The Size of a Daddy's Heart

As I write this, Peter, my 6 week-old son, is curled in my lap on the boppy pillow, a doughnut-shaped pillow you where around your waist (mostly for breast-feeding, I am told). Sam just went down for a nap, after Elise performed surgery on his new stuffed animal, also named Sam, a firefighting frog he birthed from Build-a-Bear last night courtesy of his triplet uncle and aunts. She sewed up a hole in his forearm. As Sam (the frog) was in surgery, Sam (the boy) talked him through it reassuringly and fed him strips of deli turkey from his own lunch.

We all just returned from a morning as the neighborhood 'hippie' family. We walked to Artigras, the annual Abacoa artfest. I use the term 'hippie' loosely. In south Florida if you're not pushing your kids in a McClaren stroller or dressing them in the latest $50 tee from Crew Cuts, you're probably considered a 'hippie'. Elise carried Peter in the Baby Bjorn and I had Sam in the back pack. We stopped and let him paint his own coffee mug.

Seems like a random opening to a blog, but 6 weeks ago, I could not have predicted what Monday, February 15th, 2010 would look like.

When we went to the hospital on Wednesday, December 30th, 2009, my mind and heart felt full. I had a beautiful wife and a wonderful son. I had no job, really and lost some sense of my identity and purpose, but, on good days, knew that I was still smart and capable, a good husband and father, and on a really good day, still knew that the world could be our oyster again someday soon. (don't worry, I have lots of really good days now :)

I was torn. My life and family felt full, complete. Sam was my world. I don't think I knew what I wanted in a son or a child (besides their health) before he was born and I didn't knew what it would really be like to be a father, but now that I had Sam, I felt like I had everything. He was, to me, the best boy in the world and everything a dad could ask or want from a son. He ran with me. He went to Starbucks with me and read "Cars and Trucks and Things That Go" with rapture while I read the NY Times. He went shopping for mom with me and always stayed close so I didn't have to strap him into a stroller or (God forbid) leash him like a hound. We had just celebrated his 1st 'real' Christmas and his 2nd birthday, and so I was having trouble figuring out how another child would fit into my heart or mind. I love Sam with every ounce of my being, so how could there be anything left for anyone new?

Maybe this isn't a new sensation and it is common to have felt this way, but I didn't want to have compromise my time with Sam. I know that seems selfish at the time and ridiculous in light of current events.

By now, you may have heard the story of Peter's arrival on our planet. Elise has started the medication to help speed along her labor. The nurse monitored her contractions from the nurse's station and, at one point, came in to check on Elise.

"How you holding up?" she may have asked.

"Good." I remember Elise has stood by this time and was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, cradling her belly. She was more comfortable this way.

The nurse commented that these were pretty serious contractions (in retrospect, Elise's tolerance for pain was much higher than either she or I had ever given her credit for). This was about 5 or 6 p.m. The nurse commented that her shift would be ending soon. She would wish us luck, suggesting that it wouldn't be much before midnight that the baby was born, though she said she would call down and see if the anaesthesiologist was available to administer the epidural to ease some of the pain. Then, she left the room.

2 or 3 contractions (maybe 10 minutes) later, Elise said the discomfort was too much and asked me to go get the nurse and see where the epidural was. I started for the door to rush the nurse's station, but thought better of leaving and pushed the call button.

The nurse returned. She said she would check to see where the anaesthesiologist was, but to call if Elise "felt like she needed to push."

One contraction later Elise felt like she needed to push.

Earlier in the day, we were talking about a friend who had recently given birth naturally, without painkillers. I told Elise, I couldn't do it. I couldn't handle seeing her in that much pain....

About halfway through, the nurse benched me. I had lost feeling in my arms from my elbows down...they were just tingling. When it was over, Elise turned to me and asked if she was okay. I lost it. I couldn't imagine her having to go to a place where she didn't know she was still okay.

But she was. Better than okay. We all were. The time was 7:01 p.m.

And now, 6 weeks later, I type with a baby curled in my lap. He smiles to me at midnight with a full belly, comfortable in my arms. We bunk together at 4 a.m. to give mom extra shut eye. He--just like Sam--grunts when he sleeps like a little piglet. Now I have two boys to run with. Two boys to climb mountains with. Two boys to read while I indulge in the NY Times and coffee. Two boys to help me shop for mom.

I completely underestimated the malleability of my heart. I had heard of the phenomenon, but didn't really understand it until I had experienced it for myself. How one's mind and heart expands as their family expands. I feel foolish to have worried that I couldn't love Peter as much as I loved Sam or Elise.