Dear Fred,
Today is your fourth week with us, and the first chance I’ve had to actually write to you, as you are intent to keep me running round after you since you arrived.
You were born on the 13th July and 9.23 in the morning, after 5 hours of delivery in the pool in our dining room, overlooked by divine majesty, Uther the bearded dragon. Your arrival, despite the amount of mental build up I had conducted, caused me to mentally stop, I had a personal BSOD and it took Laura, the lady who did our photos of the birth, to tell me to go over to your mum and tell her whether you were a boy or a girl.
Now, despite my predictions, you are a boy, so thank you for proving your old man wrong from the get go. However, you are an amazing person and the greatest joy I have had is learning a little about you each day. Every day you are developing into your own person and that genuinely fills me with so much love and pride that I wonder how I can keep it all inside. Truth is I don’t and can often be found holding you in my arms, smiling at you while in tears.
Luckily we have had a relatively easy time of it (barring the sleeping which I will discuss in a minute) and you’ve given us few issues to contend with. You were tongue-tied when you landed, which caused you to be very windy when you first were eating, but a quick visit to a specialist got that all sorted for you. You didn’t cry until the nurse put a swab in your mouth, which you did not like and gave such a filthy look. With such a withering frown you certainly follow your dad’s loathing of interference. Besides a little infection that we sorted with some antibiotics that’s it for dramas so far, not bad for a month.
Now with my genes I knew you would not like the summer time, especially the stifling nights and lack of breezes, but would you just let your mum sleep for a bit. I’m now back at work, which is necessary for me to keep a roof over our heads, but you don’t let your mum rest, and as she provides you with subsidence I would suggest this is a bad tactic. Also don’t get so frustrated with your lack of mobility. You are 4 weeks old, you shouldn’t be trying to walk or crawl but you seem not to care, and are trying any and all ways to move yourself. I always thought newborns were supposed to just sleep eat and cry, but you are almost holding your head up and if a little stronger in the legs I’d be certain you would be running already. You do not need your Dad’s impatience so slow down son, and develop in your own time.
However, I think it is universally agreed you are one of the cutest babies around. Of course your mum and I are going to say that, we’re your parents and will always think you are cute, but I think most others agree you are adorable. Please keep this up as it will stand you in good stead later in life. You seem to wish to be a pirate, as you usually look at us with only one eye, especially if you have just woken up. That is unless I’m trying to get you to sleep, in which case you will just lay awake, both eyes sparkling a deep blue. So far you have reminded me both of my Dad and your Uncle Ryan, especially when you’re all frowny and grumbly. Other times I can see Grumps and I think you have your mum’s nose. You will be a big grown up, and you certainly will be doing lots of sporty things when you are older, or else you may find you inherit my big belly, which I would rather you didn’t. You are also going to be tall, last measuring had you at 11lbs 2oz, and over 22 inches long (these figures will make no sense to you as you will learn metric, lets just say your tall for your age).
Going briefly back to your arrival, I am so glad I read to you while you were in the womb. As soon as you were handed to me (your mum was delivering the placenta so was otherwise engaged) I sat there, pressed you against my chest and started to talk to you, immediately you settled and snuggled in tighter and from that second I knew that you knew that I was your dad and that memory still makes me feel the feels. Even writing this now is making my eyes mist over, must be hayfever or something (sniff).
So what have you learnt so far… in the month you’ve been here you can open your eyes, you can focus of single objects, you’re learning about shapes and colours (you like zebras but not penguins), your dexterity is improving, as you can reach fingers rather than missing hands, you make random noises with your favourite being a high pitched “oh”, like you’ve just understood some deep mystery of the universe, you know who Mum and the strange beardy one is, you know that being in a sling is a great place to sleep, and that mummy and daddy love you lots and lots.
And you know that crying gets attention very quickly.
Each day is a journey of discovery for all of us, especially you, but we are learning new things as well. I’m learning to cherish every moment I’m with you, especially now I’m away from you more often, and that I’m so proud of your mum for doing an amazing job.
Now to get 5 minutes sleep before I sing and rock you to sleep again
All my love
Dad
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