Dr Spock (& not the one with the funny ears)

So, I’ve written a book. I’m officially a 'wannabe author'. It's officially not a book. It's only a book when it's published, if that ever happens. Until then it's officially a 'manuscript'.

So, I've officially written a manuscript.

It’s currently with a professional editor being professionally edited (whatever that means), but really it’s done & dusted.  

I thought I’d unveil a small part of my book right here, right now. 


I can’t promise it’ll be anything like the unveiling of a sparkly, new, Apple gizmo (or gizmo mark 3). It’s only my book. It’s quite hard to achieve the elusive 'wow-factor' with the unveiling of a small bit of a wannabe author's first manuscript.

But anyway, it is what it is. My first book. Ah. 

It’s taken me almost 2 years. 


It was like laying an egg. I've never laid an egg. But I imagine it's hard. Not for hens. It's water off a duck's back to them. But to us laying an egg would be agony. Just like my book. I started tapping away on the keyboard the day after Pearl was born - on 5th July 2010 to be precise - and I didn’t stop ‘til a few weeks back. My head was full of ideas and stuff. 


& then it kind of all came together as a story.   

Talking of books, Dr Benjamin Spock died on March 15th 1998. He wrote one of the best-selling books of all time. Baby and Child Care. It sold more than 50million copies and it turned the whole world of parenting upside down. It quite literally changed the world. It was that big. If you’re reading this blog I can guarantee that your childhood was probably influenced by Dr Spock. You might not think that it was, but the vast majority of our parents or carers were influenced to some degree by Spock. & not the one with the funny ears.

It seems so simple now, but guess what he said back in the mid-1960’s?

Parents know more than they think they do. 

That was pretty much it. 

It wasn’t completely it. He said a whole heap more. But really, in a nutshell, what he said was that mothers need to trust their instincts more; that parents are the real experts in parenting. Before he said this, parents were pretty much told that they knew nothing. They were told how to be parents and this mainly involved punishment, discipline, little emotion and limited individualism. All babies and kids were the same, apparently. Emotion was a bad thing. The experts were experts and parents ought to listen to the experts and not to their instincts. It was complete twaddle. 

Dr Spock changed all that. Thank god. Well, thank Spock. 

This small snippet from my book kind of says the same thing as the great Dr Spock (& not the one with the funny ears)  

... 

from ch. 2 of & then there were three by David Pich

... Since Pearl’s arrival I had handled her only three times. On each occasion I had been petrified. My hands felt like bunches of bananas every time they went anywhere near my tiny daughter. The problem was that Pearl looked so tiny and fragile and, when I held her, she felt like little more than skin and bones. I was scared to death. Scared that I would drop her, crush her, hurt her, or inflict some combination of each of these on her tiny frame. My desire to avoid a father-induced, newborn baby catastrophe meant that, on each of the three occasions, I had been forced to rely on the same trusty technique that has been deployed down the ages by a significant proportion of the male population in situations demanding concentration and a steady hand; I held my breath and clenched my tongue between my teeth, with the very tip showing clearly between my lips. It wasn’t ideal but, so far at least, it had worked; Pearl was still undropped. Uninjured. In one piece. Alive. 

I stood, rather sheepishly, next to the bed and watched Dr Dunlop as he examined Pearl. It was chalk and cheese. The way that Dr Dunlop interacted with Pearl was a different kettle of fish entirely. He definitely wasn’t holding his breath. I was absolutely sure about that because, as he was unswaddling my daughter, he was talking to me. Talking! Perfectly normally and coherently. When I had fleetingly held Pearl, anything resembling conversation was not only out of the question, it was the stuff of dreams. I found it hard enough to inhale and exhale when my daughter was lying amongst my bunches of bananas. 


I looked at Dr Dunlop’s mouth. There was no sign of the tip of his tongue. No sign at all. I had to face facts, Dr Dunlop oozed confidence. Knowing that he had handled a fair few babies during the course of his professional life was no consolation whatsoever. This was my daughter; my Pearl. I was a real papa now and I desperately wanted to act like one. I definitely didn’t want to act like a dithering idiot. There would be plenty of far more appropriate moments in my future life as the papa of Pearl Pich for me to prove myself a dithering idiot.  

