Eight weeks of fatherhood have simply flown by. After a turbulent start, Freddie has settled down nicely into our family life.
I wake at 4am when I hear him start to stir. Before he knows it, I’m changing his nappy as Sarah gets ready for his feed.
I’m good at burping, give big cheers when he fills his nappy and we’re now getting smiles which are definitely not wind. It’s so rewarding.
But the one thing I’m finding really hard to handle is the crying.
I understand babies cry when hungry, need changing, have wind or are over-tired. But at times he just continues when I’ve ruled out all possible reasons why.
Maybe he’s too hot? At night, the monitors are showing 28C in our room. No matter what I try, I struggle to bring it down.
Fans going, windows open but still no air.
One tip includes opening the hatch to the loft. But all this has done is give me a headache, as I keep whacking my head on it when I pass.
Freddie’s little milestones are starting and so are mine as a father. Last Sunday saw our first father-and-son trip out. We walked to Waitrose and back!
For me, it was a mighty achievement. Fears of manic crying or a leaking nappy by the fresh produce aisle were unfounded as he slept all the way there….and back.
My confidence is growing to the extent I’ve booked Sarah a morning at a local spa for a much-needed massage of her shoulders and back. I’ll hold the fort with Freddie.
But what reward for the father? I’m hands-on, helping with feeds and changing.
My shoulders hurt too, plus I’m still working seven days a week on the radio. What about me?
Well you’ll be pleased to know I have finally grown up. I simply don’t care.
Life is good and watching Freddie grow each day is reward in itself. This is not a cliche, this is what fatherhood does to you.
My one reward is permission to watch Pompey on Saturdays.
Before you know it I’ll be taking the boy!