Out of the picture

Posted on September 1, 2022September 1, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 3:16 pm

You, your mother and grandmother took the car for a walk. Hampton Court I’m told. Since resuming work, you and I don’t get to hang out as much. Sad but inevitable. An alternative perspective is to see it as an opportunity for you and Julia to spend as much time as possible. Her stay with us has an expiry date so I’m letting her soak it all in while she can. She’s cherishing every moment. It’s obvious, even to Stevie Wonder.

You’ve been joyfully listening to a medley of her childhood ballads (and all music in general) and learning Russian. She only speaks to you in Russian. I find it peculiar but exciting that one day, you’ll become a non-white person fluent in the language. It reminds me of this guy’s story. Russia has a bad rep at the moment because of the war in Ukraine but who knows how another language will serve you in the future.

I, on the other hand, have been speaking to you in French, English and Pidgin English. I pick at random, unmindfully and playfully based on the mood I think you’re in. Whichever flows, I swim with it. But most of the time, I use all three, simultaneously. Good luck telling them apart. Writing this has got me wondering when a good time is to start teaching a child multiple languages. My gut says whenever. Let’s see.

With your grandad returning to Riga (he misses you a lot by the way), we’ve been taking turns looking after you. Each night is split into two shifts. After eleven, you tend to wake up between 1:30 and 2 am. That’s the first shift and the first changing of the guard. From then, you typically sleep through the second shift to six. I’m usually out of the picture beyond then, getting ready for work.

As anticipated, I spend most ~~school~~ working nights on the sofabed in the basement. Once I’m up, going back to sleep is very hard. Regardless of the hour. You already know this. My mind thinks it’s the best time to start showcasing all the different things I have to do. Imagine having to sit front row to a catwalk of tasks twirling at the front of the runway, to and fro, in the same outfits, repeatedly. Yeah, fuck!

My body soon joins the nightmare after a while, at which point it’s near impossible to sleep until the early morning hours when I actually have to be up. Somehow, I find it difficult to disconnect when I have incomplete to-dos. I have a lot of to-dos. Your uncle Manu once asked me how I manage to do all these things, when do I sleep? I don’t. That’s how. Looks like only death will free me too.

There was a time I used to drink to sleep. A bit of gin and tonic to shut my mind up was the remedy. Every time I did, Liza would go, “are you drinking every day now?”. It was never daily but I got tired of hearing it. I knew it was her way of calling out a red flag. But the conscious inaccuracy of the question was super annoying. So I stopped. Probably for the best. You’d have a drunk for a father by now. And believe me, you don’t. I would know.

I’m also a super light sleeper. Any sound or fidgeting will wake me up. Right now, all you do is wriggle. A lot, especially during the second shift. You also make these choking outbursts with every twist and turn. It doesn’t only wake me up but it’s also worrying and anxiety-inducing. I have to keep checking the camera feed to make sure you don’t have a muslin over your face, suffocating in your own vomit or something dreadful. So to sleep, I’d have to smother you. That’s the only way. Your mother won’t allow it so I guess I’m downstairs for the time being. I overheard her saying to you, “you’ve split up the family”. She’s not a fan of this new sleeping arrangement. Fact. But we need this cadence to make this work.

In other news, you’ve also started making new sounds. We can tell when you’re happy and playing versus discomfort. You’re evolving very fast.

We’re also going to tilt your crib to reduce the effects of reflux. One of my friends told me he wished someone had told them about that when they had their first. In his words, these were “THE MOST stressful times”.

On track

Posted on September 2, 2022September 3, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 9:37 am

I’m at the Shy Horse charging the car for a trip to Southend to pick up my work laptop. Don’t ask why it couldn’t be posted. Some gibberish about security. Mmkay. But they’re paying me for it so, whatever. The risk-reward ratio isn’t mine to establish. Their money, their rules.

A health visitor showed up as planned to record your weight. Liza just messaged to say you are tracking well at 5kg, in just under a month. That’s ace! Dashing back to pick her up now. She’s coming with. You’re spending the afternoon with your grandmother.

A month today

Posted on September 4, 2022September 5, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 7:19 pm

And just like that, a month has gone by. I look at you and think just how meaningless the concept of time can be. It’s a man-made construct unworthy of the hyper-focus and attention we give it. Whether it’s Monday, Thursday or Sunday is irrelevant to you. Your needs remain the same. There’s a life lesson in that I’m sure. Today is tomorrow and tomorrow is today.

