Last night our baby slept cradled in her father's arms. I lay on my belly across our big green couch and together we watched another episode of Undercover Billionaire. My phone buzzed and I picked it up. 12:30 the time read. His birthday had arrived.

"Happy Birthday to you..." I gently sang to Mr Dzedze, marking the start of his day. Last year he'd requested that his friends take him on 1:1 dates so that he could connect with each of them in more meaningful ways. This year we've been house-bound with a newborn, and so it was just the three of us here at home.

A few days ago I pestered, "What would you like for your birthday? What would make it special for you?" I wanted with all of me to make sure it was marked and memorable for him, somehow. "I'd like cake and a day off" he responded, meaning a day of no (nappies) baby-duties.

Undercover Billionaire shifted to Game of Thrones and I took that as my cue to scoop up our baby and shuffle to bed with her, leaving Papa to binge-watch series. It's part of what has always kept my husband sane. How he processes life. Acting and movies. If he wants to describe something well, he'll reference a scene or character from a show he's watched. It's how he makes sense of the world and it's his happy place.

Part way through the night our little one awoke, crying. It's unlike her to wail that way and sleep monsters were dragging my eyelids shut. Nyaniso entered the bedroom, triumphantly tucked her into his chest and whisked her away to watch Game of Thrones with him. She fed from the bottle and nodded off happy. As my husband watched his screen through the night, our daughter and I both slept like babies. Me in the double bed alone, her cuddled up to his leg and snug in blankets.

I found him this morning, wide eyed and watching still. As the sun rose high, the blinds came down and he continued to chug through more episodes. Curtains closed, he threw himself and the mac under a big blanket to make a birthday binge-watch Dad den.

I smiled. Sun shone through the windows. I napped another mama-baby nap, fed and changed nappies, sang songs to our wide-eyed girl as we sat together in the rocking chair. Took time to press a painted baby foot on paper as a birthday card. Reminisced on how I was always the birthday-card-maker in my home growing up, how sentiment was at the core of how I was raised to celebrate life. I wrote a letter sharing a new family birthday tradition I have created and picked up the PB-Choc vegan cake I had ordered as it arrived at the door.

I lit candles on the cake and sang Happy Birthday again. Nyaniso sang too. We ate slices of the sugar-mountain and hubby gobbled up more episodes. A dear friend Uncle Hamish arrived to eat cake with us. We all agreed it wasn't time for him to meet his niece just yet, that we'd have to wait for (his fiance) Aunty Jacqlyne to be with us too. Greeting him was warm and we briefly shared how our child's energy can be felt in the home. How it's gentle.

Hamish and Nyaniso flew out through the night to the gym. I chatted with our child, sang more songs, changed another nappy. Caught an episode of Grace & Frankie whilst she floated back into dream-space. I felt how Nyaniso's birthday, for me, marked the start of a new era. One of family sitting at the heart of celebration, and meaningful things feeling magnified, whilst less extravagant too.

I feel a fullness for the future. A satisfied feeling in my belly. That as she grows, so will we. As we meet her, so will we meet ourselves. As we guide her, she'll guide us too - to the essence of what life is about. To love. I finally understand the wonderful fuss my parents always made for birthdays. Insisting on blowing out candles and making wishes, marking moments in memorable ways. Truly, there's nothing more important than the simple acts of saying, "We are here, together. And in any way that makes sense to us, we acknowledge that."