Perhaps the most joyous moment of my life was when I held my newborn daughter for the first time. In the world only a few minutes, a nurse held her out to me, wrapped snug in a keeping blanket. I eagerly but cautiously reached out and accepted her, taking great care to support her with both hands without holding her too tight, bringing her close to my chest to make sure I did not drop her, but not so close as to smoother her. I spoke to her in a near whisper, not wanting to startle her. “I love you,” I said, before leaning down to kiss her forehead. Her sweet smell filled my lungs, her skin warmed my lips, and her cooing delighted my heart. In those few moments the lives of her mother and me changed forever.
In addition to that momentous day, we’ve had many other memorable moments with our little girl, like watching her take her first steps, feed herself for the first time (most of the spaghetti ended up on her shirt), the first evening she went to bed without diapers, and my favorite, hearing the first time she called me “Daddy.” Nearly every day was fun and exciting, and yet nearly every day was challenging and at times stressful for either her mother or me.
She was our only child, and although we thought we had prepared ourselves well for her, we were fearful nonetheless, wondering if she was comfortable in our arms, was she wrapped too snug, was she hungry or sleepy. I had watched my mother take care of my younger siblings, and my aunts take care of my many younger cousins. My wife and I read books to educate ourselves about infants, we listened to family and friends as advice based on experience was given, and we took home and saved all the instructions the pediatrician had given us. Still, sometimes we didn’t know what to do, so we learned by trial and error, trying to read facial expressions, interpret baby jabber, remember schedules, and anticipate what need might arise next. We were afraid we would do something wrong, we feared causing some long-lasting harm, and we struggled with our confidence on difficult days when we could not please our unhappy child.
There were times that we wondered out loud what she needed from us, when we disagreed about what to do, and when we tried anything we could think of to handle the challenge of the moment. There were times when we doubted our abilities as a parent, when we wondered if my daughter would turn out all right, having been raised by inexperienced parents such as we were back then. There were times when I wanted desperately for her just to speak to us, to tell us what it was that she needed.
Those were the days that I wished she had come with a book, a parent’s manual that described all possible infant behaviors and strange noises, reasons for tears, how to stop a runny nose, explanations for the different colors of poop and what to do for each one. Such a manual would have saved us a lot of frustration and doubt, a few temper tantrums, and perhaps made my daughter a bit more content with her parents. But alas, no such book existed.
We tried to be perfect parents. We took her to most of the places she wanted to go, bought all the stuffed animals that would fit in her room, gave her the snacks she demanded even though we didn’t want her to have them, and read to her at night long after she could read for herself. But we did not do everything right. I’m sure we fell short more times than we would wish to count.
Fortunately, Her mother and I learned from our successes as well as our mistakes, and from the insights we shared with each other. We learned that children are loving, resilient, and forgiving, but they are also delicate and impressionable. They will forgive us for most of our mistakes as long as our intentions were well placed and we do better the next time, but they cannot thrive in our indifference, carelessness, or anger. We learned that children have many needs that require the purposeful service of devoted parents. While some of these needs are real only during early childhood, others endure for a lifetime and are staggering in their importance and effect if unattended. Some needs change, evolve, become less pressing, and others grow in importance as time goes by. Some needs must be met only once; others are never met but require constant feeding. Our children’s own sense of worth is determined in large part by the worth they believe we have placed in them, which is demonstrated by how attentive we are to their needs instead of our own.
Today our young adult daughter cannot recall all the care that her parents gave her, yet she knows of it. That is why now and then when she visits either of us she still reaches for a hug before departing, or calls on the phone in near bursting exuberance to tell about something she has conquered that day. These are the moments when we are rewarded for what we did years ago; these are more of the moments, like those of her infancy and early childhood, we will remember for all of our remaining days. These are the moments when I can smile and believe that her mother and I have done a pretty good job as her parents.
We never did find that manual, so I decided to write one. I do not hold this book out as the exhaustive book of wisdom that all new parents need to read in order to raise perfect children. However, I believe that somewhere there are parents lying awake at night, as my child’s mother and I once did, wondering what to do for their beloved baby. I hope that by sharing a bit about what I have learned, that giving a child a loving, supportive start in life, that taking care of a few basic, universal needs, those parents will find confidence in their abilities, comfort in their successes, and strength with each life lesson shared with their child. With this book I hope to give new parents, and especially moms, most often the primary caregiver, nurturer and teacher, a glimpse of what they should know about and do for their young children. When you put this book down, I hope you feel encouraged and appreciated for all you have done and have yet to do taking care of your own precious baby.
