What's it like to hold a baby? It's good, better than I had thought, but it has it's up and downs. For the most part I get to hold Amelia when she is fed and happy, content to sleep or gurgle at me. Sometimes when Chelle hands her to me she immediately starts to cry, like she can smell the fear or the lack of milk ducts near by. I'll bounce her on my knee for a while and talk silly to her in hopes of calming her, but to no avail, she only wants her mother. When I hand her back I'll tell Rochelle that Amelia and I are not speaking at the moment, and that if she will behave herself I might hold her again. And even though the baby is the one that is crying, it's really me that is disappointed.
This morning whilst Chelle slept for a while, Amelia and I watched a movie in the den. She was awake for a bit, struggling to keep her eyes open, each one drooping independently until they eventually closed and she slept. I smiled at her and really just enjoyed watching the way she slept, the movie forgotten in the back ground. She would grunt and chortle, her hands and fingers clenching at dream boobs, and occasionally twisting her face into a frown or pout. It was very peaceful.
Then she farted.
Like she had eaten an entire field of broccoli and washed it down with a case of beer. I could feel the reverberations in the frame of the lazy boy we sat in. It was as if she had been possessed by a 320 pound line backer who was carb loading, but had been sidelined with gastrointestinal issues. It was epic, like a hundred million dollar blockbuster. She actually woke herself up. I mean... man, I am 40 years old this year and have never woken myself up from farting (although maybe some other people), and this little thing blasted herself right out of dream land.
I could hear Rochelle's sleepy muffled voice from upstairs "Was that you or her?".
So...I figured a change was in order. I paused the movie and took her upstairs to change her diaper. It wasn't as vile as it sounded and things went well (I fulled expected a labeler), and we returned to finish our movie. Amelia sat quietly, her eyes shifting side to side to follow the lights on the TV, and eventually her head rolled back and she fell asleep against my forearm. A feeling of warmth came over me, spreading through my chest like...like Amelia was peeing and it was leaking onto my shirt. Sigh. I could swear she smiled.
Last week Chelle and I took Amelia to the Farmers Market in Halifax. I loaded her into her carrier, the kind that is like a front sitting back pack. The place was crowded but most people moved, or shifted to let me pass. Other bleary eyed fathers with their front loaded babies gave subtle nods to me as we passed, like members of a resistance in fear of open acknowledgment. Lots of grandmother types stopping me and asking the same type questions. "Oh, How adorable...How old is she?" or "Goodness Gracious, What a precious package! How much does she weigh?". One older lady pulled Rochelle aside and asked her if our baby was particularly small or if she just looked small because I was really big. Hmmm. Anyway, we battled through the crowds and ate Samosas,sushi, drank lattes and bought some cheese. Amelia slept unaware through the whole thing.
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| mmm rum balls. |
We met some friends for dinner last week and Chelle, of course, took the opportunity to dress Amelia up. Amelia never made it out of the car seat.
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Finally, I'm going to start filming AMF every month or so for five minutes. Just so you folks can see how she is. A virtual baby holding if you will.
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