When Cate was first born I was a young 32 year-old. I had been working as a strategy consultant and traveling Sunday night through Thursday night every week. I got that consulting job coming out of EDS where I was a financial analyst. The consulting gig paid me almost three times my EDS salary, and I lived the fast paced life of a traveling hired gun. I stayed and ate at nice places. I talked almost exclusively to highly-placed executives. I worked above the fray. I liked the job and was good at it.
Leading up to Cate’s birth I had taken about four weeks off from traveling so I would not miss the moment of her arrival. I had been working in Up State New York for a small telecom company doing strategy implementation and process optimization. It was long hours with high expectations, so coming home to down-time was both rewarding and maddening as Deb and I waited for Cate. When she arrived, we were shell shocked. We had been reading about parenting quite a lot, but we were completely unprepared.
I can recall one time in particular when Mac and Gayle were visiting us. It was early evening, Cate’s bedtime, Cate had eaten and was in her bedroom in her crib but she was decidedly not ready for sleep. Deb and I sat staring at the wall as Cate cried. We followed the recipe from our research: wait five minutes, check diaper, pat reassuringly, do not pick up baby, coo, leave, repeat after ten minutes. The minutes passed even more slowly as Cate continued to cry and Mac and Gayle continued to watch us, apparently as determined to let us parent as we were to do it. After about 30 minutes of this, finally Mac stood up, “If one of you all isn’t going to get that baby then I am.” It was a beautiful way to break the tension, and we gave in immediately. In general, we abandoned the notion of “crying it out” that night. We still understood the importance of letting Cate get secure in her crib without us there, but it was with more visits, more coo’ing, more patting, more rubbing, and more staring at her and singing to her. We were there, and she was safe.
But back to my consulting gig. After Cate arrived with her black hair and squishy little body, I went back on the road to close down my New York gig. I was to be on the road for two weeks, including the weekend. I did the tour. We closed the gig with some degree of success and I returned home almost fourteen days after leaving.
I can still see how Cate’s eyes had changed color while I was gone. They had left their deep, oceanic blue behind and were lightening to their current hue. Her face had thinned, her fingers moved in concert and with focus. She was a different baby than the one I left. She had changed.
And I had missed it.
At that moment life presented a choice to me. I could keep consulting from Dallas and traveling, or I could find a job that paid less where I would not have to travel. Believe it or not I had to think about it. It wasn’t a trade-off of money versus my daughter. It was the security of a paying gig with benefits that I knew how to do, versus the uncertainty and ambiguity of finding something new.
The second of these options was terrifying to me since I would undoubtedly take a major pay cut, I might have to relocate, and I would certainly leave behind the career I had built with a top tier consulting company based in Boston and staffed with Ivy Leaguers. There was a lot of fear. But nothing was more terrifying than missing my daughter’s life. And I didn’t even really know the depth of my love for her yet.
It wasn’t until another two weeks or so, after I had given notice and begun my job search, that I realized how special Cate was. Debra had agreed to go out with some friends leaving me alone for the first time with Cate. She left me there with Cate, three bottles of breast milk and my parenting research. I was not afraid. But I was a little nervous.
Deb left “for dinner” at about four o’clock. She had pre-pumped a bunch of milk so she could have a few drinks with friends. I should have realized it was going to be a long night. Cate and I played for a few hours and then it was time to eat. I entertained her as I heated the milk up and got her ready to eat. A few minutes later we had a bottle down the hatch and I had her on a shoulder patting out a nice, manly burp. And then before she knew what had happened I put her down in her crib with its hand-painted stars and moon finials. What could be better? The night was going perfectly as planned.
As anyone with kids knows, “perfect” and “plan” generally do not go hand-in-hand with a six-week old.
As I settled in my chair for some email, Cate awoke. She was needing something and unsure of what it was or how to ask for it, she began to cry. I entered the room, patted and coo’d and left. The need was still unmet and so Cate continued to cry. I waited five minutes. I entered the room again, coo’d and patted and checked diapers… but this time when I left I had her with me. I held her horizontally in my arms. She looked up at me with those light blue eyes from under a little knit cap with pink stripes. I had her wrapped up papoose style, so between the tightly wrapped blanket and my arms, she was definitely secure and feeling safe.
I held her and swayed in synch with The Jayhawks' "Blue" playing over the sound system in our first little house. It was a two-speaker room with a white-brick fireplace and white couch. The Jayhawks filled the space with their beautiful song, and as I looked down and Cate looked up, I realized I loved her in a way I hadn’t experienced loving something before. I was responsible for her. Simply by me doing my job and loving her, she would grow into something I loved more and more deeply. She would be like me, but better. She would be like Debra, but better. She would be our work of art that lived.
