The Mistakes I Made in Year One — and What I’d Do Differently

I made a lot of mistakes in Claire’s first year. Some were small — miscalibrated swaddles, bottles prepped at the wrong temperature, a bath that was slightly too cool and produced a look of betrayal I still think about. Some were bigger. All of them taught me something.

I’m writing this not as confession but as shortcut. If I can save you from repeating even a few of these, the first year goes a little smoother for both of you.

I Waited Too Long to Ask for Help

The first few weeks I operated on the assumption that asking for help was admitting I couldn’t handle it. So I didn’t ask. I googled things at 2 a.m. instead of calling the pediatrician. I pushed through exhaustion instead of asking my parents to come for a weekend. I let small problems compound into larger ones because I was too proud to say “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

The pediatrician is there for exactly this. They have heard every question, including the ones you think are too stupid to ask. Call them. Text the nurse line. That’s what it exists for. The dads who call too much are a myth — the ones who wait too long are real and I was one of them.

I Tried to Optimize Instead of Adapt

I’m an engineer. My instinct when faced with a problem is to find the optimal solution and implement it consistently. Babies are not problems with optimal solutions. They change constantly, what works on Tuesday stops working on Friday, and the system you built carefully last week needs to be thrown out and rebuilt from scratch.

I wasted real energy trying to systematize things that couldn’t be systematized — sleep schedules before Claire was developmentally ready for them, feeding intervals that ignored what she was actually telling me, routines that worked for other babies and not for ours. The shift that helped was moving from “what’s the right way to do this” to “what is this particular baby telling me right now.” She was always communicating. I just had to stop looking at the spreadsheet long enough to listen.

I Underestimated What My Partner Was Going Through

I thought I understood what postpartum recovery looked like. I did not. The physical recovery, the hormonal shift, the emotional weight of becoming a mother, the experience of feeding a baby with your body — I had read about these things, which is completely different from watching someone you love go through them.

There were moments in the first months where I was so focused on being useful — solving practical problems, keeping the household running — that I missed what was actually needed, which was presence, not productivity. Not “what can I do” but “I’m here, I see you, this is hard.” I got better at this over time. I wish I had understood it earlier.

I Didn’t Take Care of Myself at All

Sleep deprivation is not a badge of honor. I wore it like one for months. I was proud of how little I needed, how much I could push through, how functional I was on no sleep. I was also short-tempered, making worse decisions than I realized, and less present with Claire than I would have been if I’d been rested.

Taking a nap when the baby sleeps is not lazy. Asking your partner to cover a night so you can sleep is not weakness. Eating actual meals instead of whatever you can grab in thirty seconds is not a luxury. You cannot run on empty indefinitely and being depleted doesn’t serve your baby. It just makes everything harder.

I Missed Some Moments Because I Was Documenting Them

I have thousands of photos of Claire’s first year. I’m glad I have them. I also know that there were moments — her first real laugh, the first time she reached for my face — where my instinct was to grab my phone instead of just staying in it. The photo exists. The memory of actually being present for that moment is fuzzier than it should be.

Take the photos. Just take a breath first and let yourself be there for a second before you start documenting. Some things are worth more as a feeling than as a file.

The Bottom Line

You’re going to make mistakes. That’s not pessimism, it’s just the nature of learning something this significant in real time, with a real person, without a practice run. The goal isn’t to make no mistakes. It’s to make them, notice them, and adjust.

Claire is two and thriving and has no memory of any of this. The mistakes I made in year one shaped me more than they shaped her. That’s probably exactly how it’s supposed to work.