Meet the parents: A newborn's perspective

Husband-and-wife journalists and new parents Bob Miller and Callie Clark Miller use this space to offer their views on everyday issues.

DAWSON SAID: I got to meet Mom and Dad this week.

Good folks, but not exactly parental geniuses, those two.

They spent most of their time gawking and oohing and aahing over me, like I was some huge, warm bottle. They spent quite a bit of time complaining about their lack of sleep, though I don't know why they're complaining. I sleep fine. I get lots of it every day, tucked into Dad's elbow or resting on Mom's shoulder. I don't see why they shouldn't hold me when I'm sleeping. In fact, I insist on it. It's the least they can do after they pushed me out of my warm, quiet little world inside Mom's tummy.

I got the sense that Mom was frightened of me at first. When the nurses handed me over to her, she acted as if she didn't know what to do with me. I heard her tell someone she hadn't held a newborn before. But here's a secret just between you and me: I couldn't tell. You see, I'd never been held by a parent before. The next day or two, I got held by a lot of people I've never seen (which is everybody, really), and they all seemed pretty nice, even that teenage boy they call Uncle Rus.

Dad, of course, held me lots. He looked pretty tired. Unlike Mom, he had wiry hair all over his face. It was kind of rough. And at night, he always has this blank look about him. But he handled me pretty well, and he seemed to know what to do.

I liked being held by my grandmothers and my brother. I could tell they never wanted to put me down, but they usually did when I started fussing, because Mom would come over and take care of me. I've been eating quite a bit. Mom and Dad laugh at me when I open my mouth and wave my head back and forth, looking for food. I heard Dad say to a nurse that I look like Stevie Wonder, whoever that is.

My first sponge bath was quite an experience. At one point, Dad held me above his head so Mom could wash my back. I saw Mom reading a book on how to wash me, but I can't imagine that was in the instructions. And we won't go into detail about the little surprise that came out in the bath tub. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Later in the week, Dad accidentally bumped my belly button (which, around here, we call our "bee-bo"), and my cord fell off. "Is that supposed to happen now?" I heard him ask Mom. But I stayed calm because it didn't hurt. I like my new bee-bo.

Mom and Dad keep sticking this rubbery thing in my mouth. It's kind of like a bottle with no milk attached. It's OK to suck on for a while, but it gets old and I spit it out. I don't know why they keep sticking it back in.

And, my gosh, you should have seen Mom and Dad worry about my bowel movements this week. Mind you, it was uncomfortable for a couple of days while I didn't produce any, but Mom and Dad have got to relax. It all came out in the end. No big deal.

I've learned a lot these last two weeks. As you can see, I've already figured out how to write. Impressive, no doubt. But I see that Mom and Dad are learning, too. Mom's not afraid of me anymore (most of the time). She's doing a great job of keeping up with me. (I admit, I can be a "challenge" sometimes.) And Dad, on the rare occasions he takes the camera out of my face, has been pretty good, too.

All this in two weeks. There's no telling what the next two weeks will bring.

Callie Clark Miller is Dawson Miller's new pillow and the special publications managing editor for the Southeast Missourian. Bob Miller is the newly appointed official baby photographer and the Southeast Missourian managing editor. You can try to reach them at cmiller@semissourian.com and bmiller@semissourian.com. Dawson might e-mail you back.