What do you do at 1:20 a.m.?

If you asked me what I was doing at 1:20 a.m. about five years ago, I'm sure the answer would be much different than what I'm doing at this very moment at 1:20 a.m.

Five years ago, I was living in Lancaster, Pa., and had absolutely no revelation that I'd be getting married anytime soon. It would be a Monday night/Tuesday morning and this time of year, it would be dart league.

When I moved to Pennsylvania, my buddy Nate (one of my groomsmen) talked me into shooting darts. We played a lot at the little haunt we'd frequent for wings, games and other things, but right about now, I think you know I'd probably still be awake. In the summer, it was English darts - the kind you see everywhere. In the winter, it was American darts, a very different game with steel-tipped wood darts and the game was called "baseball." We were the Quality Inn Monday Knights. We even had our own mascot, Monday Knight Skiles, one of our friends who shot with us. I will have an American dart board in my mancave when the time comes.

Now, as I sit at my computer, talking to some people on Facebook (brother-in-law Barry included), I've just warmed up Lucy's food. She's still on continuous feeds and that means either Abby or I have to wake up and fill up the pump. This usually occurs at 1 a.m. and around 5 a.m. I say usually because I'm more apt to get up (or still be up) at the 1 a.m. refill.

We're about a week away from leaving Colorado fully. As mentioned in previous posts, Abby's dad and I drove our stuff out to Minnesota a few weeks back.

Now, all we have here is clothes and some personal things like computers, phones and mail.

So I'm now wide awake and instead of doing any work for the magazine, which I've put in a lot of time into, mainly because we also have a bustling web presence, I figured I'd do a super secret update. I don't think Abby knows I post one of these until one of her friends or parents comments on it. So basically, that's the opening you guys need to narc on me for writing at such a wee hour (especially if you're in the Eastern Time Zone, where it's well after 3 a.m.).

One thing about this apartment we're at is you have a sense of cabin fever at times. No, I'm not about to break into an episode of The Shining (although we did see the infamous hotel inspiration up in Estes Park two years ago), but we don't have much space. I'm usually glued to this kitchen table working during the day. Sometimes Abby has to prod at me just a bit to unglue my rear from the indentation that used to be a cushion.

Being a father scares me.

I think every parent is scared when it comes to raising their kids at one time or another, if not all the time. I worry about how I'm holding her right. I'm hopeful she'll just speak up and say "I need to be changed," or "I want to sit in the boppy."

At four-and-a-half months old, she's not about to break into prose. By the time some of you read this, I will either be on baby duty while Abby does some things at the office or would have just survived baby duty trying to keep Lucy from crying until mommy gets home.

Last time was an adventure. She cried for about an hour straight. Just cranky. There is no such thing as an effective manual to keep a crying infant from well, crying.

I try picking her up, walking her around, checking her diaper, sitting her in the bassonett, on the boppy, under her mat thing that has the toys dangling from above. I try sitting her on my lap ... you just don't know sometimes.

One of my biggest worries is holding her properly. With her g-tube, it has to be an unpleasant feeling for Lucy to be held the wrong way. I'm almost too slow and too meticulous trying to avoid a mistake. Abby has said I'm pretty much not able to do anything when I'm holding Lucy, that's more for fear of screwing something up than it is being lazy. At least that's what I'd like her to believe (insert snickering emoticon here).

I'm happy to get back to Minnesota. One of my friends on the wrestling message boards joked me the other day about willingly going back to Minnesota to be closer to my in-laws. Most of those in-law jokes don't apply here. I only spent 18 months in Minnesota the last time I was there and despite the bone-chilling cold, the black chunks of ice caked to your wheel wells and the mosquitoes, Minnesota is the best place I've ever lived.

I think my stress level will be reduced, as will the travel, and I too have friends nearby. We won't be on an island anymore. Having Lucy around friends and family is something important to me. I want Lucy to have the things Abby had growing up. I had some of it, but in large, there is very little in common between our family dynamics. That's not a shot by any means, it was just vastly different.

I remember complaining to my mom about going to my grandparents house because I didn't want beets and crabcakes for lunch. My grandma Eugina (mom's side) would pretty much have the same spread each time we went up. My grandma Eva (dad's side) would have a more normal spread. But even though I didn't like the hour ride up there, I enjoyed my time when I was there and I want Lucy to know her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. My family was mostly spread out from Connecticut to Louisiana when I was a kid.

