The world in first couple of weeks after a new baby are something akin to nuclear apocalypse: time freezes, the rest of the world disappears, and nothing else exists except you and the baby. When there’s only one baby, it’s remotely do-able on your own, provided you have a supportive spouse who is willing to cover household chores while you are on 24-hour milking duty and functioning on about 15 minutes of sleep. It’s not fun, but somehow we pulled it off last time. This time, though, we’ll also have Yonah to take care of (itself a full-time job) along with the cooking and cleaning and errand running and quite frankly, I’m terrified.

Most new mommies have some sort of woman-power brigade ready to back them up in times of transition, armed with casseroles, well wishes and a couple of free hours to babysit your kid(s). In many Jewish communities there are even committees specifically devoted to recruiting people to cook meals for families with newborns. In my case, my woman-power briagde was my mother. It would go without saying that the minute I felt my first contraction she would have moved in here and taken over the whole show. But she won’t be here this time, so I’ve been flipping through my mental rolodex to figure out the different people who I can recruit into some sort patchwork rotation when the time comes.

When I told my sponsor about this she responded with a very simple question: “What about your Dad?”

I hadn’t even thought of that. Well, I had, but I quickly discarded the idea. It’s not that my father isn’t a loving person, but he’s a very, very, very, very busy guy. Let me put it this way: When I was growing up, the sixty-five-thousand-dollar question was always, “When is Dad coming home?” He has always worked insane hours and the little free time he has is spent either studying talmud, riding his motorcycle all over the tristate area to attend a wedding or spend Shabbos with friends, or working on his baby/Torah-learning website, Tosfos.com. Since his life is basically filled to the brim, I just assumed he wouldn’t have much time to spend here playing house with us.

“Why don’t you ask him?” my sponsor said. “He might surprise you.” So I did, and wouldn’t you know it? He did surprise me. In fact, he downright blew me away.

Instead of the hesitant, let-me-check-my-schedule response I expected, Dad was practically tripping over himself to volunteer his services. “Now that Mom’s gone it’s my job to step in and take her place,” he said. When I mentioned I was going to need coverage for about two weeks after the baby comes, he replied, “Well, between vacation time and working from home I might be able to pull it off.” I thought he’d be able to spare two days, three tops. Two whole weeks?!? Unbelievable. He actually seemed EXCITED about it. Who knew?

This is just another lesson to me that sometimes all people need is a chance to be needed and they will show up for you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. It is also a reminder that even from bad things can come good. I’ve experienced a number of blessings as a result of my mother’s death, including a much closer, much deeper relationship with my father. Whereas before it was a catch-as-catch-can, surface kind of relationship, now we have real talks. We share about our lives. Sometimes, he’ll even call me for advice and the occasional chicken recipe. It’s a beautiful thing.

Tomorrow morning we’re off bright and early to New York, where we’ll be babysitting three of my siblings-in-law and my three-year-old niece until my in-laws come back from Israel on Monday night. Sound exhausting? You bet. I have already drawn my line in the sand: I am on Yonah duty and THAT’S IT. Come Wednesday we’re heading down to Philly to visit my cousins Sam and Jodi Milkman (yes, that is their real name) and check out the scenery in Bala Cynwyd and Cherry Hill. Shuie and I are both looking forward to that leg of the trip. It feels like the beginning of a new adventure for us.

That said, I should be getting some sleep. Sweet dreams…