"New Father"
My "You're Gonna Miss This Moment" post the other day really got me thinking. I hate to over-do the topic, but quite frankly, the question of whether or not to have just one more child someday has been on my mind ( and the topic of conversations between B and I ) quite a bit lately. In addition to that, thinking it out in my head doesn't seem to be lending itself to the kinds of answers I'm looking for, so I figure I'll have a go at writing it out once and for all and then I'll leave the subject alone until our decision is finalized one way or another.
Months ago when B and I were looking through an old photo album one night, catching up on the babyhood of my oldest, I mentioned hat wonderful smell that babies have. I'm sure you know what I mean. (Some say it is the smell that keeps us from chucking them out in the snow when we realize how hard they are to care for...) But I prefer to think of it is the best smell in the world smell. Just holding someone else's baby and breathing in that indescribable sweetness is enough to leave me longing for another little one to call my own. But anyway, B was not familiar with THE SMELL. We talked about it for a bit, or rather I raved about it and tried unsuccessfully to describe it to him, all to no avail. B is not your usual kind of man. Most guys would just file this conversation away as girl stuff and forget about it. Not him. He asked his sister about it. Despite the fact that she has no children, she confirmed the existence and the wonder of THE SMELL. He Googled it. Yes--Google. I love this man. He is undeniably dorky, but I could not possibly love him more. The best part—Google confirmed everything I had told him. His response—“I believe you, I have always believed you, but I just really want to know what it smells like.” For this, Google was no help.
Months ago when B and I were looking through an old photo album one night, catching up on the babyhood of my oldest, I mentioned hat wonderful smell that babies have. I'm sure you know what I mean. (Some say it is the smell that keeps us from chucking them out in the snow when we realize how hard they are to care for...) But I prefer to think of it is the best smell in the world smell. Just holding someone else's baby and breathing in that indescribable sweetness is enough to leave me longing for another little one to call my own. But anyway, B was not familiar with THE SMELL. We talked about it for a bit, or rather I raved about it and tried unsuccessfully to describe it to him, all to no avail. B is not your usual kind of man. Most guys would just file this conversation away as girl stuff and forget about it. Not him. He asked his sister about it. Despite the fact that she has no children, she confirmed the existence and the wonder of THE SMELL. He Googled it. Yes--Google. I love this man. He is undeniably dorky, but I could not possibly love him more. The best part—Google confirmed everything I had told him. His response—“I believe you, I have always believed you, but I just really want to know what it smells like.” For this, Google was no help.
My youngest son, Z, is already fast approaching six years old. He is well past the age when the smell of babyhood passed us by. But I have noticed, with all of my children, that even after that age has passed, on rare and wondrous occasions, the smell will put in an appearance. This past Saturday was one of those precious days. Z got his bath early in the day Saturday and sometime around three he came running into my room and snuggled up against me as I was packing up to leave for work. I leaned in to kiss his head as I almost always do and BAM! It hit me. THE SMELL! It's part baby shampoo and soap, but equal parts brand new skin and magic...and there it was. I almost jumped out of my skin. I squealed--”That's it! Quick come here and smell this...” ( I know a total loon, Right?)
Good sport that he is, B came over and smelled. And sniffed again-- deeply this time. “Wow, you're right. I remember that smell a little now from when my brothers and sister were small. I can't believe I had forgotten. That IS a great smell.” I was tickled to hear him say that. It surprised me how happy I was to hear him agree. I imagined just for a moment what it might be like to have that smell around all the time for a year or two again, and to be able to watch him cuddle some tiny little person against his chest and breath in deeply with that totally mystified expression on his face. That expression I had just seen for the first time. I can't help myself. I want to see it again. I want to do it all again. The sleepless nights, the worry, the magic of waiting to see just who this new little one turns out to be. Now I worry that he might change his mind, decide that three kids, especially three kids with sometime big issues, might just be enough for us to deal with. I'm hoping not though. He has no idea what wonderful things he would be saying no to if he decides against us adding our own contribution to the family we already share. I do. More and more lately I find myself thinking that if I never have another child, I might regret it later, but I can't ever imagine regretting the decision to have another child.
I can't say it any better than Dale Hanson Bourke already has—see her article here:
PS—When starting to read my blog a few days ago, B giggled that I only refer to him as B. He may regret that giggle because I have decided from here on out to call him The Brain instead, respectfully of course. But what else could I do-- I mean who Googles “the smell of newborn babies?” No worries though, I still love The Brain just as much as ever.
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