We walked to Marc and Jess‘ place yesterday. Time flew by as we talked for hours. It was great catching up with them and their family. Their kids are so big now. Noah and Luca couldn’t be dissimilar if they tried. We almost forgot you were with us.

The problem with air

Posted on September 10, 2022September 10, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 4:26 pm

You’re out with your mother and grandmother to meet Rozalia. You guys should be back soon I imagine. I hoped to work in your absence but to be honest, I haven’t been up to much. It’s been a rather unproductive couple of hours. I do have a crockpot going though so dinner’s looking very enticing.

For lack of better adjectives, yesterday was… interesting. You were vocally unsettled when Liza brought you back home. She’d been out catching up with Gianna. You are currently the trophy she proudly parades and presents to all her friends. A major life accomplishment. It was Neta before Gianna, the women from our NCT group before then and Rozalia today. She flaunts you with triumph and jubilation. Thankfully, you seem to also love being out so the relationship is very much symbiotic. All parties get a piece of the pie.

But yes, yesterday. Interesting. Apparently, you were fine (as usual) until they tried to car seat you, which is when you went hysterical and ballistic. There was no comforting you either which for a parent (as sensitive as your mother) can be very stressful. To worsen things, you weren’t hungry or needed changing. Liza said you cried halfway through the journey back. I’ve heard you cry son. It can drive a car into oncoming traffic. Kudos to her for bringing you both back sane and alive.

The roundtable at home deduced you were probably gassy and needed relief. That’s all the prognosis I needed. With that, I took to the internet streets, combing for answers. I stumbled onto this and this which helped normalise the situation by explaining why and suggested methods of relief, respectively. Both were insightful and very helpful.

Though silent in Julia’s hands, I could see the strain and discomfort in your face, wrinkled like that of a 90 year old. Taking you from her came with screaming and yelling, so loud I’m astonished your lungs are still in place. I placed you on a square blanket on the floor going through the exercises in the video. God, you’re loud. I ignored it and before long, you were quiet again. I carried on. And soon, you were your usual self. It worked. Like a charm. Phew!

You stayed on the floor a while, happy to be left alone, enjoying your own company. You got all chatty and smiley. I don’t have the event in pictures (and if I did, I wouldn’t call myself a fit father). But I do have some from the week just gone.

Black and white

Posted on September 14, 2022September 27, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 7:08 pm

Another health professional showed up yesterday. You’ve gained a whooping 20g. Not taking giant weight leaps is normal she said. Besides, given how big you came out (and continued growing), a plateau was expected.

Notwithstanding, you’ve grown in other areas. You’ve got some control over the stability of your neck. I mean, it’s still loopy as fuck and you’re pretty much a bobblehead figure but there is a noticeable difference. So here’s to time (and milk) which should help in that department.

Oh! I was going through some trousers and found the coin I picked up when we were in the hospital. That was oddly satisfying. You should always check your pockets before you get rid of your clothes. Who knows, you just might find a facemask and a pound.

Speaking of growth, a lot of your clothes are too small for you now. Thankfully, your mother doesn’t need an incentive to buy you stuff. So obviously, she’s gone to town adding to your wardrobe. She didn’t stop with the bits from John Lewis the other day. No, no, no sir. A delivery arrived today with some Autumn/Winter clothing. The package had Polarn O. Pyret written on it.

I have to tell ya, those Swedes have mastered the art of everything kids. That extends from clothing to lifestyle and education. Where were they when Eminem was growing up huh? They had the chance to ruin him with happiness but passed on it. Now, all we have is this great music to deal with.

We’re not moving to Sweden anytime soon but those fuckers really know what they’re doing when it comes to the well-being of children. The rest of us are mostly winging it. So yes, unsurprisingly, the outfits are cool and very practical i.e. zips not buttons. By the way, I am exaggerating when I say “gone to town”. You do need bigger clothes and she’s not been excessive at all. Hell, I had to buy bigger swaddles the other day. You’re such a reptile.

Going through Beiens visual stimulus cards

Most interestingly though is your reaction to these Beiens visual stimulus cards, along with this fold-out board. You get all excited and talkative looking at them. It’s pure voodoo the way you get spellbound and start chanting gibberish.

All the while, I’m wondering if it’s the same squares and triangles the rest of us are seeing.

We have a six-week check-in tomorrow at the hospital. Liza has the details. It’s on the calendar invite I’m sure.

