My Life as a "Stay-At-Home" Parent.
It all started one day in September. I was in the basement getting ready to watch some pre-season football after a long day at work. I was just getting settled in when I heard a loud bang upstairs. My girlfriend, Maizy, was shouting for me to come upstairs. She had something to show me.
Prior to this moment my life was cruising along on auto pilot. I was working for the Government, making the most money I had ever made in my life, I felt like I finally had achieved some sense of normalcy in my life. My job entailed talking to disabled Veterans about their healthcare benefits, and to be honest I was having a rough time of it. It was a miserable existence. Going to the cubicle each day, strapping on a headset, and throwing myself to the wolves on the phone queue. The amount of abuse a customer service representative takes over a phone line is bordering on the ridiculous. Without going to deeply into it, it is a miserable existence. This is a career for some folks, they do this for twenty or more years in a row. I was heading into my sixth year of doing this. The only thing that kept me going was that yearly raise. Then one day I realized, that with my increased income came increased expenses, and in the end I was just another hamster spinning in the exercise wheel of a mediocre life. I couldn't picture myself doing this for another twenty years, but I was resigned to the belief that this was the best I could achieve, and that I should be grateful for what I have. My life needed a slap in the face, and this was just the ticket. As John Lennon said "I just had to let it go" I would no longer be riding on the Merry-go-Round.
It turns out that Maizy had been feeling as if she might have been pregnant for a couple of weeks leading up to this. She kept it to herself, I assume so as not to cause any undue worry. Obviously, I am not a woman, so I have no true grasp on what it must be like to find out that you have a living being growing inside of your body. It's a lot to try to wrap your head around. I generally feel strange about my own existence, much less if a baby suddenly appeared in my belly. I am in awe of the Universe. I didn't use to have this feeling when I was younger. It's hard to find words to explain what the difference is. I feel very tiny in the grand scheme of it all. So, I don't blame her for wanting to be sure.
The loud bang I heard was the sound of Maizy slamming her head into the medicine cabinet after jumping up in shock at the sight of that little blue + sign. One minute I'm getting ready to kick back and watch a football game after a long day, the next I'm trying to plan out the rest of my life, because we had a baby on the way. I don't remember my reaction being the typical big drama moment that is portrayed on television so often. I remember feeling excited, shocked, and concerned all at once. It came very unexpectedly, which I imagine is how it goes down for a decent amount of folks. The next 9 months would be an amazing journey. I was being pushed far out of my comfort zone, and being forced to live some life. I felt like I was fumbling around the dark doorway of life, looking for the switch to shed some light on what was in store for me. My whole life, I have always just jumped into the next situation. I am not a planner, I don't think of the consequences, I just jump in and hope for the best. This approach to life has presented its challenges, but good things have come of it as well, this being one of them.
There were plenty of decisions to be made. In previous conversations we found that we both agreed that one of us would stay home with our child should we ever have one. Maizy insisted on keeping the sex of the baby a secret, she wanted to be surprised the day of the birth. She introduce the idea of using a Dula and midwives, and having a natural birth. She wanted to do it drug free. Basically all of these concepts that I was completely unfamiliar with. I think it needs to be said that I am a father of three actually. I have two sons from a previous marriage. They were both born via cesarean section, in a hospital. When my first child was born, I didn't study anything about it. Maizy and I studied every aspect of natural birth versus the traditional hospital birth that most people opted for. We viewed documentaries on the subject, read books, weighed the pros and cons, and without getting to deep into the politics of it all, we chose a natural birth.
Maizy is not a hippie, but she has what I like to think of as an "organic-ness" about her. All of these concepts were new to me. She was serious about making this as natural as possible. I deferred all decision to her. She was carrying the baby after all. I didn't feel that I had much Veto power on decisions regarding pregnancy. If she was going to have to quit drinking and smoking, subject herself to be poked and prodded week in and week out, and just live in the general physical discomfort that I was witnessing, she deserved to do it her way. For the next nine months we learned a great deal about one another. A pregnancy has a way of bringing a couple closer together. Something about that connected feeling, as if all three of our energies were intermingling. It's hard to explain in exact detail, but for me it was an overall feeling of connectedness.
The only decision left for us was who was going to stay home with the baby. Maizy made the most money, and actually doesn't despise her career, so the duty fell to me. I was happy for the chance. My previous marriage was doomed to failure due to a number of factors. I was 19, in the Marine Corps, and never home. I didn't actively participate in a family dynamic. I just sent money home. Needless to say, the marriage did not survive. This would be the first time that I could be home with my child and really have a hand in raising her. I saw it as a second chance to be a real father. I'm still trying to mend old wounds with my sons, still struggling with the guilt of being a mostly absent figure in their adolescence. Guilt can be a heavy burden. The idea of being a Dad and that's it. You ask me what I am, I say a Stay-At-Home Dad. It's as simple as that. My major is Fatherhood. I was getting a D minus, but I'm upgrading that to a strong C. I had been making significant progress with my boys, and this could only bring us closer together. It may not always be simple, and difficult conversations need to be had, but in the end, I'm still their Dad.
With all the major decisions made, and 8 months of all that comes with being pregnant, it was time. I was getting ready for work when Maizy's water broke. 4 weeks early. Our baby was coming whether we liked it or not. It was the middle of April, the 16th to be exact. Witnessing a live birth, it's a surreal experience. There isn't time to be worried. Only to support and encourage. Maizy spent the entire day in labor, and by rush hour we had a baby girl. It's been a year and a half and I have not spent one day without her since then. We named her Penelope Jane. She is a spirited individual to say the least. The last 16 months have been exciting, exhausting, inspiring, and educational. This is not a job for the weak of heart. Patience is a must, understanding is helpful, and compassion is a requirement.