In the end I couldn’t help myself. There was an expert in the house and he seemed perfectly capable of conducting a conversation whilst doing his job. So, trying my best to sound as nonchalant as I possibly could, I asked Dr Dunlop if newborn babies were really as fragile as they looked. I didn’t mention holding my breath, or my tongue gymnastics. Dr Dunlop’s answer to my question didn’t sound particularly earth-shattering, nor did it feel overly significant. Little did I know that, in the weeks and months ahead, his words would to return to Eileen and I time and again or that, in many ways, they would shape us as new parents and help us to navigate our way through the minefield that was parenthood. 

Dr Dunlop was partway through the process of giving Pearl a very thorough check from top to toe. He certainly wasn’t intending to offer us any particular pearls of wisdom. In fact, as he spoke he was fully-focussed on Pearl. He only really said three things, but each of them was a gem; a genuine pearl of wisdom. Unintended they might have been, but pearls of wisdom they definitely were. 

Dr Dunlop’s 1st Unintended Pearl of Wisdom

(He took a torch from the inside pocket of his jacket and he looked into each of Pearl’s ears)

'Follow your instincts and common-sense as a parent. Your instincts and common-sense will usually turn out to be right.'

Pearl’s ears seemed to be fine.

Dr Dunlop’s 2nd Unintended Pearl of Wisdom

(He turned Pearl onto her back, wiggled her arms around in circles at her shoulder sockets, and her legs in bicycle-kick motions at her hip sockets)

'Throw all the books that people have given you about parenting in the bin. The baby-book market is based on creating fear and guilt amongst new parents. Books cause parents to stop trusting their instincts and using their common-sense. They make parents doubt themselves.'

Pearl’s arms, shoulders, legs and hips seemed to be fine. 

Dr Dunlop’s 3rd Unintended Pearl of Wisdom

(He directed the light from his torch into Pearl’s eyes and ran his hands over her skull from front to back. He then turned her over and felt all the way down her spine)

'As a parent the worrying starts now and it never really stops or goes away. You have to learn to live with this worry and not allow it to prevent you from being great parents.'

Pearl’s eyes, skull, the back of her neck and spine all seemed to be fine. Throughout the examination Pearl hadn’t made a sound. Neither had I. I had been too busy holding my breath, my tongue was clenched between my teeth and I was acutely aware that its tip was showing between my lips. That was it, the examination was over. Three unintended pearls of wisdom had been delivered. Dr Dunlop gathered Pearl up and passed her over to me.

This was it. My time had come. I knew it. Dr Dunlop knew it. I could see by the look in his eyes as he was passing Pearl over to me that he knew it. I could continue down the same road as before - a complete bag of nerves, with my breath held and the tip of my tongue clearly visible. Or I could leave all that behind. I could trust my instincts. I could let common-sense overcome fear. I could let the force be with me. This really was it. My own personal Luke Skywalker moment had arrived.

I decided right there and right then that it was time for me to become a proper papa. I concentrated. Focussed. Relaxed. And I took Pearl from Dr Dunlop. He smiled. It was a smile of pure encouragement. A smile that told me that I could do it; that he wanted me to do it. I concentrated. I concentrated on concentrating. I focused on focussing. On breathing. On keeping my tongue in. On holding my daughter. And eventually, finally, I gave Pearl Matisse Pich her very first - and the first of very many - papa-daughter cuddles. It was only a gentle cuddle, but for the very first time my hands didn’t feel like bunches of bananas. It was our first cuddle without any obvious sign of fear and it was the happiest moment of my short life as a parent. 

Of course, lurking somewhere at the back of my mind there was still a hint of doubt. I knew it was there, I could feel it bubbling away. But for the first time I was able to control it, to see beyond it. I discovered that right there, on the other side of my worries and fears, was something very different, something new and beautiful; joy, excitement and happiness. 

For a brief moment I caught my first glimpse of the joy, excitement and happiness of fatherhood.

(copyright, of course)

...

RIP Dr Spock


Hope you have a great week.

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