This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/Lonely-Ad-1422 on 2026-03-12 11:30:52+00:00.
My son was born three days ago. Healthy, beautiful, perfect. And I say "perfect" not as a proud dad cliche, I mean it in a slightly unhinged way.
The photos. I have 500 photos in 72 hours. He has not done anything interesting yet. He sneezed once and I got twelve photos of it. Twelve. Of a sneeze. I don't even have twelve photos of my wedding.
The spine. Nobody warned me about "bassinet neck." I spent the first night just leaning over his bed like a goblin hovering over treasure. I am 29 years old and now have the posture of a medieval peasant.
The breathing checks. Every thirty seconds. He is always breathing. He is a champion breather. And yet my brain goes "but are you SURE though?" and I'm up again, face six inches from his face.
The crying. Mine, not his. He sneezed. I cried. Actual tears, 3am, yesterday's clothes. We are a happy, sleepless, completely destroyed wreck.
10/10. Would do it again tomorrow.
TL;DR: Had a baby, took 500 photos in 72 hours, destroyed my spine, cried because he sneezed. Completely normal apparently. Send help and a chiropractor.