Cate is smart. She is beautiful. She loves music and art. She has an innate sense of business and marketing. She is dedicated and impressive. She is talented and creative. If I didn’t know her, I would want to. I am so glad I decided to not miss her.
Leading up to Cate’s birth I had taken about four weeks off from traveling so I would not miss the moment of her arrival. I had been working in Up State New York for a small telecom company doing strategy implementation and process optimization. It was long hours with high expectations, so coming home to down-time was both rewarding and maddening as Deb and I waited for Cate. When she arrived, we were shell shocked. We had been reading about parenting quite a lot, but we were completely unprepared.
I can recall one time in particular when Mac and Gayle were visiting us. It was early evening, Cate’s bedtime, Cate had eaten and was in her bedroom in her crib but she was decidedly not ready for sleep. Deb and I sat staring at the wall as Cate cried. We followed the recipe from our research: wait five minutes, check diaper, pat reassuringly, do not pick up baby, coo, leave, repeat after ten minutes. The minutes passed even more slowly as Cate continued to cry and Mac and Gayle continued to watch us, apparently as determined to let us parent as we were to do it. After about 30 minutes of this, finally Mac stood up, “If one of you all isn’t going to get that baby then I am.” It was a beautiful way to break the tension, and we gave in immediately. In general, we abandoned the notion of “crying it out” that night. We still understood the importance of letting Cate get secure in her crib without us there, but it was with more visits, more coo’ing, more patting, more rubbing, and more staring at her and singing to her. We were there, and she was safe.
But back to my consulting gig. After Cate arrived with her black hair and squishy little body, I went back on the road to close down my New York gig. I was to be on the road for two weeks, including the weekend. I did the tour. We closed the gig with some degree of success and I returned home almost fourteen days after leaving.
I can still see how Cate’s eyes had changed color while I was gone. They had left their deep, oceanic blue behind and were lightening to their current hue. Her face had thinned, her fingers moved in concert and with focus. She was a different baby than the one I left. She had changed.
And I had missed it.
At that moment life presented a choice to me. I could keep consulting from Dallas and traveling, or I could find a job that paid less where I would not have to travel. Believe it or not I had to think about it. It wasn’t a trade-off of money versus my daughter. It was the security of a paying gig with benefits that I knew how to do, versus the uncertainty and ambiguity of finding something new.
The second of these options was terrifying to me since I would undoubtedly take a major pay cut, I might have to relocate, and I would certainly leave behind the career I had built with a top tier consulting company based in Boston and staffed with Ivy Leaguers. There was a lot of fear. But nothing was more terrifying than missing my daughter’s life. And I didn’t even really know the depth of my love for her yet.
It wasn’t until another two weeks or so, after I had given notice and begun my job search, that I realized how special Cate was. Debra had agreed to go out with some friends leaving me alone for the first time with Cate. She left me there with Cate, three bottles of breast milk and my parenting research. I was not afraid. But I was a little nervous.
Deb left “for dinner” at about four o’clock. She had pre-pumped a bunch of milk so she could have a few drinks with friends. I should have realized it was going to be a long night. Cate and I played for a few hours and then it was time to eat. I entertained her as I heated the milk up and got her ready to eat. A few minutes later we had a bottle down the hatch and I had her on a shoulder patting out a nice, manly burp. And then before she knew what had happened I put her down in her crib with its hand-painted stars and moon finials. What could be better? The night was going perfectly as planned.
As anyone with kids knows, “perfect” and “plan” generally do not go hand-in-hand with a six-week old.
As I settled in my chair for some email, Cate awoke. She was needing something and unsure of what it was or how to ask for it, she began to cry. I entered the room, patted and coo’d and left. The need was still unmet and so Cate continued to cry. I waited five minutes. I entered the room again, coo’d and patted and checked diapers… but this time when I left I had her with me. I held her horizontally in my arms. She looked up at me with those light blue eyes from under a little knit cap with pink stripes. I had her wrapped up papoose style, so between the tightly wrapped blanket and my arms, she was definitely secure and feeling safe.
I held her and swayed in synch with The Jayhawks' "Blue" playing over the sound system in our first little house. It was a two-speaker room with a white-brick fireplace and white couch. The Jayhawks filled the space with their beautiful song, and as I looked down and Cate looked up, I realized I loved her in a way I hadn’t experienced loving something before. I was responsible for her. Simply by me doing my job and loving her, she would grow into something I loved more and more deeply. She would be like me, but better. She would be like Debra, but better. She would be our work of art that lived.
Cate is smart. She is beautiful. She loves music and art. She has an innate sense of business and marketing. She is dedicated and impressive. She is talented and creative. If I didn’t know her, I would want to. I am so glad I decided to not miss her.
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