I remember the first time I saw you, son.
I remember the first time I saw you, son. You were 12 weeks and 3 days old. Of course, I’d seen you many times before, as I’d moved though the hazy night time process of dimly lit nappy changes, twilight burping sessions, and supporting your mumma, as you drank from her hour after hour, day after day.
But today was different. Today, we locked eyes for the very first time, like it had finally come our time to meet.
You were 12 weeks and 3 days old, and suddenly it hit me - this overwhelming feeling of love - You know the one that is supposed to happen when your child is born? Well, three months in and it was happening to me now. It was like a wave had crashed over me, but instead of gasping for air, i was howling with emotion, crying with joy, tears streaming down my cheeks and landing on your soft belly.
I remember the way we stared at each other that day. Your hand grasping at my finger tip, your arms stretched up high to explore the rough surface of my cheek, and my eyes, locked on yours - prepared to stay that way forever.
Not every father, will fall in love with their baby immediately, and there is nothing to be ashamed of in this. For me, it took 12 weeks and 3 days. For others the process of love will be more gradual, so don’t compare your fatherhood journey to anyone else’s.
To all the dad’s in the thick of fatherhood, who are building the bridges of connection with their children day after day, i salute you.