Episode 2: The (First) Shower

Liz needs a shower. Drama ensues. 

Transcript

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LIZ
Week 2. 

Aaaaaahhhhhhhh.... 

(BABY cries.) 

Mike! He’s crying! 

(Indistinguishable dialogue from MIKE) 

In the shower! I just got in—— Can you—? 

 (BABY cries louder) 

Why does he do this? Are they born with some sort of mom hygiene ESP? Every time I step in I—— Thank you honey. I just... I need this. Like need. I haven’t showered in... When did I last shower? I—— That’s disgusting. I can’t even remember the last time I— Don’t think about it. You’re here now. Try to enjoy it. 

(BABY cries.) 

Or get through it as fast as possible so you can relieve your husband who although well meaning can accomplish nothing! He’s missing the one true solution: BOOBS. Ugh! Don’t leak! Can’t I have one haven in this world where I no longer have to be sticky? 

 Have you tried bouncing him? He’s probably tired. He’s been up over two hours. Healthy Sleep, Happy Child says he’s supposed to be tired after two hours. The sleep book! They also say newborns sleep a LOT, so... Maybe we shouldn’t trust them....  

What about the diaper? Does he need a change? Well, a change of scenery then? Show him something! He is a person! He gets bored staring at those dangly toy things... mobile. That’s what they are called. My brain on three hours of sleep and no social—— yeah... Do something with him! Mike... he just ate! Don’t waste the bottle on—— I know it’s meant for him so it’s not a waste—— But, it takes twice as long to get half as much with the pump and he drains it in like two seconds. 

When he’s nursing it takes some effort so he feels more full. I’m so exhausted. 

He’s only going to scream louder if you give him the bottle! 

It’s not enough. It’s never enough. I know I should just switch to pumping completely but, it’s only week two. He won’t stop screaming already... I don’t want to change the 

one thing that seems to be working. Even if that’s the plan in the end. Even if it would be a miracle to have someone else wake up and feed him in the middle of the night. It would be suicide. In the long run. That’s what it feels like now. It’s harder than I thought. To let him go. I have this weird... I like being his food source. It’s something I can do for him. 

And that I can count on working. 

(BABY cries.)

I’m going to be out in like five minutes. I’m almost done! Have you tried bouncing him? * What about the diaper? Playing? Distraction? Just try to bounce him or—— Then you come up with something! I wouldn’t have to repeat myself if you would just try something! What do you want to do? Why do I have to come up with all the ideas? I don’t know what he wants. How could I know what he wants? He doesn’t even know what he wants! Maybe that’s why he’s crying! 

(LIZ starts crying) 

I am trying to relax! Think of something else. 

Think of something else. 

Think of something 

else. 

Anything. 

My son squeaks now. Like one of those dog toys. It doesn’t seem human, but at the same time, he’s talking to me so it is the most human impulse he could possibly engage in. He squeaks and roars, his trills and nonsense sounds that only I can understand—— And I do  sometimes. At least I think I do. I pretend I do. 

Locked in our own little made up understanding that doesn’t really exist or last too long * after it happens. Nothing is being discussed, but it’s everything. Sometimes I have this * sort of out of body experience — go with me here, sleep deprived remember— while all this is going on I notice that my thoughts are eerily silent. Usually I’m doing things, * before the baby, like at work or something, you know completing a calculation and * thinking, “hm I wonder if the rain stopped,” “Fries sound really good right now,” or “Did * I lock my car?” But now... nothing. Crickets. I mean not even. Eerily Silent. All of my * presence goes into making conversation with a being who by no fault of his own cannot * understand or contribute. But it is good for me to do that. Helps with the baby’s brain * cognition. If you act like the baby is holding up his end of the conversation. Pretending his squeaks mean something. So I’m talking to him. 

Eee eee eee. 

Really? 

oo ee ee 

You don’t say. 

EEEE ah EEEE! 

How interesting! 

He’s totally validated as a person and believes that he can join in the conversation. But for me... is this normal? To have lost my inner monologue? Should I see someone? I’m going to have to go back to work in... four weeks? Am I going to be... okay? 

Aaaaaahhhhhhh.... 

I heard somewhere once that the best ideas come to you when you are involved in something else. Like taking a shower. On a surface level, your brain is occupied with the mundane task of rinsing, lathering, and repeating and all of a sudden the subconscious is free to make connections it wouldn’t make if you were actively working on a problem. It’s like the parable-esque stories of Newton getting hit on the head with an apple and then suddenly everything clicks and he formulates the laws of gravity or, or, or * Archimedes getting into the bathtub and when seeing the water rise around him puts it together that the water he displaced must be the same as the volume of his submerged body. Eureka! They were simply living, watching an everyday process and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, it all comes together. Click. Inspiration. The Shower Principle. 

For the past two weeks, my whole life has been watching everyday processes. Eat, sleep, * poop. Laundry. Eat, sleep, poop. Does he need to eat, sleep, poop? Do I need to eat, * sleep——? Laundry. Never ending laundry. One handed. Hold wriggly baby in one hand. Support head. He can’t do that yet. Remember. Lift clothes. Drop clothes. Not baby! Clothes. In washer. Soap. Set, start. Next time put him down. 

