June 2026 :: Getting to Know Each Other

June 1

It was supposed to be the day we finally went home. Instead, the hospital had other plans.

A booking error meant your ultrasonography never happened. No appointment, no test, no discharge. It was frustrating, but then I looked at you, and the frustration quietly dissolved.

What actually happened was the doctor came by in the morning and pointed me toward a different building for the scan. So I did what any new father would do. I strapped you into the Kinderwagen, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door to the world. Our very first stroll together.

I won't pretend I wasn't nervous. The wheels on the pavement, the curbs, the uneven sidewalk, every little bump felt enormous when you were the cargo. But somewhere along that short walk through the hospital grounds, something clicked. My grip loosened, my steps steadied, and I found my rhythm. Father and son, figuring it out one push at a time.

The test didn't happen, of course. We turned around and came back empty-handed. I went home for a while and with tomorrow's homecoming finally in sight, I cleaned and organized the whole flat, making sure everything was ready for you. Every corner tidied, every little thing in its place, because you deserved to come home to something prepared with love. Then I made my way back to the hospital in the evening. And the moment I saw you again after just a few hours apart it felt like coming up for air. A new energy, warm and inexplicable, filled the room.

You are so tiny, my son. Those little hands, those little feet. I keep staring at them like they hold some secret I'm still trying to understand.

I've decided something today: I'm going to photograph every single day of your first month. A photo book. One frame at a time, I'll hold onto what I know I'll otherwise forget. Because time, I'm already learning, moves differently when you're watching someone grow.

June 2

Today, we brought you home. And oh, what a feeling that was.

The morning started much like the day before. Back to the children's clinic, Kinderwagen in hand. But today was different. Yesterday I was nervous, gripping the handlebar like it might escape me. Today, I pushed with confidence, with the quiet pride of a father who had already taken his first steps. The tests went smoothly, and the doctor, after a careful look at you, offered the words every new parent desperately wants to hear: everything looks normal.

We got our release letter. We were free.

We reached out to our dear friend FAK, and without a moment's hesitation, she said yes. She arrived, we packed up everything we had accumulated over those hospital days, and called an Uber. But before we walked out those doors, we paused. We thanked the staff, genuinely, from the deepest part of our hearts for everything they had done.

And then, finally home.

Your Nani was waiting. The flat was ready, just as I had prepared it the evening before. You crossed the threshold of your very first home, small and perfect and completely unaware of how long we had waited for this moment.

But the evening carried a quiet worry too. Your mother's breast milk isn't coming in as much as she had hoped, and it weighs heavily on her. We are supplementing with formula for now, making sure you are fed and content.

One day at a time, my son. We're home now.

June 3

The midwife came to visit us today. She moved through our home with calm, practiced hands showing us how to hold you properly, how to coax a burp out of that tiny body, how to make sure you were comfortable and safe in our arms. Things that sound simple until you're actually holding a new life and realize how much you don't yet know. She checked on your mother too, examining her surgery wound with gentle care. And then she sat down and showed your mother how to breastfeed more effectively, with patience and without judgment.

June 5

One week. You are one week old today, my little boy. Happy 1st week birthday.

Your mother and I decided this deserved a celebration. Nothing grand, just a little homey moment to mark the occasion. I bought a cake, we dressed you up, and did a little photo shoot right here in our living room. You had no idea what was happening, of course, but you looked absolutely perfect.

We needed this. The last few days have been a beautiful kind of crazy. The kind that leaves you exhausted and grateful in the same breath. We are both new at this. We are learning every single day, and yes, we are making mistakes too. But we are making them together, and I think that counts for something.

The sleep schedule is, to put it gently, completely upside down. Your mother watches over your every feeding and sleeping moment with a dedication that humbles me. I have taken on the outer world. Groceries, shopping runs, and the mountain of paperwork that comes with a new life in Germany. Your birth registration is already in progress. Because in this country, even the most tender moments come with forms to fill.

But tonight, there was cake. And you were dressed beautifully. And we were a family of three, marking seven days of figuring it all out.

June 6

These days, my favourite thing to do is simply look at you.

