With less than 6 weeks till I am announced a fully fledge mumma (Seahorse better stay in situ till full term. Please!!) it was time to get practicing with how to hug, hold, cradle and soothe a wee baby. A trip to Paris was just the prescription for this preparation into motherhood. After all my dear pal Kym, whom I met over a decade ago in Perth (at a sexual health medical conference, no less) was now living in Paris with her dashing Frenchman Jerome and together they had produced a child whom I had not yet met.
It was high time that Aunty Alice made her appearance into Baby Natan’s life…
Soon enough I shall become a parent myself, but for now aunting provides me with a wonderful, powerful taste of it. Assuming the role of Natan’s Aunty Alice, it feels like second nature to declare that I will always be part of his family, with all the history his mother and I share, the complexity of living in different continents, and fidelity that such connections entail. I could not drop the child like a waning friendship, even if I wanted to. I feel as though I have known Kym, and by extension, Natan forever, and they have known me.
I have become a devoted babysitter and adorer of the ‘next generation’. That is to say that I really love kids—not in the vaseline lens children-are-our-future way, but in the real down-on-all-fours, oh-what’s-a-little-baby puke-on-my-new black cashmere cape way. Babies smell great, and are but a vessel of light and love, so innocent and helpless. They respond to sincere attention and affection.
Don’t we all?