He yells for the entire ordeal. Two minutes expand magically into heart wrenching eternity. It is done. Next process. 

When will it click? Where’s inspiration? Or just thought?!

Maybe you can’t wait for it. Maybe it’s the waiting that’s throwing it off. The active seeking. A watched pot never boils. But you have to be ready when opportunity knocks. Wow. Cliche Liz. I am tired. I should go to bed early today. 

(BABY cries.) 

We should get to bed early today. Has he been crying this whole time? How long have I been in here? What have they been doing? What’s going on? Is he hurt or just hungry? He’s probably just hurt——hungry! He’s probably just hungry. It’s been... a half hour. Urgh. What was I thinking? Was I thinking? I don’t know. I need to learn to pump. Then I can take longer showers... or just be separate from him for a little while. I went to the pharmacy for like a half hour the other day. It was... GLORIOUS. I was just amazed. Walking through the aisles, looking at rows of chips and endless stock of shampoo thinking, this is... heaven. I took longer than I should have to find the GasX. And of course it was chaos when I came home. But I glimpsed one moment of pure freedom. I was able to be myself again. Briefly. I kept looking around wondering when someone would realize I had escaped from my new existence and return me there. But they let me exist. I had to choose to go back. And I did. Maybe the thoughts will come back if I take more time for myself. Mike would like that. He would love to feed him. He’s always asking how he can help. And he tries. He really does. He goes back to work next week and if he could help in the night... but then how is he going to function in the day at work? Whatever, programming isn’t life or death. I’m caring for a human. And... I need sleep. My head hurts. 

Maybe when you aren’t worrying over it, you’re able to make connections. Maybe the Shower Principle means you can only think in the shower. 

(The faucet squeaks as LIZ shuts the water off.)

(The screech of a shower curtain. Two footsteps climb in.  The squeak of a faucet. A rush of water. )

MIKE 

Week 2. Hey bud! I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you doing? Missing Daddy? 

(BABY cries.) 

Hey, hey... that’s no way to be. 

I got him Liz! I got him. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know I’m not the one you want to see. Bags under the eyes, scratchy face, seeing me just change diapers in the middle of the night... I must look like a monster! Boo-ga-dah boo-ga-dah! 

(BABY cries louder.) 

Uh... okay. Bad choice. 

STOP! 

(Making the noise) 

Vvzzw... Rewind. 

This is not the Daddy you were looking for. 

(BABY wails) 

Shhh. Shh! Okay just—— Shh! 

(Clasps hand over BABY’s mouth.) 

Okay, that doesn’t look right either. Got to keep the airways clear but could you be a little quieter? Little man? Please? For mom? 

(LIZ’s indistinguishable dialogue) 

What? Bounce? Okay I’m bouncing, I’m—— Diaper? 

Nope it’s not—— what? I can’t hear you! Take your time. It’s your time. I’ve got it. I’ll just get a bottle and— 

Okay I won’t get the bottle. 

I was just trying to—— Liz. Liz! This is not going to work if you won’t even let me try anything! I don’t want you to have to rush. Can’t you just pump again later? Liz? 

Don’t cry. It’s okay. 

Take the shower, Liz. You need this. We need you to do this. We need you to take care of you. Just... take as long as you need. Let’s just... 

What else can I try? I—— Let’s see. 

(Baby WAIL) 

Come on Man. Have a little faith. We are going to figure this out. I mean, just logically you have to exhaust yourself sometime! 

I’ve never worked on something, with someone who just...works so hard against his needs. I know you’re a baby and you’re just learning, but it doesn’t make any sense. You’re tired right? We’ve isolated that this is the problem and so you should just go to sleep. I mean there’s a whole youtube genre dedicated to babies falling asleep in crazy places, mid spoonful even! Aren’t you tired man? 

My parents used to tell stories of me, my whole life, being this super chill baby. They’d just say “Go to sleep,” and I’d do it. I was not expecting this. 

(BABY cries) 

I know, I know. Try something. I’m the one who is supposed to be teaching you and here I am lecturing. Complaining. Pleading. I know you can’t understand. I know that’s not going to help. I have to at some level. But I still do it. 

I can’t believe I clamped my hand over your mouth. I love you. 

It was two seconds okay, but my natural impulse was to reach out and... 

I’m not unintelligent. Why did I do that? Sometimes in the moment you just— it was an idea. We are trying again. Move on. 

I didn’t think it would be this hard to communicate. I mean I think it’s harder than talking to an adult. And that’s saying something. I’ve a lot going for me, but I’d much rather talk to a computer than a person. I keep in touch with only a few good friends. That’s how I knew that your mom and I... Talking came so easily with her. At the beginning. When we had enough sleep. 

Is there a way I can ever succeed? Despite all my good intent, all of the different 

strategies I try, I’m failing. I... This is... the worst. I’m not proud. Okay? But I definitely steer clear of the stuff that I just, by no fault of my own, can’t do. Research papers. Motivational speaking. Sports. And this... we can’t return you. I don’t want to, ok. I’m not going to give up on you. You are my son. I just think it’s prudent to recognize that my inclination is to... quit. 

