Birthday Number One: A tale in two parts
The first thing i remember of the moment when they placed Bruno on my lap, right after giving birth, is his face. At peace. He moved his lips slightly. He pretended to cry and then gave up. I was lost in the smell of his skin. I remember that. I also remember the beautiful afternoon light invading the room where it all happened. Pablo's expression of concentration as he told me to keep on pushing. When he finally laid eyes on Muffin, he had such a proud and vulnerable look on his face.
Another polaroid from memory: coming out from the hospital into the sunshine morning of Madrid, walking unsteadily towards the parking lot with a four day old baby in my arms, dreading the elevator and wanting to blow all pollution from the city in three seconds. The things you think. The fears you fear. I barely think back on how hard the first days were, with all the bleeding and the pain from the stitches. It has all disappeared.
Fast forward to the first rush to the emergency room because his temperature was really high. The nurse sneered and i couldn't care less. I was careless, as well, of the way i looked most of the times. What a bunch of months rolled into a pile of strangely sized clothes. I remember the nursing with fondness. I still miss it. I don't think Muffin does.
The first trip turned out to be a huge trip to LA, no less. The first long separation happened on my birthday. The first tooth. The first smile. I'm having a bunch of firsts (and seconds) floating around my mind. And yesterday, the first birthday.
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On Saturday night, a minute after the clock struck midnight, we sneaked into his room and kissed him happy birthday, then kissed each other. It is such a big deal, completing the first year. It's certainly the milestone, both for Bruno and for us, the melting-in-sugar-parents. One year of Bruno and it feels like a couple of months have gone by, even when i look at his size, or when i realize i have a job now, and when i think of the enormous amount of events that have crossed our lives in these 12 months.
We celebrated, as i say, right on Saturday night. We celebrated with him as soon as he woke up on Sunday morning. He was happier than usual, if this is possible. He kept on singing and pretending to talk, he crawled all over the house, trying to eat the discarded pieces of the poster sign we invented for the wall and that Pablo was cutting out on the floor (while i wrapped his pressies).
Celebration continued at KameCafé, with my side of the family and a couple of friends. Little Violeta was there, the owner's daughter. She is half Japanese, half Spanish and therefore looks like a small panda bear with big eyes. She's 15 months old but the same height as Muffin. They are so perfect together, it makes you want to call Annie Leibobitz. On her cell.
We went back home to have yet another celebration, the Official one, complete with lots of food (i baked a teddy bear cake), parcels, and cries of joy. Pablo's father woke up especially at 6.30 am in California, in order to attend Muffin's party via webcam. We fully used our new dining table for the first time, seating 8 adults, 1 baby in a high chair and one grandfather staring from the laptop.
Then fairy godmother Trix and Nick showed up semi-unexpectedly and polished off a day that was both exhausting and wonderful. When most of the guests had gone, Bruno begged for a bath and some sleep in his own style. He stood up about six times in the bathtub but didn't slip, so he kept on giggling in a way that very much made me want to call Annie Leibobitz again and put him on the phone.
The first thing i remember of the moment when they placed Bruno on my lap, right after giving birth, is his face. At peace. He moved his lips slightly. He pretended to cry and then gave up. I was lost in the smell of his skin. I remember that. I also remember the beautiful afternoon light invading the room where it all happened. Pablo's expression of concentration as he told me to keep on pushing. When he finally laid eyes on Muffin, he had such a proud and vulnerable look on his face. Another polaroid from memory: coming out from the hospital into the sunshine morning of Madrid, walking unsteadily towards the parking lot with a four day old baby in my arms, dreading the elevator and wanting to blow all pollution from the city in three seconds. The things you think. The fears you fear. I barely think back on how hard the first days were, with all the bleeding and the pain from the stitches. It has all disappeared.
Fast forward to the first rush to the emergency room because his temperature was really high. The nurse sneered and i couldn't care less. I was careless, as well, of the way i looked most of the times. What a bunch of months rolled into a pile of strangely sized clothes. I remember the nursing with fondness. I still miss it. I don't think Muffin does.
The first trip turned out to be a huge trip to LA, no less. The first long separation happened on my birthday. The first tooth. The first smile. I'm having a bunch of firsts (and seconds) floating around my mind. And yesterday, the first birthday.
On Saturday night, a minute after the clock struck midnight, we sneaked into his room and kissed him happy birthday, then kissed each other. It is such a big deal, completing the first year. It's certainly the milestone, both for Bruno and for us, the melting-in-sugar-parents. One year of Bruno and it feels like a couple of months have gone by, even when i look at his size, or when i realize i have a job now, and when i think of the enormous amount of events that have crossed our lives in these 12 months.We celebrated, as i say, right on Saturday night. We celebrated with him as soon as he woke up on Sunday morning. He was happier than usual, if this is possible. He kept on singing and pretending to talk, he crawled all over the house, trying to eat the discarded pieces of the poster sign we invented for the wall and that Pablo was cutting out on the floor (while i wrapped his pressies).
Celebration continued at KameCafé, with my side of the family and a couple of friends. Little Violeta was there, the owner's daughter. She is half Japanese, half Spanish and therefore looks like a small panda bear with big eyes. She's 15 months old but the same height as Muffin. They are so perfect together, it makes you want to call Annie Leibobitz. On her cell.
We went back home to have yet another celebration, the Official one, complete with lots of food (i baked a teddy bear cake), parcels, and cries of joy. Pablo's father woke up especially at 6.30 am in California, in order to attend Muffin's party via webcam. We fully used our new dining table for the first time, seating 8 adults, 1 baby in a high chair and one grandfather staring from the laptop.
Then fairy godmother Trix and Nick showed up semi-unexpectedly and polished off a day that was both exhausting and wonderful. When most of the guests had gone, Bruno begged for a bath and some sleep in his own style. He stood up about six times in the bathtub but didn't slip, so he kept on giggling in a way that very much made me want to call Annie Leibobitz again and put him on the phone.
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