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18 Weeks Old
Dear Myles,
They say it gets easier - they're all liars. They've been saying it for months. Every time I think I've got the rhythm, you throw me another object to juggle. I'm as tired as I've ever been. The other times in my 31 years of living when I claimed to be tired, I lied. Read the room and stop throwing us pins - in this circus, the clowns don't want to juggle. They just want to sleep.
You're four months old now. Biologically, you've just hit what they call a sleep regression. Even though I've read the science, my tired brain still can't understand why you would sleep less because you are growing and developing. The math ain't mathin; it's 1+1 = 3 all over again.
I used to look forward to nighttime, a respite for Mommy and me to watch TV or just sit there and have a conversation without you interrupting. But every day, as night descends, it's like the approaching winter in a Game of Thrones season - a looming dread and horror.
For a week straight at bedtime, you fuss, stir, and cry. We dance, jog, and squat, and you fuss, stir, and cry some more. We pass you back and forth gently, like a bomb threatening to explode if we put it down. You always seem to blow up in my arms. You're bellowing now, your cries echoing through the house. I hold you close to my face, nestling my lips against your ear, softly repeating over and over in your ears, 'It's okay, Papa, it's okay, Papa.'On the third night, I realize these words are for me, not for you. On the fourth night, I’m Googling 'Is it possible for a four-month-old to hate their father already?’
This is exhaustion. My showers have doubled in length, not because I’m dirty, but because I’m hiding. Scheduling work emails for 7 am because it's the only time I have to write them late at night. Holding you on my chest, learning to sleep with my feet up and back straight. Making sure to hang the car keys by the door, not on the bottle drying rack. I've never eaten this much fast food in my life – I now remember why people love McDonald's again; a Big Mac is poisonously delicious. We're on autopilot. One night, Mommy forgot to remove your socks during your bath. I'm surprised we haven't accidentally cooked in the bathroom.
I'm looking at your mother, wondering where she gets all this energy. She's doing it all and then some. This is what they meant by women were built for this - they weren't being metaphorical; they were dead serious. Your mother, I'm convinced, is half woman, half hero. As for me, I'm the sidekick who awkwardly rides in the sidecar, complaining they're tired but isn't the one driving.
I struggle with this level of exhaustion and fatigue, knowing that she is much more exhausted than I am. I feel a twinge of guilt about something so natural because it feels like I don't have an excuse to be tired. I mean, no one is looking at me every 3 hours, rubbing their hands like Birdman for food. I shouldn't play the tired Olympics, but it's hard when you've got the GOAT on your team.
I've found beauty in these tired moments though. As exhausted as we are, we're doing a damn good job at being parents, employees, partners to each other, and still doing our best to show up for others and ourselves.
If God is giving out raises, please forward Him our names. It's been hard but beautiful.
I'm as tired as I've ever been.
They tell you it gets easier, but I still think they're lying.
The only thing that's easy is loving you.
Love,
Daddy
And if you’re on Substack Notes, and enjoyed this letter, please hit that“Restack” button.
Let me know your thoughts:
Tell me about a time when you’ve been almost cooking in the bathroom kind of tired.
The image of Myles rubbing his hands like Birdman made me laugh. What’s a a gif that makes you laugh?
Parents, and animal lovers chime in too, did they really lie? Does caring for someone/something get easier?
What's the 'easy' or beautiful part of your life, even when times are tough?
Ever felt like you had to explain or justify your exhaustion? Spill the tea!
Want more of Myles’ Letters?
The most recent one is Thank You, Wifey
Read why we decided to call Myles, Myles
Read about Our first Father’s Day.
Or how about one about his father’s hairline or lack thereof?
Aw! I felt a tinge of every emotion you were trying to communicate. I believe Myles has great parents! God is helping you both. Blessings 🙏🏽.
I was sure they were lying too. Part of it is not knowing when it will end, because you are in a dark tunnel of night with no light to go towards, and no idea how long you will be there.
It really does get easier though. I recall being blown away with our second, because we were physically so much more exhausted, but mentally, much better. I think it is the perspective, knowing it doesn't last forever, compared to being sure that it will never end.
I wish you luck, and hope you see the light approaching soon. Hard? Yes. Worth all of it? Absolutely.
I will keep your family in my prayers. It always helped me to realize that every person with older kids was rooting for us, whether that was communicated verbally or with that knowing smile that said, "I feel you, don't worry about looking dead on your feet, we are all fighting for the same thing." Good luck!