When I told my co-workers and family about my plan to become a stay-at-home parent, I received mostly negative reactions. I think this may have been the beginning of a major revelation for me. The saying "what's good for the Goose, is good for the gander" took on a whole new meaning for me. No one wants to hear what doesn't seem normal to them. According to the recent Gallup Poll, 92% of the population answered Yes to the question "Do you believe in God?". George W. Bush was elected president. Twice. I don't fall in line with those folks. In my own experience most people I have encountered seem to think that the traditional Mom stays with the baby and Dad goes to work arrangement is the way it should be. My own Mother told me "I think you're crazy" after hearing of my plans. She couldn't understand why I would give up my job at the VA. I see her point to an extent. Our personalities are different though. I like excitement and change. I like experience. Is it possible that I'm just not a 9-5 Monday through Friday clock puncher? I submit that it is just the opposite. Albert Einstein said : "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." I actually feel as though I finally stopped banging my head against a wall, and now that the concussion is cleared up, I can see clearly again. I could give you all sort of stats and opinions and trains of thought on the subject. Bottom line is, we feel better being with our kid at home. We just weren't willing to pay someone a ridiculous amount of money to watch our kid, while we took ourselves away from her. Not if we didn't have to.
I don't regret my decision one bit. The time I get to spend with my daughter is priceless, the meager wages I am missing out on are nothing compared to the moments I get to experience with this little girl. I wouldn't trade those moments for any amount of money in the world. The good ones anyway. You can keep the tantrums and sleepless nights. This is all new to me. Staying at home taking care of a baby full time is a job. Anyone that tries to tell you different is lying. It has its rewards and its drawbacks. It is mostly thankless in that the baby is the center of the universe, and the baby knows this. Private moments are harder to come by. It's tough to even wrestle one minute away to even go to the bathroom. That was the hardest part for me. Giving up my personal freedom. Just throw the idea of doing anything you want whenever you want out the window. It was a tough realization when I finally understood that I had to just give in completely. If I didn't, it would make my life much more stressful then it needs to be.
None of us asked to be born, so it doesn't go without saying that I take raising Penny seriously. I have to constantly remind myself that she has no idea about life. She just woke up one day and there she was. She had to have been completely overwhelmed. I find myself wishing I could remember what that sensation must be like. If only we could remember that far back, to the moment of our first breath. From Penny's reaction when she was born, I would say it is horrifying. Everything is a new experience from that first breath. Babies grow 10 inches in their first year. They gain three times their birth weight. It has to be the most amazing feeling to grow like that. You wake up one day and suddenly you have longer fingers, bigger toes, and hair on your head. Teeth start popping up from your gums, the pain is excruciating, but you cant tell anyone because you don't know how to talk yet. If your lucky, your parents love you and take care of you. I try to remember this whenever I am about to lose my mind because she has been crying all day.
Every minute of it is a learning experience. Trying to determine what the next step is. Which approach to take. Am I doing it right? How do I discipline a one year old? Should I discipline a 1 year old? Where did she learn to kick and scream like that? Why does she seem so strong? Why is she crying this time? What could be the problem? What's that smell? There is never a dull moment. I feel like I'm basically just a baby detective always trying to get to the bottom of something. I'm always concerned that I am not doing something right. I just try to be a good person and let that reflect onto her.
The way the public perceives you can be amusing at times. I noticed this especially during the early months of Penny's first year. She attracted so much attention when I took her out in public. First let me say this. I am an introvert. I like my personal space. I'm not the type of person that will just strike up a conversation with you out of the blue. I keep to myself. Having a 3 month old baby in a shopping cart, you are suddenly thrust into the limelight. Everybody wants to touch the baby, coo at the baby, talk about their own baby, and just generally be around your baby. I had to get used to having interactions with strangers very early on. Sometimes I would avoid walking down a certain aisle for fear of the mine field of conversations laid out in front of me. There were days where I wished I had a T-shirt that said "Leave me alone, and don't touch my baby." I don't know if it's just me, but I also notice that a large number of females seemed to tap into their maternal instincts when they would see me, a Dad with a baby and no mother around. I would be walking my baby, and the sunlight would be hitting her face, and you would get a lady shouting at you about how the sun is in your babies face. I felt like saying "Really? Oh my gosh, what should I do?" Once Penny was throwing a fit in the grocery store, and a lady nearby started singing just loud enough so Penny could hear it. She was mothering the baby from a far. I've had cleaning ladies touch her face right after they had been cleaning something with that hand. I've had octogenarian ladies with too much White Rain on pinch her cheeks and try to hold her hand. I've had about 100 people call her a boy, after a while I just quit trying to correct them. It's annoying, but it also makes me feel good to know that they all just want to show my baby some love. You can't have too many people love your baby.
I love the milestones I get to witness. The first time she rolled over. The first time she crawled. I thought she was never going to walk, then one day, she was walking like she had known how to do it all along. Right now she is learning how to talk. You can almost see the little gears in her brain turning as she sounds out words, and repeats everything we say. She recently discovered how to say "apple". Now every time she is hungry she looks at me and says "apple?" and points to her mouth. She walks around the house strumming guitars in their stands, singing an undecipherable song to herself. She loves Pink Floyd and Radiohead. Put some bluegrass on the stereo and she will dance you right out of the room. I'm not sure if I am raising her the right way, but the fact is I get to have a part in raising her. Right or Wrong, we have a job to do. I feel obligated to at least give her the best chance that I can. I may not always stick to the routine, or be the perfect parent, but I love her and I'm there for her. Once your a Dad, you lose a little bit of your identity. My kid's don't know me as Jeremy. To them I am just Dad.
