caleb chronicles: i'm so tired

Please do me the courtesy of hitting the play button on the YouTube embed before you start reading this. Much like the last thoughts shared about Master Caleb, there's plenty of words to draw upon from our rock heroes of the past. At time of writing Master Caleb has just fed, has a fresh diaper strapped and stands (or lays) a couple of days shy of four weeks. In between sentences, my eyes shift over to he and his Mamaroo where I can see him fully approving of the gadget's calming rhythmic movements (he is sleeping). Four weeks! I'm learning quickly as a new parent that there are an infinite amount of non-milestones and achievements to celebrate. But let's be clear, this one is a win for his parents, mostly Emmelle. Four weeks of keeping him alive. That feels like something significant considering where we started weeks ago. The beginning of all of this? Well, Emmelle's contractions began in the wee hours of a Monday morning - midnight to be more precise - and from that point until we rushed to the hospital after 9am that day, we individually dozed off for about 20-30 minutes. After admittance into the delivery ward, the waiting game began. We waited. And waited. I received a suggestion over text from my sage sister, Colonel Mustard, to get some shut eye as it would be a long night. Too much anxiety, anticipation and adrenaline. Impossible. Fortunately (and much more importantly), Emmelle did in fact snooze for a bit. And then we waited some more. And late on Monday - perhaps around 11pm - the delivery began. Monday left us and turned over to a new day of week, a new date on the calendar to perhaps call Master Caleb's very own. 12:52am. He arrived. There are tears, laughter, joe, awe (There's a whole lot of this, but I want to talk about how tired we are). A few hours pass before we are finally admitted into our room. It is after 5am now and the nurse offers to take our youngling off of our hands for a couple of hours so we can get some sleep. We gladly accept, and sleep finally comes - just about 30 hours after the labor began and roughly 45 hours since our last material sleep. And little did I realize that would be our rude and abrupt introduction into parental tiredness - relentless and seemingly everlasting. Everyone tells us it gets better. It will, it must?? The real sacrifice, as with all things as parents, comes from Emmelle. She is the one at home with the littly guy for four consecutive months. She is the one that can provide sustenance in the middle of the night and soothe his growing needs. And she is the one that does this around the clock. I, on the other hand, have been back at work for the last couple of weeks and have to miss one or two feedings per night, depending on how mischievous he chooses to be with us on that given night. When I am at my most useful, I will take young master downstairs so Emmelle can have some short but continuous sleep, void of his small cries and fussing. But there's a rub there too. Unless we have specific bottle feeding plans during that block of time, I quickly usher Master Caleb up the stairs to his food source right when he demands it. Like I said, abrupt. There is no lead time, there is no warning. All of your nerves are tested in those moments. "I'm so tired". So tired. There is another Beatles lyric that comes to mind right now: "It's Getting Better All the Time". Right? Thanks for stopping by.