It’s been a slow day at work today, so I got to thinking about what it’s been like being a father to a newborn the past 8 weeks. First, let me say, it’s like nothing in the world that I’ve ever experienced.
When I look at Aslin, she just seems so amazing to me. I’m sure every parent knows what I mean. She is everything beautiful. She’s a little angel that I hold in my arms. Even when she cries. I don’t mind staying up at night holding her; rocking her; pacing the room with her in my arms. In fact, I love it. Even if she cries and I can’t get her to stop.
When I’m away at work, I can’t help thinking about holding her. I miss her so much. I feel like I’m missing out on the milimeters that she grows when I’m away. When I come home, it seems like she’s grown so much. What if she happens to say “Da da” for the first time and I’m not there? What happens if she starts crawling and I’m at my desk at work, or in a meeting? I miss it! I can’t imagine missing it. What a cruel world when in order to take care of your love ones, you have to be away and possibly miss one of those landmark events in your child’s life! That’s how I feel. Now I know that she hasn’t done any of those things yet, given that she’s only 8 weeks old and that she’s probably at home right now, crying her lungs off as Denise trys to soothe her; and that all I’m really missing is her crying, nursing and sleeping.
But …
See … Two nights ago, Aslin screamed on the top of her lungs. She was upset over something that we had no clue as to what. Normally her crying is in the tenor range, but this was beyond soprano. It was right in that range right before which a human can’t hear. How it rends your heart and ears. At this point, Denise held her, rocked her, tried to nurse her, and tried to soothe her. But nothing worked. Apparently, she was upset most of the day and Denise had barely gotten any sleep the night before and was extremely tired. So I asked Denise to let me hold her, reasoning that if she was not going to cry with Denise, Denise might as well get some sleep and let her cry with me. So I held her, letting Denise get a head start on some sleep. I tried everything Denise tried, sans the nursing. I sang to her, hummed when I couldn’t remember the words, which was often, and I rubbed her back.
Looking down at her, even with tears starting to well between her closed eyelids, a frown on her brow and her pouting lips, I thought “God I am blessed to have such a beautiful, healthy child. Thank you for letting experience such a treasure. Thank you for surrounding me with all these loving people and her amazing mother.” And she stopped crying. Holding her in my clumsy arms with her head resting on the center of my chest, rocking in our clunky, squeaky glider with the blankey that her mother made for her covering both of us, she fell asleep. I can comfort my baby girl! It’s not the first time that I was able to stop her from crying, but most of the time she wants her mom, and usually it take an hour of crying for her to stop when I have her.
So maybe … maybe she just wanted to be with daddy. Now that may or may not be true, but I’d like to think so, since I’m away from her most of the day. So maybe, when I hold her up as she tries to stand up and look around, and then she looks at me and smiles, that that smile isn’t gas from trying to burp and that she is really, truely happy to see me. Happy that I’m a part of her life. Happy that I’m her daddy.