WW#4: A Love Poem for My Daughter

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday #4: A Love Poem for My Daughter

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-From Sonnet VXII by Pablo Neruda

I discovered this love poem in high school.  It was quoted by Robin Williams' character in Patch Adams.  While the movie didn't make a lasting impression, Neruda's poem did -- specifically the last line ("so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep").  This line rang so true with me at the time that I paraphrased it in a song I wrote ("and when your eyes close, I sleep").  I thought the imagery was powerful: to be so entwined with another person that when they sleep, so do you.

While the poem is about the love between two adults, I think it also applies to my (and Steph's) relationship with A.  From the moment she was conceived -- or more accurately, from the moment I became aware of her conception -- I loved my daughter completely and unconditionally.  It wasn't like adult relationships (Neruda's aside), where there's a point when love doesn't exist, and it has to develop or grow over time.  I don't how, or when, or from where my love for A. came.  It was just there, instantly; and it will always be there, no matter what.

From the moment my daughter was born, our lives have been entwined.  In a way, her hand on my chest is my hand.  (Genetics proves that, but I prefer Neruda's more poetic and romantic sentiment.)  And when she is sleeping contently, so too can we.  Here are a few pictures of A. sleeping.  They give me peace, serenity, and strength all in one.

#16: Mama-razzi (The random women who stalk your baby)

When you have a kid, random women come up to you (well, the baby) all the time.

People say that puppies are the ultimate chick magnet. I wouldn't know; I've never owned a dog.  But what I do know is that random women -- let's call them the mama-razzi -- flock to babies.  It happens all the time when we're out with A. 

We recently went grocery shopping as a family.  Well, Steph did the shopping while I pushed A. around the store in her stroller and did some market research for a business idea I'm working on.  Just as we were about to check out, A. got fussy and I had to pick her up to calm her down.  All of a sudden, women started appearing out of nowhere.  It was like there was no approach, just people suddenly inches away from us, making "goo goo, gah gah" sounds.  An older woman even called out yelled to her daughter several registers over to come and look at the baby.

The supermarket wasn't an isolated incident. Last week, Steph and A. came to Watertown for a lunch date and during our meal, several more people came up to us.  I would go so far as to call one restaurant employee a lurker.  Like a vulture, she kept circling our table, waiting for the baby to wake up so she could swoop in. When A. finally woke up, the woman stopped by for what had to have been the fourth time.  Fortunately, A. started crying and the woman quickly scurried off.  I love my daughter!

I appreciate the interest in A. and all of the compliments we receive.  But at the same time, it kind of feels like being a celebrity, or worse, the parents of a baby panda in the zoo.  "No flash photography please!  Let the family eat their barbecue chicken pizza in peace.  Ma'am, the cooing is going to wake the baby, and she needs her rest.  No, you can't hold her; she's SLEEPING." Seriously, you can't be out in public without feeling like your privacy was invaded, even just a little.

Do random women (i.e. the mama-razzi) come up to you and your baby?  How do you deal with it?
 

WW#3: Two Sides of the Same Coin?

Wordless Wednesday #3: Two Sides of the Same Coin?

From the beginning, everyone has said that A. looks like me.  Exactly like me.  Steph goes so far as to call her Ed-meralda on occasion.  What do you think?  Is she a spitting image of me?  Below are a couple of photos of the two of us, so you can decide for yourself.

Update: Per Chris' suggestion, I also added a picture of Steph and A.

#15: Hello Goodbye (Ciao Bella!)

When you have a kid, your life changes completely - at least temporarily.

Exactly one year ago, my wife Steph and I were in Italy, enjoying the vacation of our lives.  It was a meticulously researched tour of four cities (Rome, Siena, Monterrosso, and Florence) spanning 10 days.  I spent at least a hundred hours planning every detail.  I even created a spreadsheet (sound familiar?) with a daily itinerary of activities and sightseeing.  It was exhausting and exhilarating at the same time.

Fast forward one year, and we have a three-month old baby.  While the experience has been equally exhausting and exhilarating, our lives have changed completely.  Rome has been replaced with home.  Sightseeing with night peeing.  Red wine with bed time.  The Uffizi with little feeties.

In a way, it's like we've said goodbye to one part of our lives and hello to another.  Seeing as how "ciao" means both "hello" and "goodbye" in Italian, it's fitting and ironic that our trip to Italy marked the transition between the two.  (It also gave me reason to reference the Beatles' "Hello Goodbye" in the title, and keep my string of music/movie references alive!)

The pre-baby life -- as embodied by the Italy trip -- was all about us (e.g. exploring our passions, seeing the world, etc.).  Now, everything we do revolves around A.  Steph has been on maternity leave for the past three months taking care of her.  I dare call it the longest "vacation" of her life, but it's definitely the longest she's ever gone without working and she's done an amazing job.  I admire the seeming ease with which she's transitioned into the role of mother.

As for me, I've taken time off from playing in my band so that I can be home more to help with childcare and to soak in all the fleeting memories.  Similar to Steph and work, this has been the longest I've gone without playing drums since probably middle school.  Fortunately, I've found other ways to put my drumming skills to use.

I'm not saying any of this is bad; it's just different.  And I love every minute of it.  But I also love the old life and eventually, I hope the two can co-exist.  I'm confident they can.  Among the many purposes it served, the Italy trip taught us that.  We saw countless Europeans traveling with little kids, whether in the bustle of ancient Rome or in the rolling hills of Tuscany.

It can be done.  It must be done.  And it will be done!

In closing, I will leave you with a few of my favorite pictures from the trip, so you can live vicariously through the "old" me.  For now, I will be doing the same!

WW#2: Roll Over A-thoven

Wordless Wednesday #2: Roll Over A-thoven

A. focused intently during some tummy time.  She had just rolled over from her back to her stomach – a feat she accomplished around 11 weeks, well ahead of the 5-6 month range cited by most sources.  Ironically, this big step forward marked a step backward, as A. suddenly stopped doing the easier tummy-to-back rollover she had learned a few weeks earlier.  As proud parents, Steph and I tried to rationalize that because it was so easy, A. grew bored and quickly moved on.  But honestly, it was a bit disheartening.  Fortunately, after disappearing for a few weeks, the tummy-to-back rollover is starting to return to her repertoire.  You can’t hear it, but that’s me breathing a sigh of relief!

WW#1: Here's Looking At You, Kid

Wordless Wednesday #1: Here's Looking At You, Kid

Inspired by all of the great daddy and mommy bloggers I follow on Twitter, I've decided to incorporate Wordless Wednesdays into When You Have A Kid.  As an aspiring photographer, it gives me another creative outlet and a dedicated section to showcase some of my work.  And as a marketer who writes copy all day, it gives me a break from producing additional content for the blog.

Before I share my first Wordless Wednesday photo, I should provide a little background.  (So much for wordless, right?!)  I bought a DSLR camera right before A. was born, and I'm currently taking an eight-week digital photography workshop at the New England School of Photography (NESOP).  Seeing as how I am intent on documenting A.'s early days anyways -- after all, she was my justification for purchasing the camera -- I frequently use her as a subject for my assignments.

This week, our assignment was to explore depth of field: "the portion of a scene that appears acceptably sharp in the image", according to Wikipedia.  Simply put, depth of field refers to what's in focus in an image.  In the following picture, I intentionally focused on the toy giraffe watching over A. in the pack-n-play, leaving her slightly blurry in the background.  The photo was taken at my in-laws beach house in Marshfield over Fourth of July weekend.