Day 38: The New Life Specimen Chronicles
Survival Journal, Entry #38
It has been exactly 38 days since the tiny, unpredictable, yet alarmingly cute newly formed life force, hereby referred to as the “specimen” joined our ranks.
The little specimen, though small, is surprisingly powerful. Its demands are immediate, its needs constant, and its cuteness utterly disarming. It has me wrapped around its tiny perfectly formed fingers and seems to possess a potent survival mechanism: the ability to lull me into a false sense of security by sleeping peacefully, only to awaken the moment I sit down with a hot tea or close my eyes to nap.
Its primary forms of communication are:
1. The Wail of Hunger: Pierces the soul. Response time must be immediate.
2. The Cry of Mystery: No discernible cause. Proceed with trial-and-error troubleshooting (diaper, swaddle, dummy, existential reassurance).
3. The Contented Chatter: In comparison to above, fairly rare but highly rewarding. Evidence that I’m doing something right—or that the specimen is plotting my next competency test.
Changes To Our Habitat
Our once-pristine home now resembles an obstacle course of feeding cloths, baby bottles, and dummies in varying states of cleanliness. A giant playmat has spawned in the living room, a glider and change table have overtaken the study, and a mountain of laundry grows ominously taller in the corner.
The specimen has colonised every inch of space, leaving no corner untouched by its influence. My partner and I communicate about nothing but the specimen and most strikingly, we talk in whispers, to avoid waking the baby because we fear invoking its wrath by speaking too loudly.
We, the parent units, are holding up. I have adapted to survive on fragmented bursts of sleep that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Coffee is no longer a leisurely beverage; it’s a lifeline. I’ve forgotten what day it is and frequently refer to events as either “pre-baby” or “post-birth.”
I’ve also developed a keen sixth sense for impending diaper explosions. It’s a skill I never valued but now realise it is essential for survival and to avoid unlawfully irritating the speciment.
Apparently the specimen hasn’t evolved to have a strong immune system yet. This will change next week when we reinforce it with a immunisation booster (6 week vaccinations) and mean we’ll get to introduce the specimen to our close acquaintances (family and friend infiltrators). So far, the specimen probably thinks our only connection outside this pod, is with the Amazon driver who provides essential nappy deliveries when we need it. My main concern going into this new phase of freedom is that the specimen’s temperament is wildly unpredictable. It can be cool, calm and collected one moment and a wailing Soprano the next.
Unlike us, our acquaintances will have the ability to leave, to return to a world where time is measured in hours, not feeding intervals.
Moments of Hope
Despite the chaos, there are moments that remind me why we persevere. The way the life specimen grips my finger as if it’s holding on for dear life. The adorable smiles and it’s first bout of laughter (are they real or just reflexes? Unclear, but I’ll take them). The knowledge that, though I am sleep-deprived and covered in spit-up, I am now someone’s whole world.
It’s terrifying, exhausting, and beautiful.
Lessons from Day 38
1. The Baby Always Wins. Any illusions of control are false and futile.
2. Celebrate the Small Victories. A successful nap, a good satisfying burp, or a diaper change without incident are all triumphs and worth savouring.
3. It’s Okay to Cry (For both specimen and us). Emotional release is part of the process.
As I write this, the life specimen has entered what we call “the Angelic Phase,” where it sleeps soundly, giving me just enough time to recharge before the next battle begins.
Day 38, and we’re still standing. It’s not graceful, and it’s certainly not clean, but we’re surviving. Some may say “thriving” in our own way.
To any fellow new-parent units reading this: stay strong. The life specimen may be relentless, but so are we.
