Many conversations have been had about whether love at first sight exists. As if love is such a complicated thing it warrants such discussions. As if love at first sight lessens the wisdom of our own feelings. Having kids now, I believe love is much simpler and at the same time, love is extremely wise. I can be in love without ever meeting. I have the capacity to love just knowing, just the possibility, just the thought of a new child. I can easily fall head over heals at first sight. It undoubtedly happened with both my children. I'm sure now, it has happened with others in my life.
The larger discussion is whether you can truly know someone at first sight. This I will debate with anyone. The process of love is full of surprises, not the least of which is the unfolding of ourselves to others. The pealing away of each layer reveals a new truth and each truth reveals further, sometimes contradicting truths. The difficulty is that we are changing and developing over time and love must accept this. Love motivates me to reveal myself and to further explore my loved ones. It is the first true step in a mutual journey of self. I can't really know someone but I can explore them and love them in the process.
So the exploration begins with Daire. The personality of an 8 weeks old does not compare to the maturity and perplexing challenges of a 3 year old, but he is revealing himself to us.
He is an even-tempered baby. He cries rarely but for four reasons: milk, comfort, touch and routine. The last reason is the most surprising to me and one is which I'm sure Dana was not as keen. As young as 2 weeks old, Daire has proven a perceptive observer of the patterns of the day and night. The most dramatic example of this is our night time routine. After Dana is put down for the night, this consists of a journey to the basement where I sit on the couch, hold and nurse Daire while until he passes out for the night. Any deviation from this and his even temper is replaced with fussy insistence on returning to it. He expects this to the extent that he will protest until I reach the basement stairs at which point he is assured and quiet while I settle in. It reveals to me his need for the familiar, but also his keen awareness of routine. He makes connections between the time of day, the people and the place he is and is comforted by his expectations.
He is a noisy baby asleep and awake. His impersonations are diverse: goat, horse, cat, squeaky door, pig, whistle, drowning mouse. Sometimes it sounds like he says words like "Ok" or "yeah". The first night was impossible to sleep he was so loud. Since then I've discovered that the sounds he makes are sometimes connected to the motion of his body. An arm stretches and a goat mew accompanies it. His head turns with a cluck. He squirms constantly and the noises are endless. If he is swaddled the it subsides, but by about 4 or 5 am he is back to his original noise making.
My favorite sounds are the coos while he nurses and the satisfied sigh as I hold him, a contented expression of love. There is an openness in these sounds that invites me to adore and wonder over him. They remind me that we are defined by our love and sameness.
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