Letterstomax 20210528

Dear Max,

You’re just over 5 weeks old now. I’d like to say time flies but it’s been somewhat grindy. I’m still surprised -I- we made it this far though. Still, every time the night comes and my 8.30pm shift arrives, I feel a wave of anxiety wash over me and my body slowly but surely tense up. I’ve been trying to work with your momma to figure out the reasons why. I still do think at the core of it it’s because I haven’t really come to accept my responsibilty towards you, an irrevocable, unchangeable one. For most of my adult life I’ve always been in a position where I could change my circumstances or undo decisions. I could move countries, move houses, change jobs when I didn’t want to do something anymore. But with you, there’s no undo. There’s this constant tension, a pressure waiting for your next attack of inconsolable crying. Not the kind I can easily handle, but the one that still doesn’t go away even after trying everything. There’s the having to deal with all of the nitty gritty things around you, like washing up bottles and making formula. I was looking at the formula pitcher I had just washed this evening, thinking oh I need to make more formula, what do I do? Usually I’d wait till it had air dried but there wasn’t any time. Do I wipe the formula pitcher down with cloth, but that could transfer germs from the cloth in, or do I just leave the water droplets from washing, which would go into the milk. Mundane concerns that I’ve never had to resolve. I’ve never had to do as much adulting and ignoring of what I feel is the proper way of doing things as I have had to since your arrival, and that just adds to the load as well. That load of doing something wrong, which would make you cry even more inconsolably which would then lead to even more tension and even worse, potential long term harm to you, and we’re the ones responsible for you. Irrevocably, finally, ultimately responsible for you. And I hate responsibility.

But none of that is going to change the fact that you’re here and I have to deal with it. To get used to you as just another item in my life, among the other things I have to deal with. And thinking of you as a thing, and not the one responsibility, seems to be rather difficult for me, because I want to do a good job for you and your momma.