I've been on two family vacations with the Los-Bryant-Braun clan and it's been great. I didn't have many family vacations and I might have only seen my aunts and uncles anywhere from once to four times a year. Even with the issues Lucy has gone through already in her young life, having that support system close by helps relieve the uneasiness I feel. I don't want to be an inadequate father.

Sure, I'll be working a lot and I feel a lot of responsibility resting on my shoulders to bring the wrestling magazine back to relevance and prominence. But ultimately, being able to work in a field I enjoy and have the rest of my nuclear family in a happier place will make everything work out.

Plus, The Busch Family (they're like a family of my own) have a sweet cabin down in Wabasha.

So that's what I'm doing at 1:40 in the morning in 2012 ... rather than sleeping on my couch in a one-bedroom apartment in Lancaster.

I wonder how old Lucy will be when she finally asks why her name is tattooed on my leg?

Eight days a week ...

The line from the legendary Beatles track has been in my head all day. Other songs have been in my head, but that isn't anything new when you consider how spastic my mind can be.

Today was Lucy's eighth day on this earth and it's been a real blessing to look over her little face, with a cute dimple on her right cheek and just wonder what her life will be filled with.

As Abby said the other day, Lucy had a CT scan on Wednesday and we found out this morning that the condition we only knew about before her birth has not been a major factor. It's been a real relief to know her hydrocephalus hasn't progressed and she doesn't need surgery now or in the immediate future. However, she might eventually need to have the shunt implanted later on, so we'll be keeping a watchful eye on how the fluid in her little head accumulates.

For Abby and I, this was a huge relief, not a total weight off our shoulders, but it takes one potential problem out of the picture, at least for a few months.

Five years ago, I never thought I'd end up getting married, let alone have a child who will depend on my care. I always wanted to get married and have kids, but the thought of it really did frighten me. This is why Abby, the rock that she is, has been the best person to share my life with.

Her parents came in on Monday and left today. They didn't seem like they wanted to leave. Harv, the normally mustached father-in-law, was tall and quiet as he watched Lucy in her little crib in the NICU. We still think it might be a number of weeks before we get to bring her home. I'm ballparking after I return from the Olympics in London.

We've started reading to her during the night care. Tonight, we're staying at the Ronald McDonald House a few blocks from the hospital. This place really caters to parents and the issues that arise with pregnancy. This place is nothing short of remarkable. This is definitely a charity we will be donating to in the future.

When I've read to Lucy, it's been like it's own little world. I zone out and look at her as she gazes up. Abby turns the pages. This is where I'm at real peace. Nothing else in this world is as important as reading to this little angel every night. After I read to her while I held her on Tuesday, my eyes welled and the emotion rushed over me. I never knew this type of love could exist.

As far as Lucy's health goes, Abby's been on diaper duty. I said I'd start in on it when we got home and there were no ears to hear my frustration. Because there WILL be diaper frustration from my end. My mom told me my dad only changed my diaper one time. Abby's assured me I will beat his record. "Poopy" stinks, even when the culprit is only five pounds.

Tonight, I saw the look of concern pour over two men who came into the NICU to see their little boys. One was airlifted in from another hospital and the look of confusion was clearly apparent in the father's face. I know what he's feeling. It's a helpless one, but like we found assurance with how well the nurses were handling our Lucy, I know he'll find the same assurance with their little boy.

So Lucy is improving and only has the one drainage tube through her nose. I hate it. I don't like seeing her with anything coming out of her nose, mouth or chest. It's again, a helpless feeling to know you can't help any more than just being there, holding her, watching her grasp your finger with those tiny little hands. We're doing everything we can and the help of the nurses in the NICU is amazing. They are true professionals of their craft and we couldn't be this stable and strong without their assistance.

Lucy's starting to show a bit of personality. She's got some of my mannerisms, which could just be attributed to not having full control over her limbs or eyelids yet. I do this one eye open thing in the morning, Lucy seems to do it. The more I look at her, the more I try to understand life.

She's being fed more, but I can't wait until the next surgery (with hope and a little bit of fear) when she will finally be able to eat normally. She's being fed more and loves her little pacifier.

So she's doing great considering what she's already been through and will continue to go through. We're thankful for all the support. I'm sorry I haven't been able to return all the texts and Facebook messages, but we were so overrun with an outpouring of prayers, well wishes and compliments, it's been a little hard to take in.

We appreciate everyone's kindness during this time. Lucy's already shown she's a fighter and she's got a wicked kick ... just ask the night nurse. I'll have to keep an eye out for it when we get her home, because if I don't, that eye will be blackened!

So that's the update, on the eighth day of the best week of my life!

JB