My son is two weeks old now and he's spent every minute of his life inside.
He was born in a hospital, packed in a transport incubator and moved to another hospital. So, thus far, his concept of the world includes four walls, a ceiling, wires attached to him, a slew of machines that beep and flash and an endless stream of big people who come and go wearing robes or scrubs.
|"So, I'll no longer be waited on hand and foot by a team|
of experts? I demand an explanation."
Aside from perfume or fabric softener, he hasn't smelled much. His sight is still developing, and there's not much imagery happening yet. Thanks mostly to his mom's singing, he's heard music. Though he's not heard birds chirping. Ditto for the feel of the sun shining on his skin and a summer breeze. He's just begun feeding but that's a one-item diet so, he's not tasting much either.
That said, he's set to come home this week and will soon see, smell, touch, taste and hear the "outside world."
So, what awaits him?
No sooner will he pass through the hospital doors then will he hear traffic, likely punctuated with the occasional car horn. He'll hear groups of people shuffling about, some talking loudly, some whispering and some laughing.
The weather forecast calls for sun and 80-degree temperatures all week so, he'll see the sun and feel it's warmth on his soft skin for the first time. There are potted plants and foliage throughout the hospital grounds so, perhaps he'll pick up a whiff of flowers, or maybe fresh-cut grass.
Then, he'll feel the firm, cushy security of a car seat. He'll perhaps wonder what's going on as gravity pulls on him as the car turns, speeds up, slows down and rolls over bumps and potholes.
Mom and dad both like the Beatles so, as he's experiencing these firsts, he'll likely have Rubber Soul playing.
When he gets home, he'll have a fuzzy image of a ceiling that's not made up of panels. He'll be walked around the house, bright with natural light.
He'll feel the sensation of his bottom sitting in a sink, and an endless trickle of warm water. He'll smell his mother and father's cooking.
He'll feel the cushy awesomeness of a cradle lined with blankets made by friends and family that love him.
Then maybe, just maybe, he'll hear the sound of two parents sleeping.