Moments to hold on to
Many parents have said ‘it’s so hard to remember’ when I’ve asked them about when their child was a baby. They mostly blame sleep deprivation and stress (fair enough), but I think time plays a big role because the changes happen so quickly as your tiny human grows to be less tiny. Even now I look back on the first few months as a haze of joy, delirium and figuring-it-out-as-we-go. Because of this, I’ve decided to dedicate a post to some big and small moments of the first few months of our little sunshine’s life that I’d like to hold on to.
When B was born, they placed him on my wife’s chest and she kept saying softly ‘I’m your mum… I’m your mum.’
I’d just witnessed hours of her enduring unimaginable pain, with many people rushing in and out of the room as nothing was going to plan. It was stressful, and it was loud. Her screams were unrecognisable and bounced around the room like a ping pong ball, gaining speed and force with every hit. But once that baby was out, it was quiet. My wife was quiet. And she was so gently introducing herself to the person she built with her own body and soul. Everyone talks about the amazing love you feel for your baby when they first enter the world, but for me in that moment, all my love and admiration went to her.
The best life admin I’ll ever do.
No one told me how fun it would be to fill out the name registration for the baby. I completed it the day after he was born, with my legs crossed on the hospital fold-out bed, knowing that it was no. 1 on my pre-prepared task list as a new Dee (no. 2 was ensuring he was on our ambulance cover, no. 3 was keeping an eye on him at all times).
It was so exciting to write down the name we’d spent years pouring over. In that moment I saw myself writing it on the inside of school bags, and on birthday cards, and I imagined him writing it down on job applications, travel declaration forms, wedding guestbooks and artwork he’d made for us at school. Who knows, perhaps one day he’ll write it on a name-change form to change it to something that suits him better. Regardless of his journey it, his name and documented-self started with me, Parent 2, writing it down with absolute glee.
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you
Every night, at all hours, I’d stand in the corner of our dimly-lit room holding B and sing him to sleep. One night, when he was about eight weeks old, I picked him up and started singing the unusually depressing, baby classic, You Are My Sunshine. He nuzzled in and smiled at me, then loudly coo-ed along. He had only just started finding his voice, so it was surprise to us that he sung the entire verse with me. Not very conducive with being asleep, but a magical, heart bursting moment that I’ll never forget. What a deep honour to share music and love in this way.
The sweetest compliment that stays with me
I loved introducing B to people (still do). When he was only a few weeks old, my appropriately-vaccinated sister-in-law visited. She held him up, gave him a big cuddle and said ’you’re so lucky where you’ve landed’. There was something so precious about it, and spiritual in nature; like the universe chose us to raise this little life because by fate, he landed here. The way she spoke directly to him too; at that point he was so fresh that I wasn’t used to other people talking to him. It was quite possibly the most beautiful, meaningful thing anyone’s ever said to me (well, near me). Funny thing was it was a fleeting moment, that she likely wouldn’t even remember. My wife didn’t recall it either when I told her later. I’ve thought of it many times since, and often find myself thinking ‘no, we are the lucky ones’.