There is nothing more shocking in a man’s life then to be slammed into baby reality with a screaming mini you. Since the birth of my little girl (Sylvia June) two weeks ago, I had an idea what I would be getting into when she would be home. I knew it was going to be tough and tried to enjoy the final “sleep in” days that were coming to a rushing close and trying to embrace of the new me and the new title I was earning of father, but like I said, I thought that I had a good idea of what was to come.

How did I know? Well I didn’t just read it in books, hear advice from childless friends, or hear it though gossip magazines; I’m the oldest of three children and experienced it myself. Those that are the oldest of a series of siblings understand what I mean. I remember vividly my younger sister, and my even younger brother’s, homecoming and adjustment to their new environments. I also remember quite well the many pre-dawn hours of screaming that would wake me up from my adolescent beauty sleep. I do have to say emphatically, nothing, absolutely nothing compares to the scream that YOU now have to answer as a parent of a newborn. You’re sort of a concierge to this squirmy little person that is telling you off in baby language, a language you can’t prepare yourself for or at times understand no matter how much you prepare yourself for it.

My little girl finally got the green light to leave the hospital a few days ago after a long stay in the hospital’s neonatal intensive care unit for a tumor scare; she fortunately is fine and pulled though like a trooper. Over the months and weeks prior to Sylvia’s birth and homecoming, my wife and I rapidly got ready for our little girl, we tried to fix, install and dispose of anything in order to accommodate our new child and now it’s finally come to this, the green light and “release papers” to take her home. My sister, being an assistant, videotaped the “packing the car with a baby” event. We all had excited smiles, took pictures with the hospital staff, got her all wrapped up like a caterpillar going into a cocoon, took the elevator down and got to our vehicle. When we finally got Sylvia safely in the car and we were on our way, there was a brief period of panic. I desperately tried to stay calm but I couldn’t fight the verbal battle in my brain. I was processing this new development of a baby in her car seat and it was MY child! If you could hear my inner dialogue it sounded something like this, “HOLY SH*T I’M A PARENT, I’M A DAD!”

My wife and I entered our apartment, set our little girl in her new bassinet and it was in that moment that we took in the fact that our life has changed forever. We looked at our Sylvia, proud of what we both created for quite a long time. So for the rest of the evening it was, for the most part, a pretty standard day but night was quickly approaching and eventually it would be time for sleep. My wife fed Sylvia and we went to bed. It took no longer than two hours later (and every two hours thereafter) and we were awoken to a new sound we both had never heard. It was piercing, screeching and abrupt. For me, there is NOTHING more shocking in a man’s life then to be slammed into baby reality with a screaming mini you…

This is today’s Trials of Being Dad!

Michael J. Carrasquillo is a NYC musician, filmmaker, speaker, organizer of NYC Media Makers & new father. He blogs at Issue De ‘Quillo and produces a podcast called “The Trials of Being Mike” and an upcoming podcast called “moments”. You can follow him on Twitter @mjcarrasquillo.