Last night was arguably the biggest night of my parenting career. Faith was feeling ill, so it was decided that I was to do a feed in the night. I have done the last feed before I go to sleep to allow Faith to have an early night plenty of times, but this was different, never have I been entrusted to wake up in the wee hours for anything more than a supporting role.
As I went to bed, it felt like I was awaiting a cup final. I had all sorts of football analogies going through my head, probably because I’d been following transfer deadline day. It felt like I had been a sub in the cup final before. I had seen it all, but never had I been required to come off the bench. Tonight I was coming off the bench. I had been given the nod by the manager (i.e., my wife). I was ready.
After maybe an hour of light sleep I awoke to hear Adlai’s murmurs. This was it. I reached for my phone (which I’d left strategically by my pillow), and used its light to guide me around our bedroom and eventually to Adlai’s crib. I picked up my half-asleep son and headed for what we are calling our feeding chair. Adlai looked confused to see me. I reassured him that I was fully trained and here under the approval of his mother. He seemed happy enough with this explanation.
Adlai has been fed a few times through a bottle, but he is more accustomed to the boob method. After a bit of wriggling around (by the both of us), we were away. I had planned to check the football transfers on my phone, but the situation was far too critical to move. After ten minutes or so Adlai was looking sleepy…all was going well. It looked like my debut was to be a success. But then, disaster; I ran out of milk. For a moment or two it looked like I might get away with it, but it was not to be my night. Soon my son was screaming. Within seconds Faith was awake and the transfer from bottle to boob made.
I returned to bed/bench and my more familiar supporting role. It was a disappointing end to my cup final.