…checking…

Yea, at Portland with Dr Maalouf. I have no name jokes to go with that. Maybe tomorrow. But we’ve got a few questions, like how do we know if you’re allergic to anything? We aren’t, but you could be. And we don’t want to find out at A&E.

My bad

Posted on September 16, 2022September 27, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 9:44 pm

Right, I may have sold you a bit short yesterday with the whole bobblehead thing. Dr Erskine was super impressed I could sit you upright in a chair unaided. She said most babies don’t achieve this until about three months into life. So yeah, I stand corrected. I take that back. You have some neck strength.

That was the first appointment after we left the keys with Peter at the usual car park. It was a final checkup for Liza post-delivery. Ms Erskine said she’s recovering well and gave her the all-clear (after a little tête-à-tête in the side room). She’s medically sound and everything is as it should be. The good doc did advise to keep you breastfed til at least three months, quoting there’s no scientific evidence to prove benefits beyond then. I think your mother will stop thereafter.

Dr Maalouf was actually quite funny, unintentionally. He said you had “a big head” and we burst out laughing. But I think he was genuinely trying to say your head was quite big for your age, “in the upper ten percentile of babies” he said, showing us some graphs. He didn’t strike me as the humourous type.

In fact, he came across as direct and exact. His sentences were short and his instructions were lean and without fat. I for one can appreciate brevity. During your examination, he completely ignored me, solely addressing your mother. He would say things like “mum, take his clothes off, everything”, “mum, put his head here”, “mum…”

I feel like other people would take offence to that. But I didn’t. I think it’s cultural. Liza thinks he’s Lebanese. As with Africans, it’s likely they think anything baby related is the mother’s duty. The fathers may as well be absent, as long as the cheques keep coming. I’ve seen this movie a million times over so I didn’t feel insulted by the no mention in that moment of parenting.

Thinking about it, he probably has no clue what he’s doing or insinuating. My passiveness is assumed, expected and accepted. It’s all instinctive to him. However, I did ask your mother if she wanted me to take over and she declined. So there is that. She assumes the role fully.

When we got there from Duck and Rice, you weren’t even on the list to be seen. From my seat, I could tell your mother was giving them the whole “not my problem, I have a confirmation email and we’re here so make it happen”. All done through body language. She had her arms folded and stood sideways, facing me instead of them, stern, unchatty and giving yes/no responses. Feet were shuffling and the desk was giving a song and dance about the error but she visibly couldn’t care less. That’s what my eyes could see at least.

We sat down with Dr Maalouf to discuss your examination. You’d been a grownup about it as usual and only showed a glimpse of discomfort when he checked your hips. Somewhat unexpectedly, you were well above average with every metric. You had a big ol’ head, tall, and weighty.

We asked about allergies to which he said, “give him everything, the more the better”. So your mother has an open buffet to eat from. Whatever she likes. You’ll taste it all through breastmilk. When you were born, the paediatrician made a comment about your legs. He fielded my question, “his legs are fine”. Then your mother asked about the advisory food limit prescribed by Aptamil, to not exceed the 750ml of milk within 24 hours. “He’s a big boy, if he wants 800, 900ml, give it to him”. With that, you’re writing your own guidance chart.

In conclusion, you have a clean bill of health, “perfect” as he put it. “I’m very happy, congratulations mum and dad”. That was the only time he acknowledged my role. He handed over his card for questions and instantly booked us in for a follow-up in a month (to avoid any more calendar mishaps).

You’re due vaccines at two months. Your mum and I need to decide where to have them, whether locally or at Dr Maalouf’s. There’s a drive and cost implication of course. It’s free at the NHS (but there might be a waiting list). I’ll default to whatever Liza decides given she has more free time to look into these matters. She typically presents her findings and we make a joint decision. I expect no different.

Alright Spitson, see you at the next one.

PS – Spitson is one of many nicknames I’ve given you. This one is for all the spitting and vomiting. I’ve also called you Puffcheeks and Smelly for obvious reasons and Fruitloops for how ~~girly~~ colourful you can be at times. Your mother dislikes the latter but it’s all in good fun. I still get called gay, all the time, about as often as all the people who called you ~~Lian~~ Liam today. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve called you by your name more than once. Liza does it all the time. It sounds so formal and alien (to me) when she does. I prefer to be more playful.

