16 Things I Learned on Parental Leave

Well, it happened. On March 3, 2022, I became a parent.

This is a life-changing, holy-crap milestone for anyone, but especially for me, as my child-rearing bonafides were somewhere between limited and non-existent.

Need proof? The first time I held a baby, I was 30. I had never changed a diaper. And aside from becoming an uncle through marriage, my experience with children was more or less limited to holiday parties and zoos (which, in full candor, are basically the same thing).

All of which is to say I had no idea what I was doing.

My wife, Amelia, and I took several parenting classes during her pregnancy that fell somewhere between “Here’s What Might Happen During Labor” and “Keeping Your Kid Alive 101.” For the average person, content was common sense (so I of course took copious notes). I learned words and phrases like pitocin, crowning, and sleep regression. It was all well and good, but no class prepares you for the real deal.

The real deal arrived on a Thursday at 5:01 a.m., weighing 6 pounds, 6 ounces.

And just like that, my life changed forever.

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I’m all about preparation and planning. I love researching. You need a trip itinerary, I’m your man. I’m the guy who studies the restaurant menu a week before a reservation and still needs 20 minutes at the table to decide on a dish.

Paralysis by analysis? I might not be guilty, but I’m definitely not innocent.

Given this, you would think I spent nine months reading articles, listening to podcasts, and texting every dad I know for advice.

Nope. I didn’t do any of that.

Reason being, if there’s one thing about parenting I knew, it’s this: every experience is unique. I didn’t want to base my expectations on a compilation of experiences, only to think my experience was flawed or inadequate because it wasn’t unfolding exactly as some random blogger or podcast host said it would. Basic parenting classes aside, I went in blind—and I learned a helluva lot in the process.

Your experience might have been, or will be, completely different, and that’s okay. Here are 16 things I learned during 16 weeks of parental leave.

1) Pack heavy for the hospital. However many nights you plan to be at the hospital for labor, pack at least double the clothing—or at least double the underwear. If not, you risk your brother-in-law dropping off a pair of his boxers (along with Potbelly milkshakes) on your last night in postpartum. Also, bring your own bedding, including your own pillow. Trust me on this.

2) Driving home from the hospital is the most important drive of your life. Maybe it’s the movies, but when it comes to birth, everyone seems to focus on the drive to the hospital. You have to have your route planned, a bag packed, and you have to bolt to the hospital after the first contraction (which, as it turns out, is inaccurate). But no one really talks about the drive home, the one where you suddenly have this living, breathing thing chilling in your backseat.

When we drove to the hospital, we thought we’d be there three nights. We wound up staying almost a week (long story). It wasn’t fun having to stay that long, but it wound up being a blessing in disguise. We received all sorts of help from lactation experts and medical staff, including Anna, who was basically our personal nurse (even though she had an entire floor to assist). For four days, Anna was there at every turn and talked us though anything and everything. She went above and beyond and then some.

When it came time for us to leave, Anna was there to say goodbye. “Wait, so you’re not coming with us?” I asked.

“No,” she said, laughing, “I have to stay here.”

I was joking, but I was still sad.

When we left the hospital, after getting hugs and photos with Anna, we loaded our daughter—Aubrey Ann Meale—into the backseat and drove home. Suddenly the stakes felt a whole lot higher. The doctors, nurses, and lactation experts were nowhere to be found. It was just me and Amelia, and our baby girl’s life was entirely in our hands.

I can’t remember what the speed limit was, but I know for sure I was under it.

The point is, when you drive to the hospital, your life is about to change. When you drive home, it already has.

That’s when the adventure truly begins.

3) Bodily fluids are everywhere. Aubrey wasn’t even 24 hours old the first time she sneezed in my mouth. Surprisingly, the germaphobe in me did not have a meltdown; I just accepted it as my new reality. Since then, I’ve been peed on, pooped on, drooled on, spit-up on, and sneezed on I don’t know how many times. I stare at Aubrey after every offending incident, and she just smiles. This is parenthood.

4) Newborns are either not hungry, or starving; there is no in-between. It’s astonishing. One minute, Aubrey was as happy as can be; the next minute, she’s showing me how well her lungs work. “Aubrey, do you want a Snickers?” I would ask, warming her bottle. “You’re not you when you’re hungry.”

She didn’t find that nearly as funny as I did.

Related note: Newborns have no use for the words “hold on.” In fact, I think it just makes them angrier.

Learn to anticipate hunger. Have a warm bottle ready at all times. Your ears will thank you.

5) The 5 a.m. feedings (for you) are a must. In the first few weeks and months, your newborn will wake up 3-4 times, at least, in the middle of the night to get changed and fed. You, by extension, are up as well, usually for way longer than you want. By dawn, or close to it, last night’s dinner was a long time ago. You WILL be hungry before breakfast. Keep protein bars for you (and mom) in your nightstand.

6) The Snot Sucker is a necessary invention. Newborns often need to blow their nose but can’t. That’s where the Snot Sucker comes in. We line Aubrey’s nose with saline, Amelia inserts a tube into Aubrey’s left nostril, and I inhale on the other end of the tube about as hard as I can. Aubrey hates this. She acts like her brain is getting vacuumed and reminds us, again, how well her lungs work. Then we do the right nostril. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s incredible how much mucus exits her tiny nose, which helps her breathe—and sleep—better. (Sorry, Aubrey! We love you!)

