Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

 

Everything Changes

by

Matthew T. Lipson

4.2 : Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

I had twelve weeks of paternity leave.  Twelve weeks.  Reflecting back on the experiences of my first child, I was looking forward to walks, one sided conversations about whatever came to mind, visiting people and sharing the joy a freshly minted person brings.  This was not to be.  Every day was a struggle just to feed her.  Her cries a call to war.  A war for her survival.  Every day would be a battle just to feed her.  One feeding would take a couple of hours.  I knew she was hungry.  She was telling me she was hungry, but I was the last person she wanted to take food from.  Two ounces of breast milk took almost an hour, as I dripped it into her mouth with a basting syringe.  The war was epic and exhausting.  "Trust me, you want me to win," I would plead.  "If I win, you live."  By the time my wife came home, we would both be asleep on the couch.  My daughter on my lap.  In the end,  I did win.  I kept her alive.