Much in a name
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The joys of new life
As I sit writing this post my soundscape is filled with the
contented murmurings of my daughter as she sleeps in the bassinet beside my
bed. During a point in each sleep cycle she becomes quite animated, her
breathing quick and irregular, her little palms flailing in front of
her face and her lips letting out wordless utterances of agony or ecstasy. Such
is the way with the dreams of a newborn child, where the realness of the experience
manifests itself in the physiology of the dreamer.
Just what a newborn dreams about is hard to imagine - perhaps a pleasant dream about the cosiness of the womb or a nightmare about her sudden exit from it.
My daughter Amelia entered the world just two weeks ago. Every moment since then has been one of bliss for my wife Melanie and I, even the moments when Amelia's contented murmurings metamorphosise into pained screams from deep in her lungs.
As parents of a newborn we can quite happily while away the hours with Amelia, cuddling up and talking t…
Just what a newborn dreams about is hard to imagine - perhaps a pleasant dream about the cosiness of the womb or a nightmare about her sudden exit from it.
My daughter Amelia entered the world just two weeks ago. Every moment since then has been one of bliss for my wife Melanie and I, even the moments when Amelia's contented murmurings metamorphosise into pained screams from deep in her lungs.
As parents of a newborn we can quite happily while away the hours with Amelia, cuddling up and talking t…