So I became a daddy...

And it's grand. It's almost like bluffing into a plum, juicy job that you are entirely unqualified for, and seeing your giant, plush corner office and a hot secretary who brazenly drops hints. Only thing ruining it is your boss aruptly coming by to tell you of this huge complicated project that must be finished by next week and how everyone is counting on you based on how impressive your -- monumentally massaged -- resume was...

Oh. Shit.

My boss coming by unannounced moment came around 4 AM last night when my infant daughter refused to settle down and cried and cried and I had no idea what to do. Hungry? No, she was just fed. Wet diaper? No, checked twice. Gas? No, she was burped. Some big ol'rat gnawing on her ankle? No, this is 21st century, and this is Northside, the baby factory of Atlanta.

In the end, she kept crying and I slept for about two hours total. There may be some dads reading this who may be thinking, "Ha, two hours sleep on your first night with the baby. That's a vacation compared to what I went through!" Perhaps, maybe, but perspective requires sample of more than one, and one was all I had last night. So yeah, I was bewildered and miserable. But I have not experienced a more powerful life-affirming moment than the dawning hour when I gazed upon the sleeping -- finally! -- face of my daughter.

A new day brought more peaceful moments, and finally, a visit by a lactation expert got my wife on the right road to gush like some Mideastern oil well. Well, hopefully. And no, my wife would not appreciate the simile.

So I walk down the path of fatherhood, or rather, parenthood beucase it is a partnership. And though it be a path crowded and worn with like-situated travelers past, present and future, my wife and I travel alone for now, mindful of advice being shouted from the sides, of hustling hawkers pushing their books and guides, of well-intended yet often dubious anecdotes. What a journey.