After over 30 days of horrendous crying, or (more pleasantly) a furrowed brow and a look of confusion or dissatisfaction only being quelled by breastfeeding, my son smiled at me this week. It was quite intentional as I sat that wonderful morning in my office chair, in front of the glowing ambiance of computer screens signaling the near and inevitable dawn. It was in this modest location, on a day like any other, that my son smiled at me.
My wife doesn’t believe it but it truly did happen. He was, perhaps, a bit groggy from his recent pre-dawn feeding but he was making some wonderfully appropriate (non-crying) baby noises. I began to imitate the noises he produced: He froze. “That’s the same sound,” he must have thought. “But it didn’t come from me, did it? I’ll try again,” and another sound came out of his adorable little mouth. I imitated it again. My son furrowed his brow and titled his head. “It happened again. Let’s try something new,” and he let out a different sound with a different pitch for a longer duration. He was met, once again, with my imitation. And then… he smiled.
I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I witnessed my son smile, at me, because of some little game we were playing. We had a bit of communication. We were having fun. He was enjoying this. He knew who I was and let me know that he knew and that he liked me. This, dear readers, was a triumphant moment for dad. Since Mom has been providing for his every need and Dad has been left wondering what to do and how to interact with his son this moment improved my entire day.
I told my son “thank you” for bestowing such a great gift on such an unworthy parent. I also let him know that this event was the greatest of my entire month. Perhaps even the summer. Perhaps even my life. A part of myself locked his eyes on me and let me know he loved me. There’s something profound and simple in that moment, and it is truly one I will never forget.