Having arrived a little early, and having inherited my delicate features, Grace was a touch on the light side. Having weighed in at 6lb 6oz, the first week or two saw little Grace shrink to a littler still, feather-lite 6lb. Now, apparently babies are apt to lose some of their birth weight…up to 10% is just about acceptable…and Grace was at around 8% so no need to panic. Apart from midwives and health visitors popping round every two or three days with their sets of scales, checking as each and every ounce was being put back on. Or not. It did get a bit stressful, but we could see she was happy, healthy and progressing in her own way, at her own pace. Something I think we will keep returning to over the next, many, years.
Those early weeks were….if memory serves well….pretty uneventful. Grace slept. She fed. She slept. She fed. She slept. She fed. There wasn’t much crying through the day and night. There was the odd early morning pacing around in the dark, downstairs with Grace on my shoulder thinking sleep…and morning would never come. But both always did. Most of the time however, my abiding recollection was of a good natured, calm, easy going baby.
And by and large, she still, absolutely is.
I guess having left fatherhood quite late in the day, and not having been around many babies for any length of time, I was perhaps understandably worried that it was not something I was going to take to. By the end of that first month (by the end of the first day really), it was clear that I needn’t have worried. I already couldn’t imagine a life where I didn’t have this tiny bundle of joy in my arms, dependent on me and the most important thing in my life.