This is Noah. I love him more than life itself.
Tag Archives: Noah
November 2006.
It was raining the night Noah was born. In a country in the middle of its worst drought in a 1000 years, the skies opened and drenched Melbourne in water. In the birth suite I could hear the rain pounding the windows with a rage I’ve never felt before. Of course there would be a flood the night Noah was born. The symbolism escaped no one. It was also obvious he had no plans to come out. It didn’t matter what we did, no creams or drips would force this little man to enter the stage this cold and rainy morning.
I had put a CD together with music both Jac and I love and for every time it went on repeat, I could see the doctors getting more and more concerned. To make matters worse, the whole room smelled of lavender, roses and lemon because of an oil burner a friend of ours had given us. On a heart monitor we could see Noah’s pulse go up and down because of all the drugs the doctors gave Jacqui.
The world smelled of lavender, roses and lemon.
And the rain kept falling.
The contractions got worse and worse, but Noah just wouldn’t budge. To the sounds of “It must be love”, I heard Jac whimper quietly, when the next song started she passed out.
It was an odd mix.
1. Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois – Sufjan Stevens
2. Scythian Empire – Andrew Bird
3. Hoppipolla – Sigur Ros
4. Fruit Tree – Nick Drake
5. Breathe – Alexi Murdoch
6. It must be love – Madness
7. Sister Winter – Sufjan Stevens
8. Odi et Amo – Johann Johannsson
9. Here’s to the future – Ken Stringfellow
10. Svefn G Englar – Sigur Ros
11. Hymn For Her – The Magic Numbers
12. Casmir Pulaski Day – Sufjan Stevens
13. Somewhere over the Rainbow – Israel Kamakawiwo’ole
And just like everything else that night made perfect sense, Noah was born to a song I’ve always loved. After 24 hours in hospital the midwife told Jacqui to push. After two quick ones, and less than ten minutes, our son popped out to the sounds of the most beautiful ukulele in the world. It was seven in the morning. As I looked out the window, the rain suddenly stopped, the sun appeared behind heavy clouds and I called my family in Sweden.
Noah is born.
The sun is shining.
It’s a wonderful world.
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by Jonas
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Noah likes my iPhone. He presses the buttons, calls people, erases my apps and creates havoc in my calendar. If you get a call early in the morning and hear someone panting heavily, it’s most likely Noah. I can promise you it’s not me. Well, the other day I downloaded an auto-tune app called “I am T-Pain”, but I never had a chance to play with it then. I have no idea how Noah figured out how to use it, but when I picked up my phone from the floor this morning, I noticed the app was open. This is what he recorded:
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Possibly the cutest thing ever.
by Jonas
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We’ve had to organize a boob intervention. Our youngest boy, Joel, won’t give up the breast and it’s been hell for pretty much the whole family. He doesn’t sleep through the night, which means Jac doesn’t sleep, which means I wake up to the Cranky House of Horrors. Every day a new sequel. Today showing – Cranky House of Horrors 9: The Revenge of the Fat Milk Sucking Baby.
Hence the boob intervention.
We’ve read the books, talked to the right people, mingled with the breast-knowing crowd. Apparently you just feed him from a bottle instead.
- No more boobie for you young squire, here’s a cold plastic bottle with water and fake milk powder instead. Mmmm, eat it. Do it. Do it. DOOOOOO IT!
Do you think he did? I know I wouldn’t. So yesterday we decided it was time for some real firmness. No more sequels to this franchise of craptastic horror movies, not even straight to dvd. Let’s finish this sucker! Literally.
Starting yesterday morning we refused to feed him anything else than the bottle. Joel decided that sure, fine, you try and play that game, I’ll just hold out. So he did. All day and all night. He didn’t eat anything. By dinner time he was angry, hungry and tired - a lethal combo. I was stuck with trying to settle him since he apparently can smell the breast milk if Jacqui does it. That milk sounds worse than any crack in the world to me.
Operation Pat the Bub commenced at 1900 hours last night.
The plan of attack was simple. Baby wakes up. Try to feed him from the bottle. If that doesn’t work, put him to sleep by patting his bottom. So I did that. Every 30 minutes or so he’d wake up more pissed than before. But we stuck to the plan. We had to. At 3 am (that’s 0300 hours to you, staff sergeant), he finally took the bottle. Jac and Noah was in another room so this victory was celebrated by a tired dad in the dark. An hour later Joel woke up again, wanting the breast. He was fed, but still wanted a boob fix. I hear you, son, but nuh-uh, no more. So sergeant Patty Pat has been working all night, man, he’s been busy.
But we made it.
Jac came in and picked him up earlier. Fed him some Farex and baby yoghurt. He ate it all. She said she’d never seen anything like it. It was like watching Kirstie Alley at an all you can eat Pig-a-thon.
He’s asleep now. For the first time in 24 hours I can hear him happily snoozing away in the cot next to me.
Five minutes ago, my other boy, Noah walked in. He had drawn something for me. He said it was me and I wasn’t going to argue. He leaned in and hugged me hard.
- Happy Father’s Day, Pappa!
Indeed it is, son, indeed it is, I though to myself.
In fact, every day is.
(don’t worry, this is an old photo)
by Jonas
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I’m flying back to Brisbane tomorrow. It’s been truly awesome being back “home”. For the first time in years I have appreciated the country I left five years ago.
Buh-bye for now, Sweden.
See you next year.
by Jonas
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by Jonas
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