7) Gas pains are real; dairy allergies are worse. Newborns, as many parents know (and as we learned), often struggle to pass gas, which can be painful. Aubrey was as happy as can be for the first few weeks of life but started having sharp pains 3-4 times a day when passing gas or filling her diaper. It was horrible. She would push her legs against us for support and clench our shirts in agony. And the screaming. It sounded like she was getting amputated without anesthesia. We read countless articles on how to help our little one through tough times, but nothing worked.

Then it dawned on us: cut out dairy. That, my friends, did the trick. Within a week, Aubrey stopped having “gas pains,” and we stopped having to analyze the color and contents of her diaper.

We hope Aubrey, like many newborns, grows out of this allergy, but for now we’re just happy she’s not in pain.

8) Take the nap. In general, I’m not a napper because it throws off my sleep schedule. On parental leave, however, there is no schedule. “Keep your child alive” is your one responsibility—and you have a much better chance of doing that if you’re well-rested. You don’t need to “nap when the baby naps,” but 2-3 naps a week became par for the course. I probably took more naps on parental leave than I did in my entire pre-parent existence combined. Don’t fight it. Just take the nap.

9) One thing at a time, especially in the middle of the night. If you don’t pay attention to what you’re doing, your newborn could get hurt. So could you. About six weeks into parenthood, a middle-of-the-night mishap (entirely my fault) led to a 4 a.m. trip to Walgreen’s, a next-day trip to Urgent Care, and three appointments with a hand specialist. Long story short: I had an embarrassing encounter with a glass soap dispenser, and the glass soap dispenser won. My finger sliced open, blood went everywhere, stitches were needed.

It’s not easy, but implore your sleep-deprived mind to always focus on the task at…hand.

(See what I did there?!)

(I hate myself.)

10) Sing to (and dance with) your baby. When Aubrey cries, it’s usually because she’s hungry, tired, or needs changed. But sometimes she just needs a little Bob Marley in her life. Not even kidding, it’s amazing how much this child lights up to certain songs. Lou Bega, Shaggy, pretty much anything from the ‘90s—she is grinning ear-to-ear and dancing in her bouncer. Are all of the lyrics on Aubrey’s playlist age-appropriate? Yes…from the standpoint that she doesn’t understand any of them. And if she does, let’s just say I’m pretty sure she won’t go chasing waterfalls.

(Seriously, I hate myself.)

11) Stick to your pre-parent routines… Before we became parents, Amelia did most of the grocery shopping and I did most of the cooking. Now that we’re parents…Amelia does most of the grocery shopping and I do most of the cooking. That may seem like a small thing, but it’s not. We enjoy these respective activities, it’s an outlet for both of us, and it’s one of many ways we work together and put each other first in our relationship.

12) …And work together to develop new ones. There’s no other way to say it: Amelia and I utterly dominate bath time. We each have pre-bath, during-bath, and post-bath responsibilities—and we perform them well, the same way, every night. The process is fast, effective, and probably one reason why Aubrey is such a good sleeper (at least at night).

13) Take endless photos and videos. I used to have storage on my phone, then I had a kid. Seriously, I’ve taken literally thousands of photos and videos of Aubrey in just a few months. Many are adorable, some are hilarious, and a few have definite blackmail potential.

(Just kidding.)

(But not really.)

Best part of taking so many photos and videos of her? I can now call myself the… papa-razzi.

(Okay, I’ve really gotta stop.)

14) Mom is the real MVP. I’ve always thought moms don’t get enough credit for all they do, and now that I’m married to one, I know they don’t. First, there’s pregnancy, which often takes nine months, countless visits to the OB-GYN, and potential complications at pretty much every turn; then there’s the physical act of labor—which, holy hell, I will never forget the strength and grace Amelia showed that entire week; and then there’s all-hours-of-the-day-and-night breastfeeding that, you know, actually keeps your baby alive. And those are just the basics. There’s so much more that mom does—and it doesn’t stop once she returns to work, either. It just continues. Work, care-give, work, care-give.

Long story short: mom has legit, undeniable, next-level GOAT status for eternity.

And since there are certain things only mom can do, dad needs to pick up the slack in other areas. Meal prep, diaper changes, bath time—you name it, dad’s gotta do it (or at least be right there side-by-side in the parental trenches).

So, fellas, make life as easy on mom as possible. Do whatever she asks—ideally before she has to ask for it.

15) It really does take a village. It’s cliche, but it’s also true. So many people have loved Aubrey and helped lighten our parenting load. We’re incredibly fortunate to have such a strong support system, and I cannot imagine how much more difficult these first few months would have been without this help. Thank you to everyone who has contributed, from visiting us to changing diapers to offering words of encouragement. It means more than you realize.

16) Take every day of leave you get. When I learned I was eligible for 16 weeks of leave, I was stunned. I was also worried I’d go crazy halfway through. After all, work had always been such a huge part of my life. I was self-employed for a decade—from 2011 to 2021—and took just two vacations during that time (and one was my honeymoon). I genuinely didn’t know if I could not work for 16 weeks.

As it turns out, I could—and I savored every minute of it. (Well, except for those times when Aubrey had blowout and/or refused to nap. Those kinda sucked.)

Point being, your company is okay with you taking full advantage of this benefit. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t offer it. Having supportive bosses definitely helps (I won the lottery in that regard), but ultimately, work will always be there; time with your newborn won’t.

Choose wisely.

Tony Meale is a Chicago-based author, ghostwriter, and guest speaker. He has a master’s degree in journalism from Ohio University and is the author of “The Chosen Ones: The Team That Beat LeBron,” which was featured on ESPN. He can be reached at info@tonymeale.com.