Anyone who knows my wife and I has heard us go on and on about how hard our first child, Rylan, was as a baby. They may think we are exaggerating, or trying to gain undue sympathy, but the truth is, it was as bad as we make it sound! Rylan had what the experts call "colic" - or another name for something they really can't explain. American Heritage defines colic as "a condition seen in infants less than three months old, marked by periods of inconsolable crying lasting for hours at a time for at least three weeks. The cause is unknown." For Rylan, this condition lasted for eight months - about the same time he began sleeping through the night! We literally could only go out of the house, in public, for a very short period of time, as he would cry constantly. It's funny because we would hand him off to someone who believed they could calm him only to get him handed back after a few minutes. The experience was terrible. At one point (half-jokingly) I told my wife that we should just divorce, that way one of us could be rid of the experience 50% of the time. The complete experience was scarring. We vowed never to have kids again, dooming our first born to "only child" status for the rest of his life. Even years after Rylan's babyhood my wife and I still would get a bit nauseous thinking about having another newborn in our lives. (A QUICK DISCLAIMER - there were good times and laughter sprinkled in with the colic period. We stuck it out in the hopes that things would eventually get better.)
Seven years later, on May 12th, 2012, my 35th birthday, we were sitting on the couch after a fun day of birthday shenanigans. I still recall the moment vividly: the beautiful orange sunset lighting up our living room, my butt planted on the far right recliner of our couch, the TV on, my wife and I chatting. At that moment an idea popped into my mind. This divinely inspired thought whispered to my lounging consciousness, "You aren't getting any younger. If you want another child, now is the time to do it." It felt right, even after a near decade of a family of three. I turned to my wife and said, "I think we should have another baby." To my surprise she agreed! After a month of dutiful attempts at procreating (which to me wasn't nearly as much fun as carefully protected non-germinating coitus - a story for another time) the pee-on-a-stick showed two lines and our lives began another evolution.
Nine fatigued-filled months later our daughter Leila was born. What was once something we vowed never to do again was now a shining moment for our family. She was beautiful and our feelings at the time are best summed up by what my son said: "This family needed a daughter". But with the ups come the downs. I initially took two weeks off from my work at MBC Law Firm to be home, then went back to work for two weeks, and then took an additional two weeks off. My wife shut down our salon for a little over a month and life seemed good. But then, on Easter Sunday 2013 (which happened to be my wife's 30th birthday), the crying began. The following week I was back at work and the salon was reopened. We had no idea what the ramifications of a second child would be. Everything had to be readjusted and relearned. I had forgotten how to care for a baby! Seven years erased all skill. The pressure mounted and my shoulders felt like they were dragging along the floor. I couldn't handle it. My mind raced and then shutdown - my whole being broke down into tears. I believe they call it a nervous breakdown. I sobbed in front of my wife and son who had never seen me behave like that before. I had no control over the emotion. It felt as though our lives were over - the only thing looming on the horizon was never ending stress. Luckily, I decided to see my therapist. After two sessions I came to understand that the trauma I had experienced from Rylan's baby years had never been dealt with and that I was applying that same trauma to a totally different baby. My angel of psychology helped me become aware of the fact that Leila was a MUCH easier baby than Rylan. I was also allowed to let some things go without worry: making a salad with every meal, Rylan playing more video games than normal, keeping the house spotless. With the right therapist, therapy pays off. I haven't had a nervous breakdown since. I love my daughter and could never imagine my life without her.
Reality is an eternal state of flux. The only constant is change. During my nervous breakdown I couldn't imagine things getting better, but they did, and quicker than I could have ever imagined. The stress is still here though. The responsibilities have not disappeared. But I've grown used to my new life - the old one now seems foreign. I am thankful for my lovely six month old daughter, my determined, strong, wise wife, and my smart, athletic, caring eight year old son. I am also thankful for the experience with him as a baby. It taught me that I could handle any curveball of poo poo that life may throw at me - maybe with a few tears and worried thoughts at first, but always on my feet in the end.
Oh, and by the way, a Hybrid Husband can cry, can give up, and be weak. Vulnerability is human, not female and constant repression of honest emotion leads to neurosis. If "men" could stop the Tough Act they would find a new way to relate to and enjoy life. Let us all stop aspiring to be gladiators and instead strive to be authentic.
Peace Out,
Nathan J.
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