I feel a quiet tenderness as I wait for Baby Sparky to arrive at my seaside cottage, on the south coast of New South Wales. I have had some experience as a daddy in London, but Sparky is the first baby I have cared for since I came to Australia. I look at the letter Benjamin has sent me, to remind myself of his personal details. As an adult he is twenty years old, but in baby-mode he is a toddler of about two and a half years. He can walk, and he can talk a bit, but he still wets and dirties in his nappy. He still needs help with feeding, and he likes to be nursed with a bottle. He prefers cloth nappies to disposables because he thinks it is fun to make a big mess for Daddy in the soft cloth. He wants gentleness and kindness, not punishment and humiliation. Good! That's the way I like it too! All I want is to create for him a safe protected supportive environment, in which he can be the carefree little toddler he longs to be.
I wander into the nursery to make sure everything is ready. There is the little bed, waiting for Baby, with a pretty doona cover with pictures of cute elephants and giraffes. Next to the bed is a low table. On the table there is a soft night light, in case Baby is frightened of the dark, and next to that there is a big pile of fluffy nappies, a roll of the softest toilet paper, a box of baby wipes, a tin of Johnson’s baby powder, and some soothing cream in case Baby suffers from nappy rash. All the necessary things for keeping Baby Sparky clean, fresh, comfortable and happy. Next to the bed there is a nappy bucket, with a lid, so Baby's wet and messy clothing can be removed discretely, and on the floor there is a changing mat.
I go to the bathroom. There, on the edge of the bath, are toy boats and rubber duckies for Baby to play with. In the laundry there is a big container of Napisan. In the kitchen there is a baby bottle, lots of milk, and tins of squishy high fibre baby food. In the living room, on the floor, there are toys galore, colouring books and story books too. I smile happily. Everything is ready for Baby Sparky.
A car pulls up outside, there is a timid knock at the door, and a moment later Sparky is in the room. He looks nervous and vulnerable. We have a beer, and we talk for a while. I think it will be re-assuring for him, if we converse as adults for a while, before I help him to relax into baby mode. He's never been a baby with someone else before. It's such a big leap of trust. Baby admits that he feels particularly nervous about pooping his nappy. I say to him, "Daddy is always pleased and proud when one of his babies poops his pants, because it shows Daddy that Baby is a healthy and happy." I then ask Sparky if he would like to see his nursery, and he nods shyly. When we enter the room, his eyes are wide with wonderment. He tells coyly that he needs to wee and poo real bad, coz he hasn't been to the toilet since he left Sydney. He smiles and giggles and puts a finger in his mouth. Already he is feeling safe, and he is beginning to regress. Everything is going well.
Half an hour later, Baby is tucked up in bed. He is wearing a nappy and plastic pilchers and a soft flannel nightshirt. He is curled up in foetal position, hugging a teddy bear and sucking his pacifier. By the gentle glow of the night light I am reading him a chapter from "Winnie the Pooh." There are no traffic noises here, only the distant sound of the sea. All is peaceful.
A mild aroma in the nursery lets me know that Baby has already pooped in his nappy and will need a change before bye-byes. Good boy! Daddy will be pleased to care for you. Baby is half asleep when I change him and clean him up. That's okay! No need for baby to stir. After I have rinsed the mess out of his nappy and put it in the bucket to soak, I sit in the living room and reflect on the evening's events.
Why do I do this? I ask myself. Why am I willing to give all this care to babies, asking for nothing in return? Well, it's not strictly true that I get nothing in return. Baby gives me the gift of trust, and that is a very precious gift indeed. Sometimes, too, I have seen abused and traumatised people healing and growing through experiences of baby care. Infant regression can be a powerful form of therapy. It is a rewarding experience, to watch a human being healing and growing.
Most of all, however, I like to care for other big babies because it is my way of saying "Thank you" for all the loving care I have received, as a baby, from my own loving Nanny and Daddy. By accepting me when I was wet and dirty, by nurturing me, by showing me unconditional love, they helped me to leave behind the shame and the guilt and the fear I had taken on board when I was a little boy the first time , through shame-based potty training.
So in these quite times, while Baby sleeps, I thank God for Margaret and Graham, my Nanny and my Daddy, and I feel privileged that I am able to pass on to others some of the love and acceptance I have received from them.
(By Baby/Daddy Johnnie.)