Mama-Come-Lately

Back in April, or maybe May, we had our HVAC system checked for the coming summer. I answered the door with my newborn in my arms, and the guy mentioned that his wife was pregnant. Yesterday, the same guy turned up, only he’s not quite the same guy now because he has a two-week-old baby girl at home.

I asked if he wanted to see how ours had grown, and he said, “I’ve seen enough babies for now.” I laughed and said I had to fetch the kid anyway — can’t really leave him to his own devices for too long, ha ha.

The guy finished his testing, and as I was signing the paperwork he said, “I hope I didn’t offend you by saying I didn’t want to see your baby.” I assured him that if anyone understood that feeling, it was me. “You’re going through a crazy time. I’ve just been there. It’s overwhelming in lots of ways. Don’t worry about it.” I meant every word.

We chatted a bit about sleep deprivation, how his wife is holding up, what his baby girl is like, and the evils of video monitors (Him: “I’m not even going to mention to my wife that those exist.” Me: “Good call.”).

The last thing I said to him as he moaned (deservedly) one more time about sleep deprivation was something quite a few people said to me. It was one of the only things that really made sense to me in my addled state and helped me keep going.

“It gets better.”