Beyond the Swarzschild radius
Connie Willis wrote a fabulous short story comparing the eastern front in WW1 with the Swarzschild radius of black holes, the point at which light or any other information cannot escape and is sucked into the black hole. You get close enough to the eastern front and nobody hears from you again.
I've often thought that this happens to new mums. You get a flash of info at the birth, and the odd update from dishevelled and unshaven new fathers, but the new mums disappear from public life for several weeks or months. They've been sucked into the black hole of 4 hourly feeds, nappies and sleep deprivation.
So I've now investigated that territory and can report back. The fact that I can do so with capitals and punctuation is the result of technology - the front-pack. This marvellous thing means I can defeat the reflux-monster that prevents a certain little someone from sleeping horizontally (at least in daytime), and still perform a range of mobile functions. Typing with both hands. Preparing lunch. Folding laundry. Not, unfortunately, sleeping or showering, but those can be deferred until the other parent is available.
So, new parenthood. It's relatively simple, but demanding. Simple compared to negotiating the activities and hierarchies of a 5, 3 and 1 year old stuck inside on school holidays, but still relentless. The first couple of weeks, we didn't know when she'd go off. Could be two hours, could be an hour and a half, could be 4. A quick duck down to the shops by the Lactator in Chief was fraught with risk. The first few nights at home, similar, until we began to discriminate between general baby snorky noises that still indicated sleeping, and those that indicated hunger or nappy issues.
Getting up at 6:30 after having spent an hour and a half feeding at midnight and 3am is Not Fun. Fortunately this seems to be receding. Several nights now, we've gone for longer sleeps, skipping the midnight feed. Last night, we managed two nice long sleeps of 4+ hours. Babies clearly have evolved cuteness to overcome the resentment that three nightly wakes could cause. Parents have evolved senses of humour to ensure that their genes get perpetuated regardless of how the latest carrier of them vomited all over everything in a 1-metre radius.
The one particularly winning weapon in this evolutionary armoury is the Smile. It is now being regularly deployed against various victims, and never fails to engender a response of several minutes of cooing and silly faces. The Cry has the advantage in procuring immediate assistance by way of food, clean nappies, or just a dance around the living room, but the Smile makes it all fun.
I've often thought that this happens to new mums. You get a flash of info at the birth, and the odd update from dishevelled and unshaven new fathers, but the new mums disappear from public life for several weeks or months. They've been sucked into the black hole of 4 hourly feeds, nappies and sleep deprivation.
So I've now investigated that territory and can report back. The fact that I can do so with capitals and punctuation is the result of technology - the front-pack. This marvellous thing means I can defeat the reflux-monster that prevents a certain little someone from sleeping horizontally (at least in daytime), and still perform a range of mobile functions. Typing with both hands. Preparing lunch. Folding laundry. Not, unfortunately, sleeping or showering, but those can be deferred until the other parent is available.
So, new parenthood. It's relatively simple, but demanding. Simple compared to negotiating the activities and hierarchies of a 5, 3 and 1 year old stuck inside on school holidays, but still relentless. The first couple of weeks, we didn't know when she'd go off. Could be two hours, could be an hour and a half, could be 4. A quick duck down to the shops by the Lactator in Chief was fraught with risk. The first few nights at home, similar, until we began to discriminate between general baby snorky noises that still indicated sleeping, and those that indicated hunger or nappy issues.
Getting up at 6:30 after having spent an hour and a half feeding at midnight and 3am is Not Fun. Fortunately this seems to be receding. Several nights now, we've gone for longer sleeps, skipping the midnight feed. Last night, we managed two nice long sleeps of 4+ hours. Babies clearly have evolved cuteness to overcome the resentment that three nightly wakes could cause. Parents have evolved senses of humour to ensure that their genes get perpetuated regardless of how the latest carrier of them vomited all over everything in a 1-metre radius.
The one particularly winning weapon in this evolutionary armoury is the Smile. It is now being regularly deployed against various victims, and never fails to engender a response of several minutes of cooing and silly faces. The Cry has the advantage in procuring immediate assistance by way of food, clean nappies, or just a dance around the living room, but the Smile makes it all fun.