So today I was faced with the all-time bug bearing question every new mum faces.
I’ve heard it a lot the last 17 weeks and while usually I’m relieved I can answer to the comfort of the questioner, today was difficult.
“Is he good?”
You mean does he sleep and stay quiet? – Well yes, usually he sleeps and doesn’t cry.. unless he’s hungry, or tired, or bored, or lonely, or scared, or cold, or hot, or fancies a cry. Because surprisingly, and completely unbeknownst to me, he’s a tiny baby. (Who would have known? I thought they came out knowing the basic principles of morality?! I know some fully grown adults that still don’t know this…) So his basic survival skills don’t always allow for being a good baby. – And quite frankly Susan, last night he was an utter arsehole. I’m still sticking to my word that croup is a thing of the devil and I’m pretty sure at around 2am 666 faintly showed up on his forehead.
It’s hard enough as it is during those sleepless moments that feel like days when you start questioning your ability as a parent, your capability as a human and in the darkest times, the love for your child. That added with people’s opinions that your baby, in that moment, is bad can become an even lonelier and scarier place. It’s not about good or bad, it’s about knowing your baby is alive, healthy and while that entails the ability to let you know vocally their needs, its kept them alive thus far.
So lets all just take a minute and think about the newborn small talk (and we all know how I feel about pregnancy/newborn/general small talk) and maybe adjust the question… Like Is he happy?
Well yes, he’s beyond happy, he smiles the second he wakes up and sees me, his world lights up when Dan is around and his first gummy giggle was at Beaux. (Don’t get me started on people’s attitudes and opinions towards how she should correctly behave around him.) But maybe his happiness is an involuntary reaction to trapped wind?! He could be miserable as fuck deep down.
So is my baby good? Well he’s alive and striving and other than the croup set back and being an arsehole on what seems to be purpose at times, he’s been a perfectly perfect baby to me, but ultimately he’s just a baby, a baby that genuinely coughs and farts at the same time just as much as the next.
Here’s them at 2am. Where I was top of their guest list to Partytown. Casey did an exceptional, shouty bollox, rendition of Prince’s Kiss and Beaux just kept asking when it was time for breakfast...
-There were 4 in the bed and Daddy said “Fuck this.”-