I wrote this a few weeks ago but for whatever reason didn’t get round to actually putting it out there. I’ve just stumbled across it again however, and thought it was appropriate for this lovely time of year… Or maybe I’m just being weird and girly. Either way, hope you guys enjoy it.
I recently had the absolute privilege of being introduced to a very very newly born baby. I’ve seen babies before of course, but this little fellow was literally hours old. We first visited him and his parents in hospital shortly after the start of this new life.
The birth was not easy at all, as I imagine all births to be in their own ways. Nevertheless Mum, baby and Dad are, a couple of days later, all healthy and at home surrounded by a mountain of baby paraphernalia, periodically reminiscing on “scenes no man should ever have to see” and deciding which of the incessant phone calls to acknowledge.
The visitors are more or less forming a queue outside the front door, the football is having to be recorded much to Dad’s dismay and the balloons are tragically deflating in the background. It’s chaos. I’m torn between feeling sorry for a desperately knackered Mum and wanting to ogle at the tiniest, most gorgeous fingernails I had yet to witness. And his facial expressions! His eyes aren’t even open and he’s giving me the most patronising look of contempt when I take 59827 selfies for him… We wonder what he will grow up to be, what music he’ll like, whether he’ll go to Uni and even whether he’ll be gay (cue Dad: “I’ll love him just the same”).
But despite it feeling like everybody’s feet are yet to touch the ground, there’s one thing I can’t help but notice: everybody is smiling. Non-stop.
It’s the happiest moment I’ve ever seen in my life. Raw, rare, unconditional happiness.
Later, I reflected on that feeling. Because – and I’m not sorry for this – my whole life is, at the moment, geared around being the best, being powerful, being important. Making a difference. Being the person to call. The fixer. The one with the answers. And the one with the best fucking shoes. And don’t get me wrong; that’s not about to go anywhere. Because when I achieve some sort of minor greatness at work or at Uni, that’s a bloody good feeling and of course it makes me extremely happy.
There’s a sort of ceiling to that happiness though; it’s a selfish state of content that you can’t really share with anybody. You can make people proud, but they can’t feel how you feel. If anything, it’s the contrary – the cliché image of success, complete with all your materialistic gadgets, will only really bring resentment from the masses, acceptance from some and pride from very few.
But stick a new-born baby in anybody’s face and watch them just melt away in front of six and a half pounds of tiny human.
And it’s not just that. What really, really got me the most is this family unit, this unbreakable unit of love and trust and support, within the walls of which there is no judging, no condescending, no imbalances. There are no Roleys that don’t tick tock, no Margielas, no hashtags. There are simply glances that speak verses, chores that become honours and so much laughter that your cheeks ache and your eyes stream.
I can’t put into words how it has felt to be just a miniscule part of this life-changing moment. I had no idea how it felt before now and if or until it happens again, I won’t know another feeling like it. All I know is that it was more important than anything I could currently possess or even have my sights set on. I was in awe, and even though I was standing on the outside looking in, I just understood. That six-and-one-half pound tiny, vulnerable human was the most powerful person in the room.
Keep sight of what you want in life. Chase your goals, push your limits, fall down, get back up and push harder. But when the lights turn off and you head home, always head home to what is truly important.
CM