The first cuddle.
It’s a moment most mothers remember. Long, fleeting, loud, peaceful.
The mottled skin. The sticky hair. The papery nails. The huffy breaths.
Lyndsey’s baby, Ward, arrived three and a half months early. When he was four days old and just 680 grams, she got to hold him for the first time.
Her husband made this video for her birthday. Watching Ward grow from being a crumpled little tissue to a thriving baby boy who laughs, rolls and eats a cake lathered in icing is such a beautiful tribute to their son – but most of all, to Lyndsey.
Take a look.
I can only understand a teeny tiny fragment of Lyndsey’s life.
My son was born six weeks premature. With every breath, his lungs sucked so far inwards it was like he had the hiccups. He sounded like an old cat. We’d peer at him through the windows of the humidy crib like he was the world’s most fascinating exhibit. Just watching. Waiting. And then he’d sneeze and we’d startle, looking at him, looking at each other, looking for a nurse. And then nothing. More watching. More waiting.
And a day later, we got that first cuddle.
The nurse passed me a tangle of tubes and bandages. Inside, somewhere, was my new baby.
And there it is. The moment. A moment mixed with ‘oh my God I don’t want to break him’ and ‘this is a big deal’. But most of all, I remember the unfamiliarity. With each other. With the world. And the beginning of something beautiful.
Sometimes I forget about that cuddle. But today – after watching Lyndsey’s video – I felt it. I remembered. And that was magical.
Can you describe the first time you help your baby?