Stop me if you've heard this before: the first 5 months of my son's life were the most exhausting days of my life.
I have been working remotely for over 5 years. It's a gig I'm blessed to have that gives me the flexibility to pursue other passions like making you read these articles and pontificating on YouTube.
The beauty of my remote working gig is that most of my meetings happen in the afternoon or evening in East African Time (EAT). However, Zion was born in America because if you can broaden your child's horizons early enough, I suggest you do so. Especially since Uganda’s future balances on a knife edge placated by concerts and alcoholism.
The advantage of being born in America was the level of care we got before and after Zion was born. Due to some system finesse by my wife, we paid a small insurance premium and reaped more than our money’s worth in exceptional pre and post-natal care. As I wandered through the hospital on the day we were admitted for delivery, I kept calculating my net worth on my fingers and toes. We did not pay an additional cent for the care we received. In fact, one of the nurses advised us to call them if we got any bills in the mail because we weren't supposed to pay a dime. Look at God!
The disadvantage of being in America is there is no criminally cheap Ugandan labor to help you take care of your child. Despite having family a 10-15 minute drive away, my wife and I had to hack it on our own essentially. And therein lies the exhaustion 😅.
My wife carried our son for 9 months and endured intense labor, so I inadvertently abdicated my human right to talk about fatigue. And my blissful work hours were no longer in EAT. The meetings I had at 7 PM EAT, were now earlier in the day in Eastern Standard Time (EST). This wouldn't be so bad if I weren't spending my nights acting as a milkman for Zion. My new management ran a tight schedule that required milk every 2 hours.
People tell you to “sleep when the baby sleeps” and I would ask them if they get home and climb into a sleep-inducing pod. I'd spend some waking hours preparing for the baby to wake up or simply dreading it. Then when sleep finally visited me, my new management would let out a squeal that cut through my rest like a green army truck blocking Wampewo Avenue (IYKYK).
For 5 months, my wife and I moved around the house like zombies. Only speaking to each other to ask about Zion. While whispering like 2 troublemakers at the back of the class: “Is he still sleeping?” “Does he hate the bassinette?” “Where is his head facing?” “Should we turn him?” “Are we bad parents?” “Did he spit up milk again?” “When will he sleep for more than 2 hours?” “Is he breathing?”
For all the stress and fatigue, his smiles and coos made it all worth it. I believe that baby cuteness is an evolutionary adaptation that drags you back to the delivery room emboldened by selective amnesia, hopes, and dreams.
I love my son.
Have a good week ✌🏾.
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