New Dad

On May 24, 2025 at 4:30 am, Taylor and I welcomed our first son, Devereux Benjamin Stewart. We call him Dex. (She had the better last name, so we made her maiden name his first, to let it live on.)

Dex is everything to me.

These early days have come with many surprises, here are some of my observations from my journey into fatherhood:

1. Meaning: Becoming a dad is easily the most meaningful event of my life - nothing else comes close. Not buying a dog. Not buying a house. Not even getting married. When people say “my pride and joy,” I used to think they were just being sentimental. Now I get it.
   
   What no one tells you is how peaceful babies can be. If your only exposure to infants is on airplanes or in crowded restaurants, you think they’re always screaming. But in reality, there are beautiful, sweet moments - late-night feedings, early-morning stretches, the weight of his small head resting in my arm. These moments aren’t loud or dramatic. But they stick with you. They change you.
   

2. Community: One of the strange things about becoming a parent is realizing you're suddenly part of a club - one you didn’t apply for and didn’t even notice before. But now you're in, and the other members find you. A nod from a dad at the park. The subtle smirk from the cashier when your baby’s wailing at checkout. Stories from friends you haven’t heard from in years, now reaching out with advice or commiseration. Parenthood forms its own quiet network.

3. Struggle: It also makes life harder in the obvious ways. Everything takes longer. Things you used to do without thinking - grabbing coffee, folding laundry, going for a run - now require coordination, negotiation, and sometimes just giving up. You have less time, less energy, and a lot less flexibility. So you have to prioritize like your life depends on it. Because sometimes it does.

4. Health: I’m what you call a “Huberman Husband.” I followed the whole protocol: early morning sunlight, zero microplastics, daily breathwork, etc. But I've had to relax significantly since Dex arrived. Good luck avoiding plastic when most breast pumps and baby bottles are made from it, even the “glass” ones. Sanitizing often means microwaving plastic, which used to be sacrilege in my household. I've had to let go. You either adapt, or you suffer. Sometimes both :)

5. Subscriptions: Everything now requires a subscription, and everyone wants your money. The number of paid apps you’re expected to adopt skyrockets, despite any resistance. The baby monitor (we skipped the Nanit because it requires a plan). The sound machine. The nightlight. The sleep tracking app. If it plugs in, it probably has a monthly fee. So we’ve defaulted to buying the “dumb” version of everything. No wifi, no app, no notifications. Just on/off. Simpler is better when you're tired and broke.

6. Cleanliness: Welcome to hell! Sanitization becomes your new job. Bottles, pump parts, pacifiers. Anything entering Dex's mouth needs sterilizing. Constantly. It’s a draining cycle with no perfect solution. Dishwashers work but run for hours daily. Dedicated bottle washers clutter countertops. Steam bags for microwaves might save time but feel like a health hazard waiting to happen. Hello again, microplastics and cancer!

But still - I’d do it all a hundred times over. Dex is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s not even old enough to crawl, and already I feel more purpose than I ever have. I can’t wait to watch him grow. To teach him to ski, share my love of ribeyes on the grill, and make him grumpy sleeping in tents on remote backpacking trips.

So yes, my life is more complicated, chaotic, and inconvenient. In the end, you realize the inconvenience was actually the point.