From the moment our daughter was born, I knew she was a daddy’s girl. As my husband says, I was pretty much “out for the count” having just undergone 8 hours of labour and THEN a c-section.
So, one can understand why the first sight of my daughter is hazy to me. Heavy drugs, sheer exhaustion and the strange feeling of actually becoming a “Mother” all melded into the first moment I saw her – and all I remember is seeing this tiny thing in a pink blanket put next to me for a second, my asking if she was healthy, being told that she was perfect, and waking up 5 hours later in the hospital room.
My husband on the other hand, has a far clearer account of his experience. One that brings tears to his eyes every time he tells the tale. I’ll leave that for him to tell himself, but it involved an experience which could only be described as pure love and joy as he watched her being born.
Throughout her infancy, terrible twos and now preschooler days, my husband has never been angry or lost his temper with our daughter (unlike bad-tempered mean old Mom). Yes, he disciplines when needed, but even then I can tell that he’s still secretly amused.
They do a lot of “daddy time” things together (roller coaster rides for instance which Mom wont do), and also have a special language / game that just the two of them can understand. Sometimes in the car they’ll be going on and on with quite animated discussions – fascinating, really.
And more evidence of the daddy’s girl phenomena – when the daughter of a good friend of mine was born, her smitten husband promptly had the baby’s foot tattooed on his shoulder. Since then, they’ve had a little boy, but I yet to ask if his feet were tattooed on the opposite shoulder. What do you think?