It’s already been a year—one that, I could say, has quite literally flown by—since last April 23rd, when Edo entered our lives and changed them completely.
I don’t want to get too caught up in analyzing how things were before and what has changed since; I was fully aware that a change like this would turn everything upside down.
It’s easier to talk about sleepless nights (which were actually very few), diapers, baby food, and cries (also quite rare)… but it’s much more complex to describe the beauty behind it all. And here I must get a little cliché: only those who have truly experienced it can fully understand.
No one is ever really ready to be a parent—at least not with the first child. It takes a lot of effort to accept your own limitations and learn to live with them, always trying your best, without letting it become a source of frustration.
I’ll always remember that strange, slightly worried feeling of no longer being just the two of us at home, but having another little being there, breathing the same air, completely dependent on our attention—and equally affected by our shortcomings.
At times, the fear of not doing the right thing, of simply being inadequate, can be paralyzing. But that feeling belongs to a moment, not a permanent state.
Over these past months, I’ve rediscovered what instinct really is—something our evolved society tries hard to regulate and channel into socially acceptable behaviors, governed by logic and common sense.
But the irrationality of instinct—especially in adults—is usually restricted to very specific areas.
A newborn, however, breaks down all those barriers, mostly because… how can you explain them to him?
And that opens up a completely different horizon. It forces you to put yourself fully on the line—not just with your free time, but in every single part of daily life.
It’s a strange kind of rediscovery, but a truly fascinating one.
Watching your child nibble on a cookie without panicking every time it looks like he’s about to choke or throw up—that takes instinct, and a calmness that isn’t always easy to access or explain.
But let’s get back to the best part:
How amazing is it to hold your child in your arms?
How magical is it to hold their tiny hand as they try to stand up, or when they point at something completely random?
How deeply does their toothless smile and innocent gaze fill your heart?
At night, you’re often exhausted—barely able to drag yourself to bed—and yet watching them go full speed between a stuffed animal, a ball, or a toy car is, in a strange way, restorative.
Having a child—especially when you’re not that young anymore, like me—makes you look at the future with hope, with joy, with curiosity and wonder.
It stretches your life by shortening your days.
It’s a miracle. In the truest sense of the word.
(Translated via ChatGPT)
