I listen to her, watch her, read her. She tells me everything I need to know and everything she needs.

It's like charades. I'm determined to not get frustrated and give up on this game my baby is playing with me. I've seen too many parents raise disconnected human beings and with all might, I will do all I can to create a journey of connection with this little human. Connection that's fought for, worked for, from both sides. Then achieved. I've surrendered to our game. Given myself to the fact that we'll be playing until she learns to speak words.

I'll laugh, I'll cry, I'll be in awe. I'll learn about her as I learn about myself. I'll stay willing to connect and tell my child that my love is unwavering and I will stay patient. Even when I'm frustrated, I commit to surrendering... To listen.

Sometimes I get it wrong. I'd say most of the time I get it right. I'm patient with myself. I like to imagine she's patient with me too. I tune into the different sounds she makes, the different facial expressions and physical movements. Line them up with different occasions, like, has she just eaten? Did she just wake up? Has she pooped? I watch it all and do my best to de-code and decipher the messages. We're over three weeks in and I've learned a few listening lessons.

Like when she pooped on me for the third time. About a week and a half ago. Early morning and I agreed to change her nappy. I nonchalantly stood at the edge of the bed, her baby bum faced me and she looked at the ceiling, grunting. I thought that she just didn't like me taking off her nappy, wiping her, cleaning her and readying her for a fresh change. I didn't know her grunts were communicating more. That she was moving through something inside. Processing. I turned to reach for a new nappy, her grunts building all the while. Clean nappy in hand, I lifted her legs to place it under her and a projectile spray of yellow baby poop graced my gym clothes. Lesson number one: Listen to the tone of the baby grunt.

When she pees she's fairly calm. In fact, so calm you wouldn't know anything was up. I imagine for her, it's quite meditative. A release of ease. Once again, I was changing her nappy. Took off the first one, wet and soiled. Watched her go into this relaxed state and before I even reached for the clean nappy, projectile pee flew into the air and (luckily) landed on the towel and not me this time. Lesson number two: If she's calm, let her kick about on the change mat moments longer, she may have more to release before I put the new nappy on.

I think she laughs at me sometimes. Stays patient with me as I learn her language and keep playing the game with her. It's fun. Except when she's hungry. Then I can definitely see her frustration. How dare I hold up her sacred feeding time. Our baby eats a lot. I mean, I haven't googled how much a baby should be eating at three weeks but for somebody who's supposed to have a stomach the size of an egg, she finishes a cup of milk in a gulp. Because of this, her discomfort and need to be burped requires more attention. Three weeks ago, one small burp was enough. Now, an average of three baby belches is necessary. If we don't get them out, she'll be cranky and in need of pacification until she sleeps. I pat her for longer. Rub and burp her until those three belches come. She lets me know that she's uncomfortable. She kicks about, squishes her face into "Daddy I'm not happy" faces, and puts everything in her mouth with no desire to drink. I used to check her nappy, rock her, try to feed her more from the bottle or distract her with a walk. Now though I've learned the way she speaks well enough to have locked in lesson number three: If changing things on the outside doesn't work, her issue is on the inside.

As the days go by I ready myself for lesson number four... and five, six, 7,8. Like dance steps. I guess it is... A dancing game of charades.