My One-Week Old Son

Call Of Duty 5

For those who know me, I've been rather engrossed in a PC game called "Call Of Duty 4 - Modern Warfare" in recent months. So much so that my wife sometimes think I'm addicted to it. She is 75% correct. Last Saturday, I upgraded to "Call Of Duty 5 - Baby's Arrival".

My wife finally gave birth to our baby boy. Both of us were caught off-guard because he decided to spring a surprise two days ahead of schedule. It has been a sleep-deprivation marathon since then. I'm averaging about four or five hours sleep a day, and my wife, maybe, just two-thirds of that. Poor darling.

The little bundle came into my arms rather peacefully at first. Then, when the nurse started to unwrap him for the weighing, he exploded into this Civil Defence Emergency Siren that couldn't be switched off. I was torn between being smug about my boy's strong lungs and feeling "Oh no, what did I get myself into?"

As for my wife, she has officially become the little man's personal milk machine. I admired her fortitude and insistence on breast-feeding our boy. "Breast is best" they say. Judging from the amount of pain, effort and energy needed for breast-feeding, I'd say only a mother would sacrifice that much.

It's been a roller coaster ride since the baby came. On one hand, we're absolutely overjoyed by his arrival. Afterall, we've been waiting for this moment for eight months and some weeks. On the other hand, we are constantly fed with "guidance and tips" from every person we know and under the watchful eyes of every relative, distant or close. The latter is driving both of us a little nuts at times. But of course we keep reminding ourselves, "it is with good intentions...".

If you are wondering what's the baby's name, well, we are not quite sure yet. We thought it was going to be Elliot, at least I did. But so far only close friends, and moderns ones at that, approve of the name. My in-laws have been giving quite a bit of negative feedback. My mom, aunt and cousins have been pronouncing it the hokkien-aunty way. All of which makes me quite sad actually. Maybe I'm just destined to name my own dog.

But I'm going to close both eyes and just laugh it off for now. There is no room for two moody people in our family now. My wife's hormones are kinda whacked out and I need to be cheerful and give her my support through the initial months. Tomorrow, the baby will be heading for his first check-up, and then we're going to our fengshui master to get an auspicious chinese name for him.

If you're still reading at this point, let me tell that, despite sounding somewhat sad above, I am still loving practically every minute of fatherhood. Everytime the boy opens his eyes, everytime I burp him after his feed, every hiccup, every yawn, every smile he flashes, every wink he gives, every punch, every kick, it's all heavenly. And that baby fragrance he wears, like that leather smell in a new car, simply drives me crazy.

"Who's your Daddy now?!"