Where do I begin?

Has it really been a month since I posted last?  It seems like only a week or so ago.  Wow….

My wife has released some info on her site so I will continue here.  Our little girl was born at 8:20pm on November 8th, 2008.  She was 7 pounds and 3 ounces and 20 inches long.  Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, a nose and a mouth that can reproduce the legendary screams of the deadly Irish banshees.

So much has happened in the past month and then again when I think about it… so little has happened to.  Our lives have completely changed just like people told us that they would but I think I misunderstood.  I took those casual mentions of life changes as anecdotal and that those changes would be a little challenging but overall they would be good.  I think those people are laughing now.

What I should have taken them as were the dire warnings that the soulless husks of parents that were speaking to me meant them to be.  How was I to know?  Having a baby isn’t just challenging.  It’s hard.  I think of all the shitty people out there who have kids (but shouldn’t) and they survive.  But I think we’re just barely skating by on the edge of sanity in our house.

Yeah we have a baby and she is beautiful.  I wouldn’t change that for the world.  But she also seems to be defective in many ways.  Not in the physically retarded category luckily but there is something seriously wrong with her and I wouldn’t be completely against floating the idea of putting her up for adoption.  Yeah I know that makes me a bad parent.  You just deal with whatever happens and that’s that.  Bullshit.

I’ve tried taking everything in stride and being calm and being the one to try and make sense of everything and not panicking at every little thing.  And you know what it has gotten me?  Bitterness from my wife and more screaming from the baby.  She’s still in pain, nothing we try helps.  And I’m not sure how much more I can take.  Neither me or the wife have slept properly in month.  Oh that’s normal, get used to it.  Fuck you.  Most babies sleep most of the time and wake up long enough to eat and shit before drifting off to blissful sleep again.  Our girl has bags under her eyes that are as pronounced as ours because she’s so gassy that she can’t sleep.

The doctor is useless. Changing from normal formula to soy seems to have caused an allergic reaction that I’m told could have caused her through to clamp shut so she can’t breathe.  Oh, no big deal says the advice of a doctor.  If that happens just take her to the emergency room.  OK, perhaps the advice should be to fucking camp out in the emergency room for the next week because if that were to happen, there is no hospital close enough to drive to save a baby that can’t breathe.  It’s impossible.  But gee, thanks for the advice.  So now she’s on a special hypo-allergenic formula that costs even more money.  Guess what?  She’s still gassy.  Yay.

After a particularly tense night a few weeks ago I spent some time in the nursery sitting next to the crib and crying and telling her everything was going to be all right and that I would do anything to keep her safe and healthy.  Now I can’t stop myself from thinking horrible things about her when she keeps screaming for no visible reasons.  I get angry at her for screaming and pushing away her bottle and spitting out her pacifier and kicking her legs when I try and change her crap filled diaper.  I always thought I would be a good Dad.  Now I’m not so sure.  I hate myself for the things I think and the way I feel and I just want things to stop.

Things are finally getting to me and my mellow, easy-going personality is shattering and the bitter, hateful, angry person that always lurks just below the surface of my skin is starting to break through.  I hate that person.  I hate him so much.  I don’t think I should be anybody’s Dad.  I feel like an asshole for even thinking such a thing.  Probably because I am one.


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