One Year Later

My last entry was 365 days ago. In a perfect world, I would blog every month. Witty observations conveyed urbanely! Engaging photo captions! Clever titles! Well, the world’s not perfect and neither am I. Who’s to blame? The kids. It’s always the kids.

First son, second child

On July 22, 2024, at 8:59 a.m., Jack Henry Sulzbach greeted the world in tears. A pair of gloved hands presented him to me and Erica from behind a transparent sheet of protective plastic. I remember the sound of his cry—a warble like Donald Duck’s incomprehensible gibberish. The sight of Jack suspended in air, mottled by fluids, umbilical cord still attached, stunned us into silence.

The surgeon asked if we wanted to take a picture. Was she insane? Finding my voice, I shook my head and answered “No.”

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Since then, we’ve taken hundreds of photos of Jack. Our pale-faced cherub is nine months old and endlessly photogenic. You wouldn’t know it now, but he suffered severe weight loss during his first week home. His pediatrician advised re-admitting him to the hospital if he didn’t gain pounds fast enough. Erica and I took this to heart, sacrificing sleep and sanity to ensure Jack ate around the clock.

Today, Jack is playful, jovial, and inquisitive. When I hold him tightly, he likes to bonk his head against my skull as a sign of affection. Some of his nicknames include Chubbins, Chubinski, Jack-Jack, Jack Attack, Jackers, Jackalope, Jackerspaniel, and Jumbo Jack. His terms of endearment for us are “Ma-ma-ma” and “Da-da-da” in that order.

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If Jack’s verbal skills are only average, his fine motor skills are exceptional. He can pluck a fiber of cotton from Olivia’s pillow with steely-eyed precision or swipe grandma’s glasses with ease. Jack crawls quickly, stands ably, and cruises like a champ. I expect he’ll be walking by the time I finish this sentence.

A lord of time and space

Olivia has adapted to her role as big sister with only a few grievances. While she professes great love for Jack, she professes similar devotion to her toys. Most days, the toys win. Sharing is not appealing due to Jack’s knack for putting everything in his mouth.

Daily, Olivia drags her toys into the living room only to hide them in a panic when her brother is on the prowl, drooling like the ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal. Among Olivia’s favorite characters: Woody, Spider-Man, and Mickey Mouse.

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Recently I introduced Olivia to a few episodes of “Doctor Who” from 2010. She loves role-playing as feisty companion Amy Pond, traveling through time and space in the TARDIS with the “bowtie Doctor” (me). Together we have defended Earth against Prisoner Zero, Smilers, Cybermen, and loads of Daleks. Jack unwittingly plays the role of Baby Rory, whom the Daleks zapped with a de-aging ray (naturally).

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Eating continues to be a struggle. By mouth, Olivia eats no more than a nibble here and there. She remains 100% tube-dependent. I’ve introduced a reward system to motivate her—namely, bribery in the form of a dollar for every bottle she finishes on her own. The concept has been slow to gain traction, but she has amassed ten dollars to date. If she ever gets fully onboard, I’ll be broke.

One huge and frankly amazing piece of news is that Olivia’s gastroparesis (stomach paralysis) has improved drastically. Where she once needed several hours to digest a 6-ounce bottle, Olivia is more or less digesting 8 ounces at a normal rate. I can’t convey how miraculous this is. Our focus now is helping her overcome whatever psychological barriers prevent her from engaging with food normally.

Dazed and confused, but thankful

These days, Erica and I spend most of our time walking into walls, tripping on toys, and lamenting the difficulty of this stage of parenthood. Neither of us gets much sleep. Due to Olivia’s separation anxiety, I’ve spent the last few months tossing on an air mattress in Olivia’s room. Erica uses a pump every couple of hours to maintain a milk supply for Jack, so she gets even less sleep.

Both kids generate a mountain of diapers that cannot be contained in our trash bin. This is not an exaggeration. Trash bags stuffed with diapers line our garage. It’s disgusting and embarrassing.

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But through the madness, something beautiful is taking shape. We often ask each other, “Why did we have kids?” Sometimes we have no answer. Other times, when we’re sitting on the floor, half-dressed and laughing deliriously at the ridiculousness of these grubby humans, the answer comes into focus.

I have to squint, but it’s there. Why did we have kids? Because we wanted a family. And it’s becoming more of a reality moment by moment, day after day, diaper after diaper.

If you’ll excuse me, I must to collapse onto my air mattress. At around 2 a.m. each night, Olivia will sit up in bed and say in a loud voice, “Daddy?” I’ll stir from my slumber and rasp, “What?” Her consistent reply: “I love you.”

It doesn’t help me sleep any better, but it does melt my heart. These kids? I think we’ll keep ’em.

Afterthoughts

These are a few notes that I wanted to incorporate into the final draft but felt didn’t fit.

• Although we technically kept Jack from being readmitted to the hospital, Erica was readmitted within a week of her discharge due to severe postpartum preeclampsia. It was nearly fatal. Jack and I kept her company while grandma watched Olivia.
• When Olivia gets bored of me playing the “bowtie Doctor,” she pretends to be a Cyberman and shoots me, forcing a backward regeneration (degeneration?) into the “spikey-hair Doctor.” Sweet kid, huh?
• Work on my novel has stopped until I can get enough rest to stay awake at the keyboard. Thanks to Olivia and Jack, I have oodles of inspiration for new material.
• Olivia is learning how to use the potty. It’s a step in the right direction, but what a chore! Changing diapers is actually easier and less messy. My meager arithmetic skills conclude that I have changed at least 3,800 diapers for Olivia.
• There’s a new Superman movie coming out this summer. Olivia is keen to see it because of Krypto, Superman’s canine buddy. I’m cautiously optimistic that it won’t be a train wreck. I’m a fan of wearing my trunks over my pants, but have you seen the new suit? Yikes.