Stephanie Jean Wilson lives with us now. She is 21 days old. Already life before Stephanie seems very distant and seems unfamiliar and we were saying that neither of us can imagine life without her. What did we used to do on a Tuesday night? How did we spend Saturdays? But I can still remember the now unreachable nirvana of an unbroken night’s sleep. Ah yes. Things have changed. Life has changed. She is a miracle.
The last 3 weeks have been the steepest of steep learning curves. Feeding, sleeping, crying in various combinations for various lengths of time at various times of the day and invariably in the early hours of the morning. Trying to distinguish night & day with quiet time changes and feeds at night and fun & games during the day. Tummy time. Singing songs. Projectile poo. Milk possets. Bath time is a favourite time for everybody.
Settling a crying little girl. An artform. So many tricks. Clean? Fed? Then rock slowly. Sway. Jiggle a bit. Walk long distances with her in your arms. Walk long distances with her in a pram. Sing songs. And all the time keep her wrapped tightly. Very tightly. Stephanie is a real Houdini when it comes to freeing her arms from tight wraps. Little arms wriggling. Body squirming. Red in the face with effort. Grunt. Wriggle some more. Grunt some more. And four little fingers appear magically from amongst the cloth. Adult wrapper defeated again.
Stephanie is a joy. She is everything. I read many accounts of parenthood & childbirth & they always say it is a moving experience never to be forgotten. It is commonly listed among people’s happiest moments in life. It’s something I couldn’t appreciate before now. Seeing and touching Stephanie for the first time was indescribable.
And for CJ & I to be responsible for this little one… Breathtaking.
The nuts & bolts then: born by Caesarean at 16:01, 26 October 2005. 52.5cm long. 3.5kg (7lb 13oz). Full head of dark hair. Stunningly beautiful girl.
Cath & Steph stayed in hospital for 3 nights before they came home. Driving home from the hospital with my girls in the car, I felt at once immensely powerful and incredibly vulnerable. Cars seemed to change lanes more dangerously than before. People seemed to be tailgating more vigorously than before. Already protective.
Challenges are continually presented. Challenges are continually met. Stephanie does her best, without the power of speech, to keep us informed of her thoughts. We do our best to interpret. And to show her things and to encourage. Sometimes a guidebook is useful. Sometimes advice & stories from other parents are useful. Mostly we just do what feels right. Life has never been like this before. This is life.