5 hours, at long last

Posted on September 23, 2022September 27, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 11:12 pm

You and I did a little experiment last night. It wasn’t planned or premeditated and I was ready to u-turn if my expected results didn’t pan out.

Normally, when you go down at eleven, you tend to eat again around two, plus or minus 20 minutes on either side. But in a spur-of-the-moment, I decided to ignore our usual cadence. Even with your eyes fully closed, I could hear you toss, turn and grumble. But I ignored it, opting not to wake you up fully like I often do. I wanted you to decide between sleep and food all on your own accord. Whatever the choice, I was willing to oblige though hoping for the former. And that’s exactly what I got.

But I couldn’t be sure, so I went downstairs and brought up a warm milk bottle in case you changed your mind. You live on the extremes of your emotions. Every reaction seems profound and exaggerated. Hysterically happy or sad are milliseconds apart as far as you’re concerned. A switch to the latter is instant, loud and difficult to ignore (but thankfully fairly easy to dampen). So I was on edge but prepared. The room was a little cold so I wrapped my t-shirt around the Tommee Tippee anti-colic bottle and placed it under the spare pillow.

I closed my eyes and woke up more than an hour later around 3:30 am. You were still asleep, blurting out the occasional grunt. If you screamed bloody murder now, I’d have to dash down to make you a fresh bottle as the milk can only stand for an hour. At least so I thought. Checking now and the advisory notice is actually two hours. I just sent your mother a screenshot so she knows. She’s the source of the one-hour life span.

By the way, I ordered earplugs which will hopefully cut out your snorting. Yours are very worrying sounds. They kept me in and out of sleep till about 4:14 am when I checked the time. I got up and prepared ~~150~~ 180ml of Aptamil thinking you’d be starving.

You were still asleep when I undid your swaddle. As expected, you woke yourself up a few minutes later and by 4:24 am, you had a bottle in your mouth, ~~eating~~ sucking ferociously like there was no tomorrow. You still didn’t go beyond your normal 150ml though.

But most importantly, I’d somehow managed (through trial and error) to get you to sleep from eleven to four for the first time, at seven weeks old. That’s great. We’ll need you to do more of that. Your grandmother is leaving on Saturday. It’s just going to be Liza and I so this would be a very timely and welcomed adjustment on your part for us.

The morning might bring another tale of tonight though. Fingers crossed they get you to repeat the feat. I have the night off after back-to-back shifts. I’m exhausted, especially after last night, anxiously waiting for you to cry and disagree with my actions.

The last time Lyn and I were in Cameroon, she gave me some of mum’s things. These are our (and your) customs. Lyn, who now represents Mafor, gets to share her belongings among her close friends and members of the family. I took one of her outfits and eventually got it up on a mannequin when I got back. Now I get to see her every day. There’s a portrait of her in something similar which I really like. It’s a photo I took in 2018 at the house in Douala.

It’s been on my mind but yesterday I decided to introduce you to her. That’s how Liza got to take this picture. I had you in my arms and without leading you, you stared at her the entire pose. The same way you look at art and colours, steady and fixated. Even when I move your body, your head and eyes gaze in the same direction.

The photo was met with joy, pride and emotion when I shared it in the family chat. As you grow up, I’ll do my best to give you little nuggets of who she was and how much she meant to us. Her passing leaves a void I cannot fill, an emptiness I am learning to live with.

When you love someone wholly and unconditionally (like your mother does you), then sadly this is a tragedy you cannot escape. It is fated. You should know that. Worse, acceptance won’t make you better prepared for it. When my mother was alive, I used to think about how sad I would be if she died. The thought in itself was… But the reality was impossible. My wish is that life delays your grief as late as possible.

In brighter news, another health inspector dropped by yesterday. You’re on the cusp of 6kg, currently 5.8 and in great health. Your neck is also getting a lot stronger. I’ve been repeating some exercises I saw on YouTube getting you to raise your head and toughening your abdominal muscles. You’re doing great.

Out in public

Posted on September 26, 2022September 26, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 9:18 am

Saturday was Rozalia’s birthday. You know her right? You’ve met several times – at the hospital and the house. She was the brain behind the baby shower. We met for lunch at Chiltern Firehouse, a stone’s throw from Chotto Matte.

We got there first despite being a few minutes late. Rozalia and her fiancé Oliver weren’t long after. The original booking was for breakfast but I had to take your grandmother to the airport that morning. (That’s right, all help is now gone.) So it was logistically impossible to drive into central London in time for croissants.

