Last night I plucked the little fella from his cot in the middle of the night so that I could stare at him in the darkness for a little while. I told the fella that he was crying but he wasn’t – I just wanted to hug him. In two weeks my little fella – the person I grew from seed – is six months old. I can’t cope with the fact that half a YEAR has gone by since he arrived in a blaze of glory and yet at the same time it feels like he has always been here.
Like I was saying in my last post, having a baby is NOT easy, but it is totally worth it. The last six months have showcased the most extreme sides of the fella and my relationship. We have been so far down it seemed impossible to climb back out, and then the little fella smiled or did something so awe-inspiring that all our problems seemed completely trivial and totally ridiculous in one second. Right now, on the other side of all the whispered rows (“I have been up FOR THE WHOLE NIGHT with the baby while you snored your head off” “Well, why didn’t you WAKE me?!”) our little family is by no means perfect, but it works perfectly for us.
The three of us spent the weekend in our pajamas, watching films and playing with the little fella’s toys. He sleeps through the night now but usually at about 4am he lets the tiniest whimper and either the fella or I bolt from the bed, lift him ever so carefully from his cot and snuggle him between us in the bed. It’s not because he needs it – it’s because we do. When we see those eyes flickering open for the first time on a new day, blinking his sleep away and smiling his first heart-stopping grin, we are watching a miracle, each and every day.