I am aware that when a man writes something to the neighbor in front He usually does it with a probably seductive interest (perhaps stalker), or with the intention of making himself known and expressing feelings of attraction or the like, after observing it in one way or another from the street or through the window.
It is not my case, and that is why I warn you before you even consider that I have that intention. I only dedicate these lines to you, which I will never send you but that I wanted to publish 'in open' because I have seen you, in a casual way, taking care of your baby, especially when you try to sleep it, between tits and arms, and I have not found a better way (although there probably is) to express everything that image awakens in me.
I write to you because it is your image that was recorded in my memory the day I saw you from the back, rocking your little one, while on the one hand a little head with little hair appeared and on the other hand two little legs that already hung, outside your arms, showing that you had been together for several months. A few months after you began to be aware of his weight, how much he needed you, and that of go to sleep It was something I did better with you than without you.
But I write to you to address me, in reality, to all the neighbors in front and their babies and, why not, to all the neighbors who do the same to help their little ones rest, which are becoming more and more.
The tenderness of the moment stayed in my mind and made me remember the times when I saw Miriam, my wife, sleeping our children like this (or even when it was I who tried, often without success), and remember all the women that I have seen do the same, to the point of imagining the indelible memory that must be to grow with a mother next door capable of doing anything for your own well-being.
I saw you walking, sometimes stopping for a moment while moving to continue rocking your little one, then disappearing for a moment where your window ended and appearing again, in a quiet, routine ritual, often tired, but necessary. Because God knows that if that baby slept alone in his crib, smiling before closing his eyes, you would leave him as we would all do: "Rest, my love; dream beautiful things", a little kiss on the forehead and even in a little while. But no: you are one of those 'lucky ones' who not only has a baby who needs a tit to sleep, but also movement. Tit and arms. And movement.
You are not alone, neighbor. There are many women, couples, who like you have had sons or daughters with a single mission, to tear yourself out of your life, whatever it is, and absorb yourself in their world to show you that there are much more important things than all that before It made you suffer.
Surely in the early days you came to ask at some point when you could comb your hair a little, and try to look at least in part to what you were weeks ago. Perhaps you thought of more than one occasion that showering with a crying baby, often even in the arms of his father, had nothing relaxing. And you probably even came to value the possibility of having done it differently if someone had told you yes, that having a child is as beautiful as they have, but that It is also as hard as few explain.
And in these months you will have felt that strange sensation of finally lying down to rest, at night, and feel a backache as you had rarely suffered ... a strange mixture of pain and sighs of tiredness, of 'finally I lie down', and I don't know if I was better standing. And add the pain of dolls that will have made you fear so many days that in one of those cramps you will lose your strength and be scared.
Perhaps you have also discovered how rare it can be to eat when others have already eaten, or twice or three times. Even eating with your left hand while with one foot you try to take the napkin that has dropped and that will make you discover that the best thing, before sitting down, is to have several repeated cutlery, more than one napkin, a book, the mobile and the TV remote ... for what may happen.
Or not. Or none of this has really happened to you and it is I who am recalling in an instant that time when Miriam and I had a month-old baby who had to sleep in his arms, or between tits and arms, on the one hand letting out a head with little hair and on the other two chubby legs that, in parallel, hung relaxed while its owner was letting go with the heat and the immense and intense affection of mom.
And I remember it with a sigh of 'what a hard time it was for everyone, and especially for her', but with the love of knowing that in those times we were learning to be better parents, and above all better people. That those three babies we had helped us to understand that the important thing, most important of all, was to be able to see those big little eyes upon waking from those dreams, those toothless gums smiling at us and those little hands that clung to us asking us to never let them go. . That is unforgettable!
So, right or wrong, I just want to tell you that I'm very happy to see you with your baby. I think about how dear he should feel in your arms and how comfortable he should be, knowing for sure in a world he barely understands, where he knows he will be fine: with you.
And it is that babies do not care if they have the most beautiful clothes, or the most expensive; if they have the room with bears or butterflies, if it is pastel or light blue. Your home is you. And that is why they don't have much problem if you have combed your hair more or less, or if you go in a tracksuit when you were always out. While I am with you, it will be fine, because that's where the purest love you can feel is born, that of a son to a motherand that of a mother to her son or daughter, which is born from itself, which for many months are its own body and then become those little people who seem to never want to separate from it. Of you.
If you ever read it, I just want to apologize for those seconds when I look at you both and tell me so much, and thank you, somehow, because every time I see you pass, from my window, i see love.
Photos | iStock
In Babies and more | Why having "mamitis" is really normal, The chemistry of emotions (or why you have to raise with love and respect), I didn't realize how strong my wife was until I saw her give birth (and raise)
