One of the most continually astonishing things about having a newborn in the house is the regular procession of "first's". First time meeting Nande, first time riding in the car, first time changing him at 4:30 in the morning and his cry sounds like a car alarm, first time seeing him really see me, first time I see myself in his face.
The parade of firsts hit a new high point for me yesterday. The first time I held my son and fed him. Also, the first time he fed off of a bottle and not his mother. The tidal wave of emotions were really quite wonderful seeing him latch on and work that nipple on the bottle, seeing the freshly pumped liquid gold that is mother's milk slowly disappear into him and knowing that I was both giving my wife a much deserved and needed respite and also that I was nourishing my son, I was helping to give him the energy he needs to grow and prosper.
The sweet wholesomeness that is a newborn can't be conveyed in words, it can only be shared by those who have been here where we are now. Basking in his purity, innocence and need. Everything else I've seen, done or read about pales in comparison to taking care of him. My priorities haven't just changed, they've evolved into a whole other plane. Graydon is my first, my last, my everything.
One focused look from him is enough to make my knees buckle with love and desire to protect and care for him. Strange but wonderful days indeed.
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