The food was fantastic, probably the best we’ve had in England. Not as good as Wisteria, and definitely not as good as the places we ate at in Croatia, but imaginative and fanciful nonetheless. The quality of the ingredients shone through. Side note, if you ever want to put a smile on your mother’s face, ask her how good the food at Meneghetti was. If you can do one better with a booking, then wow, she’d be thrilled, and then some.

Chiltern’s menu was simple but creative. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure the pizza there is pretty good but we pretended that section didn’t exist. The others didn’t want to so your mother and I shared some fresh Irish oysters. For the table, we had some truffle pasta which was perfectly al dente, the grilled mackerel had a beetroot layer over it, and I didn’t know how good Pata Negra ham was paired with figs. I love figs. I had the greatest steak tartare in a hole-in-the-wall type joint in Paris which has since closed (probably due to the pandemic). So every time I see a tartare on the menu, I have to try it, mostly just to compare. This one was different, just different. The forty-eight-hour chicken was mmkay, alright. It would be for most people with an ethnic palette. This one’s for “white people”. Get me?

You were charismatic as always, adult-like and pleasantly invisible at times. Occasionally, you would scan the room, reading faces and zooming in on shiny objects. You spent a memorable amount of time looking into Oli’s soul during the early encounter.

You even took moments out of your jam-packed sleep schedule to charm the neighbouring all-female table who blushed all the way. We fed you at the start and at the end. Rozalia and Oli took turns carrying you. Their joy was expressive and exothermic.

Somewhere in the middle, Rozalia got to open the gifts your mother curated. I had no part in the shortlist, just the credit. Gifts can be tricky but she seemed tearily pleased and full of hugs.

Rather fittingly, she also took the first posey family picture, another one for the fridge. Your mother and I left you behind (with Rozalia) to wander the halls when we got up. They had a larger parlour with a bar in the middle. The mood was a vibe and the design lustrous eye candy. It was all magazine-like and deservingly uppity. It’s a place to return to.

We walked back to our favourite car park. I think we’ve met the entire staff there by now, twice over. The gentleman this time reminded me how much he liked my style. I thanked him humbly and gracefully. And we left.

Child’s pose

Posted on September 27, 2022September 27, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 10:15 am

Among the many things Kim handed down to us was this pregnancy pillow. It can also double up as a breastfeeding pillow. But despite that knowledge, we didn’t use it for either of these cases. Frankly, we didn’t need to so it’s just been sitting there. If anything I used it more than you did. I found the elevation very comfortable stretching long on the sofa.

However, it occurred to me that you might also enjoy the incline i.e. tummy time at an angle. So far, you’ve been flat on the ground, in a child’s pose. I now know why it’s called that.
Given how vocal you are about things you don’t like, I figured, worse case, you’d scream and that’ll be the end of that. But I was hellbent on trying this out.

As a general approach to life, I’ll always try to put actions behind my ideas. Sometimes they work, but most times they fail. But I never stop trying. You should know that failure is my best friend. We understand our relationship well enough. So when we meet up, we don’t get pissy with each other. I’ll introduce you soon, the earlier the better.

It took a few tries to figure out the perfect posture so I adjusted as you demonstrated discomfort, pulling you up and down the pillow. We got there eventually though, through persistence. You slept on that thing for hours, smiling through the dummy. After a while, we stopped checking if you were breathing. Yes, you were that still. We had to wake you up to eat, which you don’t like. Interrupted sleep is like a capital ~~sin~~ vice.

By the way, the earplugs are a revelation. I also got your mother the same silicone ones. We can hear you and not hear you if you take my meaning. Low end vs high end.

The swing of things

Posted on October 4, 2022October 4, 2022 by Kilian Ateh

– 3:39 am

Is it difficult to raise a child on your own?

Yes, it is. Yes, it fucking is. “Difficult” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
And if you have no children, you have no say in the matter. You can’t imagine it.

It was manageable with your grandparents, tough when your grandad left, challenging without your nan, and as far as I’m concerned, near impossible for a single parent. I don’t have enough admiration for those doing this by themselves. It’s a lot of greys I’d rather not have on my head.

The demands are relentless and the personal sacrifices are neverending, right down to basic hygiene and self-care. Some women from our NCT group are skipping showers, meals etc because they’re alone while dad is at work. I’m quickly realising, raising a child is round the clock. It’s a complete overhaul to whatever your existing lifestyle is. If you have dreams, park them.