I mean, who wants to be faced by their failure every moment of every day? You’re going to get easier. You have to get easier. We all grow up. 

Or I’m going to put it all on Mommy. 

I hate that. I know I shouldn’t. But the need, it’s hard to resist. And I... It’s the worst part of me. The second worst part is knowing that I know I’m going to do it, but will probably do nothing about it. 

This is getting dark. Yeah. 

Let’s move on. Here. You like bouncing right? Let’s try that. 

Let’s talk about something else. You’re okay. He’s okay, Liz! You’ve got to give your mom a break little man. Just a little one. Now and then. She’s a person too you know. A great person. The BEST person. You and I agree there. 

Besides. I’m not so bad. 

(BABY continues to cry) 

I know that’s hard to believe right now... 

At any rate, as much as we each want to spend 24/7 with Mom we can’t. She’ll implode. 

It starts with the sweat pants, then the scraggly hair, then the skipping sleep and meals and showers... 

Wish she would take care of herself. Not because, you know, the hair or the look or whatever. Your mom is beautiful. Sweat pants or all dressed up and ready to go. I don’t love Mommy for her makeup. I mean we love her so much, right? So much and she should get the best treatment, you know? Not just give up everything. Like she deserves a shower every. Single. Day. Of all the humans in all the world. 

I mean it’s just plain decency for every human. One daily shower. We can give her that! What d’ya say? Don’t you think? 

Out cold. I’ll take that as a yes. Good work son. Good work. 

Now let’s get comfortable... 

(MIKE sits. Moment. BABY cries.) 

Ok. Never mind. No rest for the weary. I can keep talking. Bouncing. Let’s keep talking. More... 

Why doesn’t she think she deserves it? Does she forget? I forget. But even if I didn’t, I can’t force her to take care of herself. But she takes care of us. No problem. So anyway that’s why showers are important. And even though I don’t have boobs, Dad time can be okay. Mommy’s going to let me give you a bottle someday right? Will you take it is another question... 

Mom tried to give you a bottle a few days ago. Not your mom, my mom. Nana I guess. That still feels so weird. Your mom hadn’t slept for more than four hours in two days so we were trying to give her a little rest, me too, so my mom and dad, Nana and Pop, were taking care of you and you needed food. As you do. All the time. So what did your loving grandparents do? They gave you a bottle, mom’s pumped milk, and you even took it another miracle! And we slept. But when we woke up and Mommy heard about this... Son, I’ve never seen her so upset. What did she expect them to do? Wake her up? 

‘That milk was for emergencies’ she said, ‘How could they do this without asking?’ she said. 

‘You needed sleep,’ I said, ‘Urgently’ I said. 

But... Nothing I said... Nothing I say... She does so much... All right. If I’m honest, she does most of the care. Your care. I mean breastfeeding, after carrying you all this time. It affects her day to day more. And she’s good at it and she researches, don’t ask me when, and she makes plans... but I’m here. My parents are here. She can use us. I mean, I guess I could do more research, strategize, whatever. But I mean... that’s not the only way to parent. I’m not... her you know? And that’s ok. I’m a good dad. For a couple weeks in I think I’m doing ok. 

I couldn’t be a single parent. I have no earthly idea how they do it. Super humans. Sometimes... you just need someone to pass off to. Adults know when to give up. Babies have determination like no. other. 

Liz could. I think she thinks she can single parent. Maybe she wants to. I don’t know. Does she realize she’s cutting me out? Don’t I do that enough? Does she have to encourage it? And she’s going to be a pumping mom. That was the plan right? Maybe that’s changed and I just haven’t been updated. I get it. When is there time to counsel with each other? We’re in survival mode. And everything the other chooses has to suffice. Lately I’ve just been wondering... Am I a partner or a subordinate? 

Okay? I’m tired. And... I don’t want to research every decision to qualify to help. My brain... is... tired. It’s a lot and we still are recovering, recuperating. We’ll figure it out. It’s not failing if we don’t know how to do everything right, right when it comes up. 

I wish she hadn’t said those things to my parents. Things she says to me. Steamrolling. I mean I took the child care class with her. Yes, just one, but I was there contributing, adding my two cents, thinking about what it’d be like to be here where I am right now and what decisions I’d make. But now we’re here. We didn’t know. We didn’t talk about what is now coming to the main arena. I mean how could we? There are millions of situations and possibilities for squabbles and struggles, how could we know which would be ours? 

They talked about kids personalities, temperaments? in the class. I’m not going to lie, I was praying for the easy baby. We got you. The one we (must) need. 

I just don’t think there is a way to prepare for this. I don’t think there is one class in the world you could take, I don’t think that whatever number of books you’ve read helps. I think you just have to try it. To live it. To learn from it. 

And not let your weaknesses get in the way. 

Easier said than done right? 

I don’t want to be the babysitter. I’m your Daddy and even though I’m failing and I can’t be here always, I want to. I want to keep trying. I’m trying. If you’ll let me. Both of you.