I sit beside you and watch.Eevery tiny flicker of expression, every scrunch of your nose, every fleeting movement that crosses your face like a passing cloud. For nine months, your mother and I lay awake wondering. How will he look? What will his voice sound like? Will he have her eyes or mine? And now, here you are. No longer a question, but an answer. A living, breathing, impossibly real answer. It still feels surreal, if I'm being honest. Like a dream I keep expecting to wake up from.

Right after you were born, everyone said the same thing: you look like your Dadabhai. His hair, slightly spikey, with a mind of its own and his eyes too. I smiled when I heard it, that quiet pride of a family trait passed down without asking. But already, just one week in, your face is shifting. You are becoming more yourself, more expressive, your features settling into something uniquely yours. I am watching it happen in real time, and I cannot look away.

Your YAN Chacha and Monu Chachi came to visit today, and they arrived with arms full of love and an entire pack of diapers. I think we are covered for the next month, haha.

But the gift that stayed with me wasn't the diapers. It was watching you settle so quietly, so peacefully into Monu Chachi's arms. They had planned to stay just thirty minutes. They ended up staying nearly two hours. Nobody wanted to say goodbye and honestly, who could blame them? You have that effect on people already.

Looking around at everyone who has come through our door, friends who drove hours, friends who brought gifts, friends who simply sat beside us, I felt something shift quietly inside me. You are one week old and already so loved. Not just by your parents, but by a whole circle of people who will watch you grow, cheer for you, and hold you when needed.

You are blessed, my son. Alhamdulillah. And I pray you carry that warmth with you always that you grow into someone who loves as freely as you are loved today.

June 7

And there is good news on another front too. Your mother's breast milk is coming in more now, and what a relief that is. The midwife had reassured us that for caesarean births, a slower start is completely normal. The supply grows as the baby latches more. Your mother took that advice to heart and has been feeding you every two to three hours without fail, through tired eyes and interrupted sleep, with a dedication that leaves me in awe. It is working. Her persistence is paying off, and you are feeding well.

June 8

Today, I went back to work.

Two weeks of living entirely in your world. Your sounds, your schedule, your tiny face and suddenly I had to put on my shoes, walk out the door, and return to a life that existed before you. It felt wrong in the most loving way possible. Like tearing a piece of my heart out and leaving it at home.

But then evening came, and I walked back through our door and there you were. That face. Those eyes. And just like that, everything that had accumulated over the entire day. The emails, the meetings, the noise of the outside world dissolved completely. You have no idea what you do to a room simply by being in it.

June 10

Today you had your first bath. And tonight, you nearly stopped our hearts.

Your mother had been eager to bathe you for days, but the midwife wanted to wait until the umbilical cord stump fell off. It happened yesterday. So this morning, it was time.

The midwife guided us through the whole process. The water was around 37 degrees. When we first put you in, you resisted for a moment, but within seconds you felt the warmth and calmed right down. Your mother and the midwife washed you gently while your Dida watched over video call. You looked so fresh afterward.

But the night was frightening. We put you down to sleep and you seemed uncomfortable, gasping for breath. Your mother panicked completely. She was throwing her hands and feet around, yelling, not knowing what to do. Your Nani and I kept our heads calm, changed your sleeping position, and gently patted your back. After about two minutes you were breathing normally again. Your mother was still urging me to call an ambulance but as you settled, she slowly calmed down too.

It was one of the scariest moments I have experienced as a father. But I have to be honest, when I thought back on it later, the image of your mother flailing around in full panic mode made us both burst out laughing. She laughed at herself too. Sometimes that is how you survive the scary moments, you find the funny side of it afterward.

First thing next morning I called the children's specialist nearby and booked an appointment for Friday. I was not taking any chances.

June 12

Today was a doctor's appointment but it felt like our first real family outing.

All three of us went together, your mother, your Nani, and me. It was only a 15 minute walk but it took us almost double the time because we kept stopping to take photos with you. It genuinely felt like a hangout more than an errand.

The doctor examined you and told us you had a mild cold caused by a common virus, very normal in newborns and nothing serious to worry about. He prescribed saline nose drops. We were so relieved. On the way back we stopped at the local pharmacy. Your mother and I had visited there many times during the pregnancy so they already knew about you. Seeing you for the first time, they were genuinely delighted.

It is a nice feeling, my son. The people you cross paths with every day were quietly waiting for you too.

