It was a typical early morning of a mid-summer day. The coolness of the night was just giving way to the eager sun that would soon blanket the city with its scorching heat. That was when I caught myself in a delicate moment as the world outside hung in the balance between darkness and light, chill and heat, tranquility and noise.
Somehow, that stillness beyond my window felt even more pronounced than the dead of night. But soon, the city would come alive, resuming its vibrancy characterized by busy roads, noisy trains, and loud construction. Until then, this peace I would treasure with this baby wrapped in my arms, straddling the threshold between waking and sleeping.
Interestingly, I was in no rush to put her to sleep. With her heart pressed against mine, we shared the sweetness of the summer morning air in each other’s embrace. That was possibly the first time I realized that if I didn’t hurry to somewhere or something, a baby in my arms could be quite a blissful experience. A minute later, I found myself naturally swaying left and right, back and forth. Before I knew it, I began to trace the footsteps of what seemed to be a waltz. So, I guess I just had my first dance with my daughter.
A surge of affection surprised me at that moment. As the fog of the mundane lifted, the schedule of endless upkeep evaporated, and the screaming and kicking and crying ceased, I was finally able to, in a manner of speaking, see my daughter soul to soul. There she was, my daughter, my pride, my love.
The ethereal crystal of our bond instantly grew to occupy my heart, then rapidly outward, capturing everything else in the world and seizing them toward the single focus of this moment. I became almost too afraid to breathe, lest a quiver of my lung shattered the most pristine mirror of this perfect scene.
That moment was destined to be too good to last, though. It was as fleeting as sudden in coming. I could practically hear the clock returning to its original speed as everything around me thawed to normality. Reality wiggled its bottom a few times on its throne before finally settling in. I knew it wouldn’t take long to claim supremacy once again by brandishing the tasks and responsibilities that were all too familiar to me.
No matter! I didn’t need to grasp and squeeze a beautiful thing in order to treasure it anyway. Let the wind take it, for I knew it would find its perch on me again someday. For the time being, I had my baby. The same contours of her face, the softness of her body, and the blissfulness of her countenance became especially endearing that day. I couldn’t help but wonder, where had such a marvelous feeling been these whole two months?
I did remember how I felt on the first day. There were excitement, exhilaration, and love in the air, but too much nervousness and anxiety were also mixed in that concoction of a feeling to grant me anything near an undisturbed appreciation for this new life. If the nurse had handed me a bomb, I imagined I would not feel much different.
“How should I handle her? Is this too tight? Too loose? Will she fall apart? Why does she feel like a tube of gelatin?” I felt there were a million ways to break her and my only option was to choose which one. That was certainly not the ideal bedrock for affection. When the irrationality finally subsided and I was able to touch her without freaking out, the actual grind of keeping her alive and healthy began. Without reiterating the shock, surprise, despair, and struggle, let’s just say that fuzzy feeling was slow in coming.
My daughter and I came to an agreement that the priority back then was her survival rather than affection. I accepted that she needed time to warm up to the idea of life and the gigantic man who refused to leave her alone. We would take our time to get used to each other’s temperament, our whole new lifestyle, and her slow and steady growth of the mind. Until then, I would continue to love her unconditionally and care for her every need, even if she looked like the Grumpy Cat half the time.
After two full months, I finally tasted the fruit of my labor. She carried a big toothless smile when I walked into her field of vision. She began to cling to my shirt like her own dear life rather than pushing me away all the time. She grew to enjoy reaching for my beard and the feeling of its texture. Those and many other telltale signs were suggesting her burgeoning capacity for happiness, contentment, and love. Every small increment brought me tremendous consolation and compounded my joy. They were well worth the wait.
As she sank deeper and deeper into her slumber, I could only wonder what dream was giving her the giggles. With her securely attached to my chest, I couldn’t help but feel like a perfect piece had fit into the puzzle. I gazed outside where the light had claimed yet more dominion over the sky, and felt a renewed hope for us, and for this family. The better was yet to come. She would grow, so would our challenges, and so would our affection.
~Du
