It was an awesome experience. From the moment the doctor sliced open my wife's abdomen to that enlivening second when we realized we could manage to keep the kid alive past the age of one.
I wouldn't trade it for the world.
And, oh, third -- it sucked really, really badly for both my wife and I all at the same time. However, we never told the media about it (of course, they never asked). And we didn't moan to friends and relatives about how irritating, isolating and depressing being a new parent can be.
That's not societally acceptable. You know, to say that being the parent of a newborn baby isn't the most joyous time of your life.After we brought our 10-pound, 11-ounce bundle of skin home, my wife's C-section incision got infected. Then her mother left. My parents came and went. The holidays ended. My wife, lucky enough to get three-to-four months maternity leave (way more than the privileged Mayer) was preparing to return to work. I remember my wife turning to me one evening when our 2 1/2-month-old was sleeping. She started sobbing. I asked what was wrong. She said, "Christmas is over. Everybody left. Now, here we are." I started crying as well. We would do this on occasion. Commiserate with one another about much it blew to be a parent. Here we were -- a 28-year-old and a 36-year-old -- living in one of the world's greatest cities. We were one-half block away from one of the most action-packed, hustling and bustling streets in urban America. Before our kid, we would roll down the hill to the corner of 21st and Valencia and do whatever we damn well pleased, for as long as we wanted to, as hard as we wanted to and with as much frequency as we desired. At home, we would do all sorts of things -- watch movies, have sex in the middle of the day, randomly decide to paint a room.