“Inspiration when I write, I see my daughter’s eyes”
Common, ‘The 6th Sense’

“so if i should ever fall and get caught in a hustle, let ’em know that i died while i fought in the struggle/from the hood rats to rich kids lost in a bubble spray painted on the streets headed to subway tunnels/write it down and remember that we never gave in, the mind of a child is where the revolution begins/so if the solution has never been to look in yourself, how is it that you expect to find it anywhere else”
Immortal Technique, ‘Caught in a hustle’

Anti Iraq demo in Mexico


March 19, 2007

Wow, the days are going by slowly. This is the baby’s ‘date’, yet no sign yet of an imminent arrival. We look set to be arranging a Caesarean section for later this week, a plan that will be confirmed by a visit to the doctor tomorrow.

Over the weekend I can clearly remember a realisation where I suddenly knew that the moment when she’s born, and I’m holding her in my arms will only be comparable to an explosion. All my musings, writing, and imaginings will not amount to much, will be blown apart in fact, by this – life – in my hands.

time travel

March 15, 2007

Well, not quite. But these last few days feel like they’re going incredibly slowly. The doctor said yesterday that it seems our little girl is in no immediate rush to escape the womb, and she’ll probably go past her specific ‘date’.

On a side note, I wish you could all see this video we recorded the other day of A’s stomach. When our daughter decides she fancies a bit of a stretch, A’s belly ends up looking like something out of Aliens. I know, I’m probably not meant to think like that. But I can’t help it, as A’s skin rises and falls, and limb shapes can be seen almost, so it seems, ready to burst out. Incredible.

father’s eyes

March 12, 2007

Over the weekend my mum emailed me 3 scanned photos of me as a newborn baby, in order that we can make comparisons with our own daughter on arrival.

My favourite shot, by far, is one taken when I was all of a day old. Held in my father’s arms, and looking up into his downward-turned face. A look of trust and love.

I couldn’t wish for a better prelude to my own Moment.

the womb

March 7, 2007

Our baby is due any day now, although the ‘date’ is not for another 2 weeks. Apparently, she is ‘poised’, head down, ready to make a move.

There have been several times when I’ve recalled my own birth, or, more accurately, my mum’s retelling of my own birth, an arrival that was primarily marked by the fact that I was both 2 weeks late and even then, my poor mother had to be induced.

I shared this a little hesitantly with A in case (feel free to laugh at this point) there was some genetic handing-down of reluctant birth syndrome, and she felt fated to a similar ordeal. In fact, she merely laughed in my face, and pointed out that even as an unborn child, I was so lazy that I felt no need to leave the womb, where all my nutritional needs were met, and I just floated around feeling rather warm and cosy.

celebrating life

March 2, 2007

Back in November, I posted an entry in which I mused that fatherhood was perhaps ‘the ultimate activism‘. Well here is an excerpt from a book I’m reading by Henri Nouwen called ‘The Road to Peace’. The bit in question was originally written in the context of the threat of Cold War nuclear obliteration, but it is easily transferrable to our own upside-down world, where billions are spent on death rather than life.

“Having a baby seems such a natural, obvious, and rather unspectacular event. But for those who are deeply aware that we are living on a planet that is being prepared for total destruction, in a time that we can be sure only of the past and the present but not for the future, giving life to a new human being becomes an act of resistance. Bringing into the world a little child totally dependent on the care of others and leading it gradually to maturity is true defiance of the power of death and darkness. It is saying loudly: For us life is stronger than death, love is stronger than fear, and hope is stronger than despair.” (Nouwen, The Road to Peace, p.43)