Our first apartment was in Fargo, North Dakota; in the square mile south of Main Avenue and between I-29 and 25th Street South.
I don’t know how Fargo zoned that land. From what was there, my guess is that the designation would translate into ‘meh, whatever’.
Our apartment was on the top floor, and had a nice floor plan. Bedrooms were on either side of a living area. A kitchen and bath shared a wall with that floor’s corridor.
That’s the good news.
Something was wrong with the place. Come winter, no matter what we did, it was uncomfortably hot.
Then there were the crickets. The apartment’s nooks, crannies, and carpeting supported a modest cricket community. Normally, they’re lively insects. But these critters didn’t hop or skitter. They walked. Slowly.
On the other hand, only one of the windows fell out of its frame while we were there.
Maybe, given time, we could have done something about all of the above. Instead, when opportunity came, we found a place on Fargo’s north side. And that’s another topic.
Our First Child, Learning New Skills
We were still living with slow crickets when our first child came.
Happily, my wife was the second-oldest of seven, so she had infant-care skills.
As for me, I gleefully, if sometimes ineptly, learned how to hold babies and change diapers.
Okay. “Gleefully” and changing diapers isn’t a good match. But saying I was pleased about being a father would have been an understatement.
What They Don’t Tell You About Holding Infants
Turns out that, as a skill, holding babies has at least two facets.
First, there’s the matter of providing adequate support for the infant’s head and cradling the rest of the tiny person’s body.
Second: something I haven’t seen in ‘how to hold a newborn baby’ discussions.
It’s very important — particularly, I suspect, for fathers — to hold their infant in such a way as to not frighten the mother.
That brings me to one time when we were descending the stairs at our first apartment.
A Lesson on a Stairway
With some practice, it’s quite possible to safely hold a sufficiently-wrapped infant in the crook of one arm.
I gather the technique has a name: cradle hold.
I didn’t know that at the time. I’d just learned that I could keep her head, neck, and body lined up along my left forearm; with my left hand maintaining a firm-but-not-tight hold on her bottom.
Perfectly safe. Even when I was walking.
Or, rather, thanks to my gimpy hip, lurching. With a cane in my right hand. It’s odd: after I started using a cane, around age 20, I didn’t get nearly as many disturbed looks from folks. And that’s yet another topic.
Anyway, all three of us were heading somewhere. I don’t remember where. Any place that wasn’t that apartment was a treat, and I’m drifting off-topic again.
This time I was holding our daughter. Securely and safely. In the crook of my left arm.
Going down the building’s switchback stairs.
With my wife a step or two behind me.
Giving her a clear view of her baby being swung over the stairway’s gap.
I don’t remember exactly what she said, or how she said it.
I do remember a swift and lasting lesson: don’t swing the baby over gaps. Ever.
Good idea, I think. Aside from not alarming my wife, there’s prudence in not assuming that what I think is safe enough: is actually safe enough.
Vocations
“VOCATION: The calling or destiny we have in this life and hereafter. God has created the human person to love and serve him; the fulfillment of this vocation is eternal happiness (1, 358, 1700). Christ calls the faithful to the perfection of holiness (825). The vocation of the laity consists in seeking the Kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and directing them according to God’s will (898). Priestly and religious vocations are dedicated to the service of the Church as the universal sacrament of salvation (cf. 873; 931).”
(Catechism of the Catholic Church, Glossary)
I like being married. I realized that it was my vocation long before I knew what “vocations” in the Catholic sense were: long before I became a Catholic, for that matter.
But being married isn’t the only vocation.
I’d better clarify the term.
A vocation, in the Catholic sense, is what each of us does with our life.
In my dialect of English, when Catholics say “vocations”, we generally mean being a priest, monk, or nun.
But vocations aren’t limited to either the religious sort, or being married.
For folks like me, who are part of the laity, rules for managing human sexuality are slightly different when we’re married. But single, married, or in a religious vocation: being human, including our sexuality, matters. So does what we do with our human nature. (Catechism, 2337-2359, particularly 2349)
Our first child has long since grown up.
She’s single: not because she didn’t find the right guy, but because she thinks it’s a good idea for her.
I think she’s right.
I don’t “understand”, on an emotional or experiential level, why she decided that finding ‘Mister Right’ and raising a family wasn’t for her. But we’ve talked about this: and I understand, intellectually, her decision. Just as important, I accept it.
People, Duties, and Doing Our Job
Human beings, all human beings, are people. People matter. We’re not all alike, and that’s okay: we’re supposed to be different. Single adults are people. And, since people matter, they matter, too. (Catechism, 1658, 1934-1938, 2258-2317, for starters)
While I’m thinking of it — this is a bit counter-cultural.
My wife and I didn’t have a “right to a child”, because a child is a person, not property. (Catechism, 2378)
While we were raising them, each of our children had a duty to obey us. My wife and I had duties, too: which included remembering that each of our children was a person. Part of our job was educating them, showing them how to make good decisions. (Catechism, 2217, 2221-2230)
And part of our job was not telling them what sort of jobs they should have, who they should marry: or whether they should get married. (Catechism, 2230-2231)
The ‘good old days’ weren’t all that good.
Like I said, the way we should live is a bit counter-cultural now.
It didn’t fit cultural norms back in my ‘good old days’ — which weren’t — either: which is yet again another topic.
I’ve talked about dealing — and living — with differences, vocations, and being human, before:
- “Early Diagnosis, Tardy Treatment, and a Gimpy Hip” (January 25, 2025)
- “A Prescription, Disorders, Conformity and Culture” (May 20, 2023)
- “Time and Talent: What am I Doing Here, and Why?” (January 27, 2021)
- “Where Have All the People Gone?” (November 23, 2018)
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