PL and I were sitting on the couch in her room in the hospital. It was 10 am, Zoe had been fed and was asleep in my arms. It was quiet.
Yes, the hospital was still going about its business, but quietly. This was a maternity ward after all, and mothers and babies need their rest. Even at 10 am on a Monday morning.
It was PL’s birthday, and I had made her a chocolate lava cake. Well two actually, in case she should eat one all by herself (she didn’t).
(I had made the batter the night before, then filled two ramekins, and froze them. In the morning, I baked then at 240C for 15 minutes. One of them was still gooey at the bottom, I turned it over for another 5 minutes.)
She ate half and I was “snacking” on the leftover. But mostly, I was just enjoying the peace and quiet with my wife, and my new daughter.
“Quiet time,” I told PL.
And we sat there, just being a couple, with a baby, just being a family. Just being.
Things will get hectic. There may be stress. We may get harried, and hurried, and rushed. But for that moment, we had our quiet time. We recognised it. And we enjoyed it. And we loved it.