Roar ! I’m an emotional wreck! And turns out little babies are emotional sponges. Here’s the story of my life – my birth givers were helping me through the newness and they stayed with me for the past 3 months. Stayed, notice that I’m using the past tense. Thus, the emotional derailment.

Now, the interesting bit about my baby being an emotional sponge is that every time I sobbed because I missed my people, my little human would also be very sad. I’d cry while cooking, washing dishes, in the shower, everywhere. I don’t remember being so emotional, it must be the hormones. Being overly dramatic about my sadness and happiness is the only part I disliked about being pregnant and now postpartum.

Thankfully during this process of adjustment, I’ve Alan Jackson by my side. I don’t know what his voice does to my baby but it calms him, from the loudest, saddest cry. I am sometimes offended, I’d go so far as to say I’m jealous. I try every trick to calm him down but I only make it worse. And the first 2 seconds of “Remember when” does the magic.

Josef has been inviting cuddles and kisses and I’m loving it. My mother says sons are like puppies when they’re little, always affectionate and helpful and then comes a time they turn into cats, show up only when they need food. So I was hoping to get all the love when I can.

Since all the outburst I’ve been trying some security therapy, a little body to body. He curls into a little ball and I can’t stop adoring him. It’s my favorite part of the day. Bath time on the contrary is the worst, I have heard enough crying in just a month, this boy just doesn’t enjoy baths. Water and him refuse to play along. It’s been hours since his bath and my ears are still ringing. Nevertheless my reward is dressing him up.

I pay extra attention to dressing him up very boyish, especially if its a day involving outsider interaction. I make sure to put him in clothes that spell out Boy, Fella, Son or Man. Despite my desperate efforts, people offen ask me if my baby is a girl. The reason, the hair. Yes, I made a baby with a head full of beautiful silky black hair. And he’s had a trim already. German babies (to the best of my knowledge) are somewhat bald until toddlers. So I understand why they’d compliment my little ones hair so often.

Consoling a baby is a lot harder than I thought. It’s like my little angel grew up over night and decided to have a character. Baby anger is the new trend at home and he’s so adorable even as he throws a fit, until of course I get scratched and pinched.

Oh the struggle is real but it’s all undone with the morning cuddles and all day giggles.

I had my parents and brother visiting for a couple of months and that was great help. Through my second and third trimester I longed to sleep on my tummy with my face buried into the pillow. And thanks to having tenured parents to watch my lil kitten (Josef) I could finally sleep.

Reutlingen in Germany is not very busy or bustling with energy in comparison to the streets of Bangalore or any other bigger city within Germany. My folks would always run out of things to do and would be blasé of the town by sundown. To their defense, it’s extremely quiet and one could hear themselves breathing if you’re new in town.

And Netflix and movies were their new favorite. Action movies were a particular preference of my father and brother and my lil boy would hang with them, as my mother made lunch or cooked some yum-yums for the new mom, Me. Would you believe me if I said the baby would be sleeping through the whole movie? He would be fast asleep and wouldn’t move a muscle even with the loudest bits of the movie, with surround sound.

He was the sweetest little thing and I’m sure every mother feels that way about their baby. I tried keeping up with most of my traditions, as an Indian mum; more importantly a Mangalorean one. And little Josef so patiently participated in most traditional practices. We’ve some unique practices, massages for the mum and new born, the way we bathe a new born, some mandatory herbal drinks and a nut and spice mixture called Randho, which I abhor despite it’s wondrous medicinal properties. Of course my mother carried it all the way from India. She took over a month to collect the various ingredients and had 4 ladies accompany her in the preparation. And I still have some sitting comfortably in my refrigerator. Ungrateful indeed!

However, I was so grateful for family and friends, who I’d be lost without. This one month with my little human was as smooth as a baby’s bottom all thanks to the love around us.