I met my son for the first time 1 week ago today. And I won’t say I wasn’t scared to hold him the first time.  There was a lot of responsibility in accepting the 6ish pound bundle.  I won’t say I wasn’t scared that something might be wrong with him. Because we were sitting in an operating room instead of delivery room. The beautiful Hannah was numb, cut open and behind a tarp instead of comfortably in a bed screaming “You did this”.

But when the nurses handed him to me I knew he was perfect.

He was tightly swaddled so I couldn’t see his hands or toes quite yet. But I could see his eyes checking out everything around us and responding to Hannah’s voice because that was the one he knew. Looking into his eyes I knew he was amazing.  When Hannah asked what he looked like all I could say was “perfect.”

She was able to see him and hold him closer in the next couple minutes but I was able to stare at him while she was sewn back up.   The bonding thing was happening.  That x-factor was there that made us instantly bond.  Allowing me to bond with this new creation that I’d never seen before but seemed to have always known.  It took a few more days for me to be tired of staring at him. To be fair I was completely tired of everything by that point and wanted sleep more than anything I’d known of life…

I was tired of not being able to know what he needed and how to provide it or if I could. I was tired of the late evening grocery and house stocking runs. Of wanting to get things done so beautiful Hannah did not think I didn’t have time. I was also sick of him sticking his foot in his diaper when I changed him. And him not fitting in any of the newborn clothes we had. Because, well, my son will most likely become large later in life but is a tiny bundle today.  He is just perfect.

Unlike him, I am far from perfection.  I keep letting him stick his foot in his diaper because if am distracted by not having the Vaseline or wipes open.  While going to get food and diapers, the only essentials now, I take corners too hard and jump curbs…but not just any curbs, the one with large ornamental rocks, that bust up the underside of my and the beautiful Hannah’s car… on the night before snowmeggdon hits our fair city and most likely will fill up the body shops with far worse issues than a small hole in some plastic.  And I have all of the concerns of most first time parents probably.  Why so much poop? Why so little?  Why is his foot doing that?  What happens if I drop my phone on his head?  Where is the children’s ER again?

But he is perfect…until he tells me otherwise.


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Filed under Adulthood, Junior, Storytime

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