Nocturnus Ad Patrem

I’m trying to retain something from the first few hours and days of being a father. 

There’s unlikely to be anything very original I suppose. Fatherhood is the least original experience imaginable. But between the sleeplessness, the rush of hormones, and the pure joy of things, perhaps… something.

There is a chaotic stream of thoughts and reminiscences asserting themselves in the wee hours as I walk slow-bouncing laps of the house by the dim light of a lava lamp. I peck them out one-handed with a tiny boy sleeping in the crook of my other arm.

He arrived by c-section. His mum has major surgery to recover from. I’m determined (responsible really, but determined also) to take up the heavy lifting (literal and figurative) until she’s back on her feet. 

So the night shift is mine alone in order to permit Sam the maximum of rest. 

I waddle about the house mumbling to a tiny human who is likely the only one more vexed and fascinated by these new experiences than myself. 

At 0306 with a captive audience, my mind wanders.