A good portion of my time is spent in hawk-like observation. There’s how he sleeps, toosh in the air, elbows splayed wildly. There’s how he eats, a small squish of satisfaction with each bite. There’s are the hand signals, a curious wave that he’s developed, that sometimes seems as if he already knows how to greet us. Best of all, there’s his astonishing sound effects, culminating in a magnificent chortle.  People tell us they’ve never heard a baby giggle like that, which of course makes us beam right back.  The giggle starts with a gurgle, a metronome like pulse and it rises in pitch and extends for ten second intervals, repeating in soothing waves. The giggle stops people dead in their tracks, and brings a smile to the most sullen of adults in elevators.  We live for that laugh.  We savor that laugh. We hope that the laugh doesn’t go away, just yet.

Together, papa and I are more like a pair of research scientists as new parents to our collaborative production, observing and noting every change with fascination. As he grows, his participation increases in our lab work increase, and so do our shared laughs, as we crack up together, the three of us giggling uncontrollably. Three people, two brought together by attraction, and the third, by fate, attempting to build a unit of family. Is this how new families are born? Before giving birth, I thought it happened at that movie moment, as the head crowned and the woman roared her final battle cry.  Yet, as our bond grows, it seems that we are still developing our collective character, what makes us more than three people who happen to live together or share names and features.

I’m wondering how we will see ourselves collectively as the personality before us emerges. Is this who he will be?  A wonderfully happy, easy going fella? Perhaps, I’m fooling myself with wishful naive thinking. Yet, it feels authentic, it feels like it’s really him coming into his own. Already, we share a sense of humor. I anticipate what else we will share as his capacity to interact develops. We marvel at his ability to read our faces and into interject a well-placed smile that puts us over the top. Peekaboo is a surefire exercise in coyness that leads to this laughter.

At times I feel like I’m setting him up. When I’m feeling a little anxious about a big insurance bill or a sour business deal, I actually seek him out. Consciously, I look to him for transformation, relying on the fact that most of the time, this child has an uncanny ability to smash a bad mood.  I bait him with a squeeze or a funny face to get my medicine — a good long giggle. And for the moment, I forget my gripe.  I know that he has no responsibility for my emotions, but as his innocence is still 100% intact and his reflexes instinctive, I relish all of joy it brings me.

When it’s all said and done, he won’t remember a thing. Soon, he won’t laugh on command or think that I’m most the exciting source of entertainment in the world, or cling to my pant leg like it’s gold. He’ll learn that he is independent, that he can say no, and that he’ll be consumed by other curiosities in his mind.

In a few years, we’ll tell him stories about when he was a baby, and the endless delight we experienced as he approached year one milestones. We’ll tell him “That’s our boy!”has become our favorite phrase of late. To him, these baby-day stories will be a source of mild embarrassment, to us there the framing aspects of the emergence of person and our sense of validation as needed parents. Already, nine months into it, I feel a wistful, aware of the quick passing of time and life, as the infant qualities fade, and a growing child takes his place. The milestones will continue but the shared moments of concert will be less frequent, but I suspect, just as rewarding.

Of course, the memories of the baby boy will live in our minds and in our limited production 3-minute camera movies, an endless stream of giggles providing the soothing soundtrack to the latest addition in our lives.

• If These Boobs Could Talk: A Little Humor to Pump Up the Breastfeeding Mom (celebrity-babies.com)
• David Sedaris (guardian.co.uk)
• Laughter as Medicine– and Other Stories from MIND (sciam.com)