Aleksander turned one month old this past weekend.
Yesterday, he had his fist monthly check-up with the pediatrician. Despite putting on an operatic display, the doctor assured us that our son is growing well and looking good. He’s almost up to nine pounds, having added about 30% of body mass to his birth weight. The day for mommy and daddy was typical for the days when we’re scheduled to be anywhere with our little one: long, hectic and hanging by a thread controlled chaos.
Aleksander’s first month of life has offered so many lessons that it’s hard to know where to begin. (Also, to note, my brain capacity is hovering somewhere around the 50th percentile as I write this, further complicating the expression of any coherent description).
The first notable thing is probably the incredibly abrupt, immediate and all-encompassing reorientation of personal priorities that comes with a new (especially first) baby. Dalia and I have lived a pretty charmed existence as a married couple. We exist very comfortably, have jobs we enjoy and numerous hobbies to keep us busy. One could say that we were completely in charge of how we spent our energy and time, and we very much enjoyed this privilege. This reality was flipped entirely on its head with Aleksander’s arrival. I’d estimate that now, Dalia’s actions are between 95-98% dictated by his needs, and mine are probably motivated about 90% towards him, her and every other thing around the house that neither of them can do.
In no way is this any kind of complaint either. The deep-seated motivation to take care of an infant feels entirely endless. All I’m saying is that this one-day-to-the-next absolute rearrangement in your life’s priorities is something to behold. And one of those annoying cliches that happen to be true – that there is no preparation sufficient and that the situation must truly be lived to be understood.
On the point of priorities, mixed in with exhausted brain fog, I’ve never been so laser-focused on a few distinct items, namely: Aleksander, Dalia, me (somewhat)… then way down the list, every other thing. I’ve always liked being non-committal to the varied aspects of my identity, flowing through them as needed. Now I’m so locked in as a father and husband that I barely see anything outside of our three person circle of life. Of course, it helps that we’re both on parental leave (shout out Canada!), so without hyperbole, both of our full-time jobs (including nights, weekends and holidays) are solely to take care of our son, full-stop.
Aside from the impact on our own lives, Aleksander has fascinated, astonished and brought us joy in so many ways. First is just the incredible, almost indescribable, cuteness of one so little. His fingernails, chubby legs, perfect ears, are just so lovingly surreal that you can spend hours just admiring them. This complete enrapture is such a clever evolutionary twist. Admiring his little beauty and acknowledging that he’s been born of you almost distracts from how fully dependent he is on you. The desire to protect and care for him is so strong and so perfectly matched to how much care and protection he needs: 100%.
As we age into adulthood, we seem to be authentically surprised and impressed less and less. Our stores of memories of life grow quite substantial and we become comfortable with a certain predictability in life. In fact, one could argue that that’s what maturation is really about: creating a stable and predictable life path. Changes come more at the pace of icebergs than ice storms.
A newborn is such a quickly and transparently developing creature that it smashes the rational and reasonable adult contexts we’re so familiar with. Aleksander changes noticeably, in some way, on a daily basis, sometimes even seemingly within a few hours. He grows, gains weight, opens his eyes, uses his voice, stops to listen, squirms his body, pauses to consider in ways that are always new, because they really are. It is nothing short of miraculous to witness. And invigorating, and refreshing, and the most lucid reminder that life at its core is about growth and discovery, and not only about doing the needful.
Of course, he has no idea of any of the metaphysical inspirations he’s stimulating – he’s too busy eating his own hand, or sleeping like a rag doll, or filling his diapers. At one month, he’s starting to focus his eyes, although he still shows no real recognition of us. In the last week, he’s discovered a few sounds that he can make that are not related to crying and we very much hope he leans into those more. Sometimes when he’s alert, in a good mood, and thinks no one is watching, his little fingers and hands dance around like twinkling snowflakes. It’s angelic and innocent and pure and makes me want to cry. He doesn’t mind when we kiss him dozens of times, smell his little head, or even when daddy cleans his armpits in the bath. He lifts his fists to his cheek as an immediate reflex when he eats and it’s just the most adorable thing you can imagine. He’s quickly outgrowing his newborn onesies, some of which I’ve grown quite fond of and am sad to see go, and will soon move past newborn-sized diapers. He makes the greatest little faces, usually just fleetingly and by accident, but you wish you could frame and forever keep every single one. He’s going through a gassy and fussy phase which can be really challenging but he’s in good hands with mommy and me, and like with all things in his life, we’ll do our best to get him to the other side of this and any other of his tougher moments.
We’re constantly being reminded by other parents to treasure and absorb these early moments because they pass by fast. In fairness, we’re mostly in survival mode so contemplative reflection isn’t always the first instinct. I’m trying to sneak in these essays and hope that between the words and dozens of photos, we’ll never forget how blessed we were in the first month of Aleksander’s life.
Dad In The World 