June 13

Today the whole Frankfurter family came to visit you.

Your uncles and aunts arrived together and filled the flat with warmth and noise. It had been a while since we had all been in the same room and it was really good to see those familiar faces. You also received a very special gift from them, a small gold bar. Such a generous and thoughtful gesture. We are very, very grateful.

We ate together, talked for hours and did what we do best, adda. Long conversations, no agenda, just good company. In a city far from home, that kind of gathering means a lot.

You slept through most of it, of course. But you were right there in the middle of it all, the reason everyone came.

June 15

Today I went to the office again and I missed you the whole day.

It is a strange feeling, sitting at your desk, going through emails and meetings, while your mind keeps drifting back home. I missed your smell most of all. That soft, warm baby smell that I cannot really describe but would recognize anywhere.

When I finally got home, I did not even stop to put my bag down. I went straight to you, leaned in and just took a long breath. That was all I needed. All the tiredness from the day disappeared instantly.

I did not know before you arrived that a smell could do that to a person. But here we are.

June 16

Your birth certificate arrived today. You are officially official.

Getting here was not simple. The paperwork demanded everything, including our original marriage certificates, because that is how things work in Germany. Every step has a form, every form has a requirement, and every requirement leads to another document. The usual German bureaucracy, as we have come to know it.

But holding that certificate in my hands today felt significant. Your name, written down, stamped and recognized by the country you were born in. You arrived into this world two weeks ago but today Germany acknowledged you properly.

Welcome to the system, my son. You are real now, at least on paper. You always were to us.

June 18

And the Germans wasted absolutely no time sending you your Tax ID as well. You are not even a month old and you already have a tax number. I had to laugh at that. Do not worry though, you do not have to pay anything right now. It is just a formality here. But it does mean we can now apply for Kindergeld and Elterngeld, which is actually good news for the family.

June 21

It was very hot today in Germany. The temperature reached about 35 degrees Celsius, which is unusual for us here. The next few days are expected to be even worse.

We were especially worried about you. We kept hoping this heat would not affect you too much.

June 22

You were a bit fussy last night, and the heat may have been the reason.

Later today, the midwife advised us to keep you without clothes. So that is what we did. We also moved from the bedroom to the living room because it is a little cooler there. Your mother and you are now sleeping on a mattress on the floor, I am sleeping on the couch, and your Nani is staying in the bedroom.

We are doing whatever we can to keep everyone comfortable.

June 26

We had another appointment with the child doctor today. It was your U3 checkup, along with a general examination.

The doctor also advised us to give you a little bit of water. Normally they do not recommend this for newborns, but because of the extreme heat, they are allowing it for now.

June 27

Today the temperature broke the record in Germany. It reached 41 degrees Celsius. Without air conditioning, it felt unbearable.

But alhamdulillah, you are not sick. That is the only thing that really matters. Thankfully, it should get better from Monday.

June 29

Today you completed one month. That is a big milestone.

Time is moving fast. It feels like just the other day we brought you home from the hospital, and now it has already been a month. I sometimes think about how quickly this phase will pass. One day it will be one year, and then you will be grown up. That thought is both exciting and a little overwhelming. So I am trying to stay present and enjoy every moment with you.

You are already showing your personality. You are a curious little boy. You like to observe everything around you. You can now move your neck from side to side and try to look around. It is amazing to watch these small changes happening every day.

You also prefer being in our arms more than lying on the bed. Especially at night, we have to hold you for a while before you fall asleep. It can be challenging at times, but it is also a reminder of how much you need us right now.

June 30

The weather has become a bit more comfortable now. Alhamdulillah, you are healthy.

A big part of that credit goes to your mother. Yes, she does get panicked at times, but the way she takes care of you is incredible. The person who used to struggle to wake up early is now waking up every two to three hours without complaint, just to feed you. Right now, her whole world revolves around your feeding and your diapers.

Today was a funny moment. You had not pooped for almost 30 hours, and she was getting worried. And then when it finally happened, she was so happy that she almost shouted, “He pooped!” The way she reacted, you would think she had won a jackpot. We both laughed about it.

My son, you may not realize this now, but remember it one day. Your mother is one of the greatest blessings in your life. She comes before anyone else. Love her, respect her, and never hurt her.