I don’t know that I ever told anyone this before. Right after my first child was born, I was so very glad to be out of the house and get back to work. I never told my wife about this, or really anyone. I felt a little guilty. You’re supposed to treasure those wonderful bonding hours… and I treasured some of them, but not all of them.

I stayed home about a little over a week, maybe eight or nine days after coming home from the hospital. All day long I rocked and changed and played with that beautiful baby, spent time with my wife (what time there was), cleaned the house, washed clothes, cooked, did the dishes, all that stuff. Didn’t really mind any of it. I don’t mean it was great fun but it was ok. But, by the following week, I was so glad to be back at my job. Mostly because the office is known, comfortable, well-scouted territory. I know what to do there, been doing it for years. I feel competent there. Raising that baby was different; a new mom was running it, not me, and I wasn’t sure one hour to the next what to do or how to do it and whether I was doing it right.

That’s the part the new baby magazines leave out. It’s a conspiracy of lies, I think. Mostly lies of omission. All those warm, glowing pictures of new babies being cuddled by their moms and dads. All those stories about the how that little bundle of joy gives meaning to our lives. And all that stuff is pretty much right. The problem is they leave out the worry, the doubts, the change in your relationship with your spouse, the sex (or lack thereof), the fatigue, the cost, and the sudden and permanent loss of your old life. We pay lip service to all of this but do you know anyone who was brave and bold enough to say, part of this is wonderful, no kidding, this child is me, she is now my heart, and I love her like nothing else… but I gotta say, too, there is some regret here, some sadness and worry, and it’s going to take some getting used to. Who says that? How open and honest are any of us about those first few days and weeks and months?

Of course, I did get used to it; in fact, came to love my new life. Truly, almost all of it. But it took awhile, and I wish I could have read someone or talked with someone who said they felt a little like I did. Of course, I never talked with anyone either.

My other confession: After I went back to work, I couldn’t wait to get home every day. Really. Couldn’t bloody wait. Every single day, I was so glad to see them, to see them both.