First Steps
Late last week, my youngest son took his first steps. At ten months, he decided that something on the sofa was important enough to get up from his seat on the floor and take two (and a half) faltering steps towards it. Right before reaching his goal, he overbalanced and teetered forward. Fortunately, there was someone there to catch him; his Daddy.
I was there.
My first son took his first steps at daycare, in a room full of relative strangers. In fact, I wasn’t told, and didn’t know my son was walking until the weekend after. At the time, I’ll admit, I didn’t give it much thought. I suppose I took for granted that there was nothing abnormal about missing your child’s first steps. With both parents in the workplace and our son in daycare for almost nine hours each day, what other situation could anyone expect?
But last week, after months of light practice and coaching, I sat on the sofa and watched as my baby levered his 23 pounds of Creole confection onto his almost steady bowed legs, reach out his arms and walk…to me!
I was there to witness it all. I was there to catch him before he fell. I was there to lift him high and delight in his giggles as we celebrated together over the success of his first steps.
His accomplishment wasn’t overlooked by a caregiver who wouldn’t feel the same pride that I felt witnessing this event. This time I was there.
But beyond the joy and pride and relief I felt at being there, was the subtle sadness and regret that newly blossomed with the realization of what I missed by not being there when my oldest son first walked. And the pity I felt for my wife who had missed the event by just over 30 minutes.
After long minutes of celebration, my son and I calmed and practiced several times so we could recreate the event for mommy when she got home.
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