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Thoughts on being a parent

August 9, 2007 on 10:20 pm | In Blah blah blah |

Nothing prepares you for becoming a mother or father for the first time. Sure, we read the books, went to the antenatal classes, and of course we knew friends and family with young babies. You can study and learn and ask questions all you want, but it won’t prepare you for that day when you finally get the little one home and there’s just the three of you.

Babies cry. This everyone knows. However it’s different when it’s your own kid. You can’t hand her back to her parents, or politely make excuses and leave. You have to deal with it. I have never been more stressed out than when I’ve been watching Evie bawling her little eyes out, having already been fed and nappy-changed, wondering what on earth she was crying for. The noise of the crying itself, even though it probably isn’t that loud, is extremely distressing (as was intended by nature I guess) and hurts the eardrums more than it should. Thankfully, she’s settled down a lot since the early weeks when we were both going spare.

Then there’s the poo. Despite the horror stories you hear about babies’ poo, Evie hasn’t been too bad. We’ve had the occasional ‘industrial accident’, where the brown* stuff has escaped the nappy enclosure, but generally things have gone okay. I continue to be amazed by the escape velocity of the stuff, however. One time I had Evie sitting on my knee when she dropped one with such force that some of it shot up her back! That wasn’t pleasant to clean up, I can tell you. Unfortunately we’re having to use disposables at the moment: although we’d bought reusable nappies before the birth, we’ve experienced more leaks using them than we were prepared to put up with, so we’re environmentally unfriendly on the poo front I’m afraid.

One word you need to get used to hearing from people when you have a new baby is ‘colic’. Baby crying a lot? Colic. Generally irritable? Colic. Arms and legs flailing wildly? Colic. Projectile vomiting? Colic. Baby’s head rotating 360°? Er, probably colic as well. Talk about a catch-all diagnosis. Just remember that the magic potion Infacol is your trusty weapon against the evil colic spirit possessing your child. It also smells pleasantly of oranges.

So, nearly three months in and it’s been one hell of a rollercoaster ride, but neither myself nor Paula would change Evie for the world. She can cry her eyes out and drive you up the wall, but one smile and a babble or two is enough to forgive everything and bring tears to your eyes (and if saying that makes me a sad git then so be it).

Becoming a father is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

 * of course, it isn’t always brown…