No one told me newborns make nighttime noises. All night long. They gurgle; they pant. They keep Daddy awake. One night I was on baby duty and Jenna’s breathing slowed. I leaned my ear onto her mouth to see if she was alive. When she burbled and panted, so did I. That’s when a tsunami of sobriety washed over me. We’re in charge of a human being!
I don’t care how tough you are. You may be a Navy SEAL who skydives behind enemy lines. Doesn’t matter. Moms have thirty-six weeks of reminders elbowing around inside them. Dads, our kick comes in the gut later. But it does come. And for me it came some years ago, in the midnight quiet of an apartment living room, as I held a human being in my arms.
