurse’s jaw drops, and she looks at me.
Then she realizes Callie was joking.
I thought for sure I was going to get pulled into a side room and interrogated at some point.
Soon after, the nurse, who looked about 22, had to take Emma into an exam room for a few simple, standard tests so we could go home the next night.
I waited outside the glass windows while they unwrapped, poked, and prodded our little girl.
The dad next to me was nervously pacing around and chewing on his fingernails. His baby was too small. They were about to do a 1.5-hour examination on her.
Our nurse came out looking like she had just taken a deep breath to deliver bad news.
“She failed her blood glucose test. She needed to score a 50; her score was 39.”
That meant Emma wasn’t getting enough food.
Low blood glucose can cause long-term brain damage.
They rush-order a more reliable test.
It comes back at 49, one point below passing.
This starts a fire drill.
They require babies to have 3 passing blood glucose tests before leaving the hospital to avoid going to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).
Our baby isn’t getting the nutrition she needs — now it makes sense why she seemed so hard to wake from her naps to feed.
I stay behind the glass windows watching our baby finish her exam.
The nurse goes to tell Callie the news.
Soon, they bring Emma out of the exam room, and I follow them to our hospital room.
What I saw next, and what I felt, will forever be seared into my brain and heart.
I enter the room. Callie is bawling.
She feels like a failure. She feels like she’s not providing Emma with what she needs to thrive — to survive.
Callie starts trying to feed Emma with a level of love and desperation I’ve never seen anywhere.
In that moment, I understood what it means to be a parent.
I instantly understood why parents worry so much about their kids, and why friends I know who have had kids seemed more mature and less bothered by everyday minutiae.
You spend 9+ months creating life, only to realize that it could be taken away at any moment.
Life is good and precious
It’s now been one week since that day.
Emma is healthy and happy, except when I take too long to change her diaper (meaning more than a pit-crew speed of 7 seconds flat) and she’s ready to eat (which is ALL THE TIME).
Her next weigh-in is Friday.
Love your kids, if you have them.
Love your spouse, if you have one.
Love your parents, if they’re still alive.
Love those close to you.
If you have the capacity, love those far away.
It’s the real purpose of all this other stuff we do.
Now, gotta go. Emma is calling…
—Matt
P.S. Starting this week, I’m back to sending two newsletters per week (Tues & Fri). Lots to discuss. Talk soon.