Member-only story
A New Dad
From diapers to trading desks, and dress shoes to sneakers.
My day starts at 3AM. The soft cries wake me from dreary slumber; a sleep that has not measured more than three hours straight since those cries were first heard. There is no movement next to me. No relief coming. The breast pump tubing has probably just started to cool in the fridge.
I lay awake with my eyes closed, begging for the cries to dissipate and disappear. They only amplify. A sudden shriek forces me from bed. Such violent sounds from a squirmy little man. I hush and shush next to his crib, the sweet six-week-old sending shrills mixed with soft wails in all directions.
Diaper Dad to the rescue. In our small New York City apartment, the mini-crib doubles as the changing table. I feel for the diaper’s sticky parts in the dark, trying to fasten the fresh one tight. Leaks have ruined many a night.
This Dad cannot afford that tonight. The trading floor beckons at 7AM and not a minute later. It is the first time this Dad has returned to work since fatherhood, and the first in the flesh since March 2020. If the little weeping prince does not settle soon, zombie Dad may book a trade the wrong way, or fall asleep at his turret.
Mommy stirs, offering to warm a bottle. I feel compelled to do it myself. Poor Mommy has to survive all day in our Midtown shoebox with this baby banshee. A bottle feeding is the least I can do.
The banshee and I forge ahead, into the kitchen, bouncing while we wait for the water to warm enough to heat the bottle. The running stream burns my fingers, while the baby’s cries billow into my ears. More hushing, more shushing, and more promises to break. The little man must know Daddy has to leave today. The neighbors probably hope I take this wailing warrior with me.
We negotiate positioning in the feeding chair. With one arm under my left and the other over my right, this beautiful baby beast finally agrees to attack his bottle. Deranged and demonstrative, his arms wave and smack against my chest and side. Halfway through the bottle they settle, while his eyes shut a little more after each sip. The sucking slows, the noises fade, and I drift away.
