Dedicated to all fathers

These two can spend hours together; I don’t know what they do together. I flee the spot the moment hubby man takes over the baby duty. I do not stand around idling, for fear, lest I may get called upon to provide assistance. You know, get the wipes, get water, toys, clothes, any help. I run away and hide before hubster could as much as say ‘Hey’ ???

But truth is, as much as I behave like a free bird just out of her cage, I do come crawling back, to take a peek and just stand there and watch them laughing and giggling and jostling with each other. I stand there mesmerised and from time to time let out screams, coz I am always scared the baby will fall while they are playing. They run and roll around so carelessly. But he never does fall. ?

It is true that a mother’s love is the most beautiful thing in the world. It is so thick and deep you can almost touch a mother’s love. It is so much present. But a father’s love is equally beautiful. A father may not carry the baby in his womb, neither does he have the extremely sharp mother’s intuition or the protectiveness of a tigress that she has, but his love is different. His love is anxious when he watches the baby scans for the first time, it is scared when holding the hand of the screaming woman in labour, afraid when holding the tiny human for the first time in his hands, vulnerable when holding and rocking a crying infant all night, melting when those tiny lips smile up to him for the first time, showing him that those little eyes recognise him too, proud when he sees the baby walk for the first time, fulfilled when the baby calls him ‘dada’ for the first time and holds his hands, happy when the little bundle waits by the door and jumps in his lap the moment he walks in. His love is different than the soft giggles and whispers shared with the mother, it is a loud boisterous laughter, a jump high in the air, a run from the tickle monster. But, it is permeating and all the more beautiful. A father’s love is not so much talked about coz it is mostly overshadowed by the mother’s love, which has a lot more expression. But, it is the glue which holds these moments together. Thankful for it always…