13. Eli
Eli
Wren’s pitiful, hungry cry rips me from deep sleep. I roll out of bed and scoop my sweet daughter into my arms from the bassinet next to my bed, but her crying intensifies.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I will go as fast as I can.” Humming to Wren as I quickly clean her up, changing her diaper—and her onesie and her footie pajamas that she leaked right through—I try to shake the cobwebs from my head before carrying her downstairs to the kitchen to make a bottle.
Normally popping out of bed and rushing to put gear on for a fire gets your adrenaline going fast and hard.
One second you’re passed out in deep sleep, then you are rushing off to an emergency.
I was so sure that lifestyle would have me prepared expertly for fatherhood, but I was seriously wrong.
This kind of sleep deprivation is completely different.
A whole new level of exhaustion and being needed.
Having secured a nice warm bottle out of the warmer on the counter, I tuck Wren into the crook of my arm, using Sutton’s sheep-covered Boppy pillow for extra support, and settle into the rocking chair in my new living room.
The Savellis were kind enough to leave me a lot of nice furniture with the sale of the house, not wanting to worry about hauling it across the country.
It’s all older but well taken care of, like this chair.
It reminds me of the one at my mom’s house.
Gliding back and forth smoothly, I look down at Wren as she greedily gulps down the formula.
“Oh my, slow down, little lady. You are hungry today, aren’t you?
” Bottle already half gone, I put her on my shoulder and pat her back.
She lets out a large burp, a sound that shouldn’t be possible coming from something so tiny, and my rumble of laughter echoes though the quiet house.
“Here you go, let’s finish it off.” I pop the bottle back in and Wren goes right back to sucking. I am glad she hasn’t had any feeding issues. Apparently she really does have my appetite. She looks up at me and her eyes shine in the glow of the dimmed lamp light. Watchful, curious, sweet.
God she is so perfect. How is she really mine?
Her eyes get droopy as she finishes off the last drops of the bottle.
I burp her one more time, we rock for a while, and then I trudge back to my room.
I’m about to lay her back down when I remember that she leaked straight through all her clothes and swaddle, which means I have to change all her bedding too.
Shit—who knew one teeny baby made so much laundry?
Making a pillow wall on my king-sized bed, I carefully place Wren in the middle.
Not like she can roll anywhere being that she is a newborn, but it just makes me feel better.
I change all the bedding in the bassinet, scoop Wren as gently as possible, praying she stays asleep and happily reswaddled, setting her back in her own little area.
She makes a cute little pucker with her mouth, wiggles a tiny bit, but then settles right back into a deeper sleep. Thank fuck.
Now I’m wide awake. The sun is peeking slowly over the horizon.
Even though I should try to sleep more, I know it won’t happen.
I grab the baby monitor, my phone, tripod, and jump rope.
A little sunrise video might be the perfect thing to film this morning.
I haven’t posted anything to my social media since before Wren was born.
Obviously jump rope videos feel silly compared to the enormity of what’s happening in my life, but at the same time I need to burn off the energy, the pressure, the stress.
I love working out, and jumping is kind of like a meditation in its own rite.
It takes a lot of effort, concentration, and stamina.
Some people think my account is dumb, but it’s fun for me and also brings people joy.
I’ve even had others message me saying that I inspired them to start jumping rope, basic exercise, and a few even want to go into firefighting.
I can’t believe I can have that kind of impact just by posting short clips of me doing things I genuinely enjoy.
The sunrise paints my backyard in a buttery soft glow, with pinks and yellows gently streaking across the wispy morning clouds.
A slight nip in the air is perfect for an early morning workout before the summer sun starts beating down, making sure we all sweat whether we want to or not.
I set up my tripod, cue up the music I have been working on for the routine I choreographed, and turn up the volume on the baby monitor.
I run through the typical warm-ups I do, followed by some push-ups and sit-ups in the grass.
Thankfully Dom Savelli took pride in having a prize-worthy lawn so it’s lush and a nice cushion underneath my back.
When I’m on my second run-through of my routine, I hear a noise.
I quickly stop, thinking it is Wren, but instead I see the lighting from my neighbor’s garage and realize the noise is coming from inside.