Got It Bad

It's coincidence that I write this on Valentine's Day, I swear. And yeah, that's a "holiday" for relationship love, and not so much for other kinds of love, but, well, it's in the air, or so they say. And that being said....

There is no love like what I have for Malcolm, or extrapolating, like what a parent has for a child (and I think Pam feels the same way). 

Last weekend I said to her, "If I'd known it was going to be like this, I'd have wanted to do it sooner. But then, we might not have had Malcolm." 

She agreed, saying, "Yeah, he's what makes it perfect."

"Everything in its right place. Everything in its right time."

And of course this love is going to be different from the love of siblings, the love of friends, the love of lovers, and the love of couples. But it's not just different, it's mad, crazy, wicked awesome, spin-me-round like a record player, big-wow-finish of the fireworks on the 4th of July different. Looking down on him sleeping in his crib in the semi-darkness of his still room, his fists balled and arms raised up by his head like he's cheering, his face turned to the side in a series of plump, curved lines like Hitchcock's silhouette, his growing body pushing against his clothes, and all of it punctuated by the occasional stuttering grunt that accompanies a contorted, back-bending stretch, it is very hard not to be awed by his perfection. All you want is for his life to be full of happiness and success and love and goodness. And even though you know it won't be perfect, that there will be disappointments, that yours isn't the charmed storybook you dreamed of, that doesn't make you want it any less for him.

The way that he turns and looks at you and his face lights up with recognition. Then he smiles and laughs and shakes his hands at you and speaks a word of baby-talk gibberish. Gibberish that you can't help but be pleased with and repeat back to him, hoping that he'll keep going and that the next sound will actually be a word.

Almost every day, he does something new or different. Watching him grow and develop is probably the most fascinating science project ever. He'll get fussy and start to cry (luckily there have been very few of the big, loud, holy crap screams) and we get to try and figure out what's upsetting him, and can we stop it before it's too late. It's kinda like CSI: Baby.

I'm not here to proselytize. I'm not here to criticize. But if you ever thought about having a kid, I do recommend it. 


Jimmie said...

Stephen, you brought back so many good memories for me of when Stephanie was a baby and child. All I can tell you is that none of those feelings change as your child becomes an adult. They will always be your perfect child.

jiltron said...

i thought i commented how moving this was. but perhaps i just chatted it quickly instead. yes, you having me crying (again) today. much love to you all.