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BY KERRY WILLIAMSON

From labour day to Labour Day, the boy is now nine months old.

It is incredible to think that nine months ago, we were at Wellington Hospital, tired, exhausted and completely overwhelmed.

The boy, the wife and me - just like that, we were an instant family.

The dog, of course, was waiting for us at home.

In the past nine months, our lives have completely changed.

Mostly for the better, but some for the worse.

One thing is for sure - I can barely remember what it was like to not be a dad.

I can barely remember what it was like to sleep in until noon on a rainy Sunday.

I can barely remember what it was like to just jump out of bed and go.

I can barely remember what it means to have an evening at the cinema, a dinner at a decent restaurant, more than a few pints at the pub.

But I can also barely remember what it's like to come home to a cold, empty house.

Now, when I get home from work, my boy is there waiting for me.

Now, when I get home from work, I get to hear stories from the wife, about how our boy tried to stand up, about how he giggled for five minutes straight, about how he fell off the step.

I certainly can't remember being filled with so much love for a living thing.

That's because I've never felt what I feel now for my son.

The love of a parent is a different kind of love altogether, a love that is all encompassing.

You don't know it until you've lived it. Only parents will know what I'm talking about.

It seems strange to say, but I've learnt almost as much about myself in these past nine months as I have about the boy.

I've learnt that the stresses and strains of work don't really matter, at least not in the long run.

I've learnt that I can be patient, that I can devote all my energy to someone else. I've learnt that family is all-important.

I like to think I'm not as selfish and narcissistic as I once was.

My wants and needs now pale into comparison to those of the boy, and that's fine with me

I've learnt that a smile from the boy makes everything OK, and that a hug makes everything bad go away.

I've learnt that even though I hate it, I will get up at four in the morning if the boy needs me to.

I didn't think I'd ever be able to do that - I'm sure those who know me will be mightily impressed.

I know I can still be a dick at times, that I don't do anywhere near as much as I should, that I still fail the boy and the wife in many areas, and that I still have a lot more to learn.

But I am trying.

It has been harder than I thought it would be, and easier at the same time.

The lack of sleep was a killer in the early days, and I still struggle with the loss of my independence.

I like to think I coped as well as I could - I can change a nappy in less than a minute, although I still gag almost every time;

I can bath the boy without drowning him, although we do flood the bathroom; I can read Where the Wild Things Are a million times and still not get bored.

I do like being a dad, I'm sure of that.

But if I'm honest, I can't say that I absolutely and completely love it. Not yet. It's too hard sometimes, and there are days when I want my old life back.

But it's growing on me, and I'm definitely growing into it.

And in truth, there is no way I would turn back the clock.

I can't imagine life without my boy - he is the best thing about me, the best thing that I've ever had a hand in making.

Together, we've achieved a lot in nine months.

It's incredible to think of how much he has changed. He has grown up before our eyes, and continues to do so every single day.

The little man we get to hang out with now is barely recognisable from his baby photos.

He is big and boisterous, loud and full of beans.

He can say "Dadda" and "Momma", although we're still not sure he knows what those words mean.

He can stand and is currently learning the often painful lessons of balance.

He is inquisitive and curious, eager to learn and desperate for attention.

He loves being around other people and has become a real show-off.

He can eat a banana by himself, and has a liking for ice cream.

He has never turned down a spoonful of food.

He can crawl from one side of the house to the other, and isn't far off walking.

There will be a few more bumps on his head before then, though.

He is a little shorter than other kids his age, and a little fatter (like father, like son).

He is also a lot cuter than he was a few months ago.

He finally has some wisps of hair, his eyes are a deep blue and he's no longer as strange looking as he was when he was a baby.

We don't think of him as a baby now.

He has developed his own personality, has his own swag of characteristics, his own way about him. He is his own man - just a little version of one.

Of course, I would be remiss not to mention the wife.

She, too, amazes me every day, with her strength, her patience, her devotion to the boy.

She has become an incredible mother. We'd be lost without her.

So, it has been nine months.

The boy, the wife, the dog, and me - we've come a long way.

Who knows where we'll be in another nine. One thing is for sure though - we'll be doing it together.

Thanks for reading.

                         

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