Sleep.
You stop getting any.
I was a dad now.
I stopped sleeping the moment we found out there was a baby.
Actually, I've been an insomniac most of my adult life.
Now, it was helpful.
And there was always coffee. Story has it that a goat herder in ancient Ethiopia noticed his goats super excited as they ate the red fruit from a nearby shrub. Turns out this goat herder was named Folgers de Starbucks of the magical land of Dunkin Donuts (nope, not true, his name is recorded as Kaldi.) After some hoops and hurdles and other observations, Kaldi tried the fruit which was from a coffee shrub and eventually a monk got involved, shared the discovery and then the whole world learned how to stay awake.
And then we started having babies.
God bless those goats.
So, sleep - as a parent, you stop getting any.
But you know what? Who needs it? Okay, yes, it's healthy to rest. Yes. I get it.
But you know that image we have of the zombie black-eyed, bag-face parents nudging each other for turns with the baby at night? Nope. Not the deal.
Orlando came home. I was up nearly every night until 2am or 3am so Lizeth could rest. The she would wake up, take a few hours of parental duty and then I would be back at it.
So, I didn’t get much sleep.
On one hand, I was sleepless because I've been an insomniac for most of my life. Last great sleep I had was in the 90s after an East Chicago Central High Lock-In event where I stayed awake for nearly 24 hours.
On the other hand, I was sleepless because Orlando was my infant son and I wanted to catch every moment of his life.
For me, as a grown man, time was different than it was for baby Orlando. For me, every minute was just another minute. My body was not changing between the seconds. But every minute for him was literal growth. Every movement, every breath, every stretch, reach and cry was him changing.
I grew up without a father. And in that absence, I grew up without a dad who could have showed that level of interest - no dad whom, for all I could tell, wanted to capture every moment of my life.
I was damn sure not going to miss Orlando's.
Nope, zombie eyes and bag-face? Not the deal. I was a dad. I was pumped.
And God made coffee.