From Tohellwithit – My Love/Hate Relationship With My Son

I love my son.

I hate taking care of an infant.

Essentially this tiny person who has moved into our house is everything a tyrant would be sans malicious intent—a very sleepy, whinny, messy tyrant. He wants his pacifier, but he doesn't have enough control of his muscles to A. get it in his mouth, and B. not knock it out of his mouth with his flailing hands.

Every 30 seconds I'm like: Just calm down, open your mouth, and take the pacifier. I know you want it. You know you want it. You're just going to get angry if you don't take it, so take it already.

No, you're not going to eat. Mommy just spent 40 minutes feeding you 10 minutes ago. Right now you need to take a nap. Go to sleep.

Did you fill your diaper? Again? Are you kidding me?

Why won't you go to sleep? You're three weeks old and you've been awake for seven hours. That's not normal. I can see in your face how tired you are, so why are you fighting this? Just go to sleep already!

Oh, NOW you want your pacifier? Sorry, I can't find it because of the hundred times you dropped it on the floor it finally got lost. Way to go, kid.

Cry it out.

My son Toby dreaming tyrannical thoughts.

From the blissful state of Tohellwithit,

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From Tohellwithit provides an optimistic pessimistic view on life, love, and all the things that ruffle our feathers from the mind of author C.W. Thomas.

World, Meet My Son

My son has arrived! He weighed 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and was 22 inches long. His name is Tobias Alexander (when I'm mad at him), but most of the time we just call him Toby.

If I could use one word to sum up what I witnessed as my wife labored and gave birth, it would be strength. I saw my wife do the miraculous. I saw her push past limits I never knew she had. I saw two midwives watch stunned at not only the long, hard labor she endured, but the steadfast, resilient, determined, way she handled it with no meds, no hospitals, and after 24 hours of no sleep.

Several times the midwives made remarks like, "Your pain threshold is unbelievable," "You haven't complained once," and "I wish more women handled labor like this."

They were in awe. I was in awe. I've never been more honored to call myself her husband than I am today.

My favorite moment.

Toby was doing fine until his head emerged. His right hand was trapped behind his head by his umbilical cord that was also wrapped around his neck. There were a few moments of worry as the midwives worked to get him free of his little tangled mess.

When he finally came free of the birth canal, the midwives tried to get him to breathe, but he wouldn’t make any noise. They cleared his nose and mouth of fluid, but he still wouldn’t suck in air. 

Dani started praying out loud, “Dear Jesus, help Toby breathe.” The midwives said, “Talk to your baby. Let him hear your voice.” “Breath, Toby,” Dani said. “Come on, Toby.”

That’s when I leaned down real close to him and said, “Hey Toby. This is your daddy. You need to breathe buddy.”

And at the sound of my voice he inclined his head to me and squeaked for the first time.