Since he was born eight months and three weeks ago, my baby son has changed me a great deal. He has made me happier, of course, but he has also made me less cynical, less angry, less bad. He has made me a man in full, added to me the bit that distinguishes a man from a father. He is teaching me to be a good father, and I hope I'm making progress. He's given me a new life.
He has made me believe that there is happiness in life, after all. That happiness is to watch him crawl with a big toothless grin on his face in my direction every evening when I come home from work. That happiness is to wake up in the morning and smell his tiny belly, his soft and smooth skin, the fuzz on his head. That happiness is to see him rub his little nose with his tiny fist before waking up every morning and blessing me with one of his sleepy early morning smiles. That happiness is to be touched, even scratched sometimes, by his plump hands. That happiness is listening to his breathing at night.
He has taught me to think more about my parents. Playing with him every day, feeling happy for his every little achievement, I feel a glimpse of what my mother must have felt looking at an 8-month-old me. Pride, happiness, love. I understand my parents better now, looking back at my own childhood and viewing them and myself in a different light. I understand now what my mother meant by saying "You'll never get it until you get your own child." My son has taught me how difficult - and joyful - it is to be a parent.
He has taught me to view other people not just as strangers, but as somebody else's children. It is the deep understanding that some time ago every one of us was a little baby who basked in the unconditional love of their parents. It is the ability to view the world through the eyes of a father, not just an ordinary man. It is the ability to feel, or at least imagine, the happiness and the pain of others. My son has taught me to think about - and feel - things I had never thought about before his birth.
Having my son has taught me to imagine the pain of those who lose their children. It has taught me to fear that possibility. I fear it so much that I am ready to die to prevent it. It has taught me to feel, not only to understand, the pain a parent feels when their child suffers from physical pain, injustice of any kind, loneliness.
But it has also taught me to take care of myself. To look both ways when crossing a street. To keep my feet warm. To keep out of trouble.
My son has taught me to be a grown up man. He is teaching me a new thing every day. I am trying to be a diligent student. I am relishing every second of this education. And I want to relish it until the day when it will be my turn to teach him things.
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