Baby's home: what next?

Your first baby has arrived on the scene, apparently without a user’s manual. Nothing, they say, really prepares you, and everyone has their own take on what to expect from living with a newborn, 24-7.

Where do you start? The Times contributor Bill Dunn talks to Dad Info about straps, poppers and slapstick...and his first experience of The Big Three.

When Sal was born he was in hospital for a week. Nothing more serious than mild jaundice, which made him look like a small bald David Dickinson.

Being a new dad is a bit like getting a new best friend. And like all friendships, the more you put in to it, the more you get out.

As we watched him under his little sun lamp, I looked at his hands. Baby’s hands are incredible – perfect little nails. I put my finger out, and he grasped it with a grip that would have shamed a ring-tailed lemur.

I stared into his impenetrable deep blue – nearly black – eyes and wondered what was going on in there. Probably he was as confused and knackered as we were.

D-day came and I spent half an hour strapping the car seat into our car. Everything to do with babies involves straps – strapping the little blighter into pushchairs, car seats and, later, highchairs and swings. Then I went to collect…my family.

You know that bit in Pulp Fiction where they’ve got the body in the boot? I have never driven so carefully. This first journey carrying your first child is one of the most stressful of your life. I put on a CD. "The Young Knives is going to terrify him", worried his mum, Katy. We settled on Muse… very low.

• Your newborn: do's and don'ts for the first few weeks 

Home and away

I’d read a book that said when you take your baby home, you should show him round - like a prospective lodger, but one who’s going to live there rent-free on full board for the next two decades. "This is the bathroom, this is the bedroom, this is your room", we said.

He seemed unimpressed. What now?

Newborn babies are extremely portable, so – weather permitting – get out there sooner rather than later, or it becomes a BIG THING. Nothing beats the feeling of wheeling your baby out in his pushchair the first time. You feel about ten feet tall, although other people just see a bloke with a pushchair walking peculiarly.

As the husband of a breast-feeding mum, you get a pretty easy ride. But you can – and should – change nappies. It’s not that bad… at first. Nature gets you used to it with nothing more than a little green dribble. Later on, as he’s weaned, it becomes more real, but you don’t need to worry about that yet.

• Play time

Dressed and unrest

Dressing him is another challenge. You will quickly become adept at poppers, press studs and the mystic art of babygro.

But the first time, as you dress him in nappy, vest and the little suit (remember that order – it’s crucial) your fingers feel the size of tree stumps.

Bathing is another big bonding experience for the new dad and baby. A nerve-wracking one, though – the first time I did it I remembered all the episodes of CSI where the guy drowns in an inch of water. Keep calm, keep smiling and don’t relax for, ooh… 20 years.

And patience is the key – especially when you receive The Big Three… and you will.

One day, I took him out of the bath and dried him in a nice, fresh, fluffy towel. He then puked on me, shat on the towel and, while I was wondering what to do, I felt something warm on my legs and feet. Yes, he’d peed on me too.

The first few months pass in a blur of nappies, broken sleep and cooing. But imperceptibly, his perceptions are developing. He starts reaching for things. Try a baby gym – at the very least it’s somewhere to leave him while you go and make a cup of coffee with a clean conscience.

• The whole kit and caboodle

Getting to know you

I played guitar to him, and he is the only person in the world who is in any way appreciative of my musical talent.

One morning, I went to fetch him from his cot and he looked so excited to see me, kicking his arms and legs around. His little dark, alien eyes had lit up with human warmth – he really was a person now.

Then there was the first time I made him laugh – it sounded like Beavis, or Butthead, I don’t know which – but it was a definite laugh. Humour at this stage revolves around the slapstick – but that’s OK, because mine always has.

Being a new dad is a bit like getting a new best friend. And like all friendships, the more you put in to it, the more you get out.

Author

Bill Dunn

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