Yesterday I had a voicemail from the doctor whilst pushing my sleeping baby round H&M. “Hello” it said, ” This is a message for Samuel’s Mummy”. Woah. I listened to it again and my chest inflated for the millionth time this month with a giant bubble of this-can’t-be-real. That’s me.
It’s been three and a half weeks since our incredible little boy arrived with the dawn chorus. Not a day has passed when I haven’t asked if this is really happening. I’m not going to wake up. He’s ours to keep. He came from nowhere and he’s ours. To keep.
His minature face we could stare at forever more. This tiny person is so loved. When his Daddy had to go back to work last week, he described the painful clock watching as waiting for the all the best Christmasses rolled into one, when you know you’re going to get the present you always wanted. This bubba has turned us into a soppy pool of sugar coated besottedness. But I think that’s to be expected. We were pretty soppy anyway.
The days are flying by. Far too fast. It’s a little bit like when we went to Japan. But on steroids. That desperate need to soak up and squeeze every single moment and each dainty hair on his fuzzy shoulders into any remaining crevices of our saturated memories. I don’t want to lose a thing. To be honest, the poor chickpea has had my iphone waved in his face for a shameful percentage of his life thus far. I am pretty grateful for instagram for allowing me to bottle just a few of these moments (I’ve tried to restrict it to one post a day but sometimes this proves tricky. He’s too damn cute).
We’ve learnt a lot so far. At first Sam wouldn’t sleep on his own. It’s still not often that he’ll let us release him from our warmth. The Mothercare swaddle blanket has been our saviour, repaying us with at least a few stretches of overdue slumber. Other times at night he’ll lie next to me, which, with his warm little whisps of milky breath and farmyard squarks against my cheek is fine by me.
Those noises though. Sam will grunt and strain louder than I thought possible from such a tiny creature. In a screeching competition with the local foxes, he wins hands down. Coupled with the teeny little whimpers, each sound makes me melt a little bit more.
I love the way his little inky eyes seem to be taking in so much. He’s a calm baby so far. He can be so still (apart from when we strip off his nappy). With just his little peepers darting about drinking up what little he can see. I’ve never felt a love like it. Total infatuation. When said peepers settle on my besotted gaze, I honestly feel like I’ve been picked out of an enormous crowd by a super-celebrity. Like, this perfect little guy knows who I am. Me! I hope he likes what he sees.
Sam loves a bath so far. I hope he will be a water baby like his daddy. His skin is so soft. J described it something like a marshmallow having a baby with a cloud. No, really. It is.
He’s good at eating. I am so fortunate to be able to breastfeed this warm little bundle. I was so sure I wouldn’t be able to and to have him snuggled up and dependent on my care is like nothing else. Jon was an immense help when it came to it. Turns out he had listened intently on that breastfeeding NCT session (far better than me) and was able to gently direct me in my exhausted cluelessness. I will be forever grateful. It’s the little things like that, along with the endless supply of support, sweet words and glasses of water that make me so appreciative of my husband. This man has been amazing, working tirelessly keeping the house spic and span when I am unable, knowing that it would make me happy. Watching him with Sam it’s obvious that there couldn’t be a better Papa. His patience knows no bounds and I have surely tested that of late.
Exhaustion and elation cohabit in this house. Naturally we’ve snapped at each other from time to time and the three of us have shared tears on the bed when the overwhelming emotions got too much. The enjoyment I get from caring for my dolly rise far above the bleary eyed haze of jet lag wobbles that occasionally show their face though. It’s hard, yes. But I’ve never felt more confident and comfortable doing something in my whole life. At last, Sammy. Taking care of you alongside your daddy is what I was made for. I’m completely in love with my family. I really am complete.