November 2021 | Stuck

I’m stuck on what to write.

You want to hold her? That’s okay, I’m scared of holding babies too. You can sit down a minute if you like. Just close the door, it’s freezing.

Yeah, it’s different. The noise of life dialed down to a baby’s cry. Not that I feel like a different person. But pre-baby me was getting neurotic. You’ll start breaking stuff with all that thrashing around. Metaphorically, you know.

Pregnancy is a paradox too. God-like power or animal instinct? Tempting to think of childbirth as something alien. Isn’t that ironic? The origin of everyone you’ve ever known, ever loved.

During labor, watching my wife go through transition was something else. I mean, I never cry. The screaming didn’t frighten me, but it made me so sad.

Life's just not fair, you know? Nine months with every kind of discomfort, then the most painful experience of your life, then more pain while you recover, and then more pain when breastfeeding doesn't work right.

Yeah someone else told me that too, that evolution screwed us over on all that with our big brains, causing painful births and helpless babies. And all that extra grey matter for what? Just to carry around the knowledge of good and evil? Now I know why God was like, "Yeah, don't eat that."

Hey, hey, look at her. Smiling in her sleep. You sure you don't want to hold her? Man, it's so funny. I have to remind myself she's not from the hospital. She was spending all her time here with us, tumbling about in the womb for months.

But with new life, new fear of loss. Been stuck on that long before baby girl.

I lied, I cried one other time. I was in the kitchen today, holding her in my arms, and that Anna Nalick song got me. “Life’s like an hourglass glued to the table.” It was like 20 years of time-travel, breathing color into the images on the journey back.    

Not that I'm like, nostalgic for childhood, or adolescence, or for the 90s or whatever. Maybe a little. It's the moments of zero responsibility that you miss. Right, the summers were longer.

You’re right, I guess that’s what vacations are for. But everyone talks about that obligation to make the most of every moment. Paralyzed by options. What I'm talking about is being totally stuck. Airplane stuck, work hotel stuck, niece’s birthday party stuck. I can’t get enough of that. No other place to be. Untouchable.

And I guess that brings me back to baby girl. I mean, night’s long and scary. When she doesn't sleep you're dying to close your eyes but when she does, you keep checking her breathing. You take her in your arms when she won't sleep any other way. Baby yawns. You yawn. The light from the window grows brighter. The credits roll, like the end of a long flight. Leave the warmth of the baby annex for a kitchen cold as winter. Baby in one arm. Trying to pour a coffee. Nothing on the baby monitor, your spouse is sleeping in. Yeah, a weird vacation. Wish I could stay here a little longer.

But the hourglass is glued, and no amount of thrashing's going to buck that reality. But I can chain myself to something, let it drag me outside.

Looks like she's waking up. Not at all! Interruption is the name of the game. You might want to get out of here before things get ugly.

Stuck.

Stuck in the muck.

Stuck in a truck with a duck in the muck we're all

Stuck.

Stuck at a brunch.

Stuck at a brunch with some duffers that suck we're all

Stuck.

Stuck in her eyes.

Struck by her looks now she's stuck in our mind we're all

Stuck.

Stuck in a bluff.

Bluffing so tough it's enough to be cuffed we're all

Stuck.

Stuck in a book.

Sucked in by the hook skipping work for my nook we're all

Stuck.

Stuck on a rhyme.

Sometimes you just can't make the sounds coincide and you're

Stuck.

Stuck on a rhyme.

Sometimes you just can't make the sounds coincide

You'll be done when it's done but you'll sooner have died

Haunt the earth for a decade or two til you find

That language invented your sought after sound

But your previous word is no longer around you're still

Stuck,

In the muck.

In a truck,

With a duck.