In your case, we’re blessed that I get to work from home. I can support your mother whenever she needs a break. I’ve spent countless working hours looking after you while she had breakfast, a nap or just a moment to herself. It makes a h u g e difference to the care she can then give you when she’s recharged (and vice versa). For example, yesterday, she had to go see a dentist. That becomes a logistical nightmare if I’m away. One small nuisance after another. They compound to reach a person’s breaking point.

I guess I just struggle to see how any one person raises a well-rounded and balanced human. Not whilst they are sleep deprived, nervous about fucking up and apprehensive of the pitfalls they don’t even know about. Calm as I think I am, I find myself constantly trying to solve “what if” scenarios. The same holds true with your mother. And you don’t know what you don’t know.

I can fully understand how unforgiving one can be if in years to come an estranged parent pops out of the woodwork talking about my son this or my daughter that. I feel like I could pay to watch them die slowly and painfully. I’d hold the same grudge against ungrateful children. It must be so dispiriting to a parent if their child is so oblivious to their efforts. But empathy can be taught, and the onus is on the parent.

Hypothetically, if I had to raise you alone, I’d want to have money. With it, I can buy help, information and reliable care. I can buy access. No one can replace your mother but the right nanny can come halfway close. A support system is paramount. It’s either that or therapy down the line.

Come to think of it, loathing a child isn’t difficult at all. I can see how someone gets to such a place, quite clearly. Children give and take away so much. If you don’t find elation in what they give you, and on the flipside super precious about the parts of you that are being stripped, then resentment is a cheap sentiment to settle on. This vulnerability makes one easily susceptible to spite and aggression which can be transferred to the child, who then carries the cross (through no sin of theirs).

Today makes you a couple of months old. Hooray!

Most things are too small for you now, from clothing to the Moses basket which is meant to house babies up to six months old. I cannot see you in that thing in a couple of weeks let alone months. Your toes are inches away from the bottom and you are quite comfortably punching its walls with half a stretch. You are big and strong, long and bendy like the reptile that you are.

Also, trash talk is second nature to you now. Your blather is confident and articulate. We can hear you mouthing away in a full stomach. Stomping is the new addition. I told Liza it’s the blackness in you coming out. We love to march. So you’re doing a lot of that. Those kicks are so hard, you’ll hurt someone pretty soon. You’ve also given us so many smiles. I didn’t think I’d cherish those as much as I do. And you’ve been abundantly kind with them. Thank you.

During this time, your mother and I have also become professional spit catchers. It’s on right after that burp. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately (spitting and not vomiting, one is a problem, the other isn’t). Another interesting thing you’re doing now is crying for attention. You’ve figured out that crying gets one of us over. Within an instant of getting there, you smile and laugh. I’ve fallen for this many a time. And sadly, I don’t think I’ve seen the last of it. You little trickster.

It’s been a while since you last pooped, a few days and counting. Apparently, it’s perfectly normal until it gets to between five and seven days. So we’re all good. Besides, this isn’t the first time you’ve held it in this long only to let loose a canon in the days that followed. I was hoping that day wouldn’t be tonight. But towards the tail end of the bottle feed, the last 5ml or so, I heard the all too familiar sound. We both knew what it was, except your expression was of relief and mine was “FFS!”

How it gets to your back is a mystery to me. It sipped through your PJs, onto the changing mat… Everywhere. I stood still for a while trying to concoct a plan. This was exactly what I needed at three in the morning.

You on the other hand seemed to come alive after setting hell free – chatting, kicking, giggling, swinging your arms and bouncing around. All the while, I was trying to contain the spread, with both your dancing feet in one hand and trying to wet wipe my way back to a non-cringy facial expression. Kill me now.

Your mother was fast asleep when I dropped you off, clean and swaddled. So I sent her a text reading, “your parcel took a ginormous shit”. Ah yes, we refer to you as parcel and cargo now as well. I started it but Liza followed suit. It stems from all the carrying and exchanging that happens between us. So we’ll say things like, “come and collect your cargo”, “your cargo is fed and ready for the night” etc etc

Yesterday was also a giant step for me too. (There’s a pun on its way in there somewhere.) It wasn’t planned either. Lately, I’ve felt like I could run, or jog at least. So I decided to try. Despite the pain, I managed to complete a 4.2km run in 30mins. I was dead chuffed. I feel more like myself with every passing day.

My Dear Little Man

Category: Fourth Trimester