In the hands of a pro

Ball’s aunt lifted up his baby daughter and inspected her rear end.

‘The poor thing has a chafed bottom. This is why she cries so much,’ she pronounced.

Eed applied a blue potion which is supposed to cure such things. Within a few moments, the baby had stopped her crying, and fallen asleep in Eed’s arms.

Aunty Eed, elder sister to Ball’s mother, was visiting from her place in Onnut, at least an hour away by car.

Eed has little to her name – she regularly takes back empty beer bottles from Ball’s home for recycling – but on each visit since the birth of Ball’s child, has managed to bring small items to help.

Last night she brought a largish plastic bag of clothes and towels.

Ball’s mum shouts her elder sister a few bottles of beer. In the early hours of the next morning, Eed heads home by public bus.

I enjoy Eed’s visits. I make sure I give her a wai when I see her, as she is one of the few visitors to Ball’s slum home whom I respect.

Ball and his girlfriend Jay, as new parents, are only too aware that they lack experience in raising children.

I think they do a good job, but they can’t help but worry whenever the baby cries.

The baby, who has yet to be named, sleeps during the day, and cries at night.

‘Sometimes I think she wakes at night because she just wants to play. But other times she cries so hard, I wonder what is wrong,’ said Ball.

‘I worry that she has taken too much milk, and has a sore stomach. Or perhaps it’s a build-up of air. I put her on my shoulder and walk around to make her feel better,’ he said.

Ball’s daughter has no eyebrows, but plenty of hair on her head. They have registered her name with the local body office, but have yet to coin for her a nickname.

We toyed with calling her raikew – ‘no eyebrows’, in Thai. Jay coined the nickname ‘omyim,’ or ‘smile’, but Ball decided that wouldn’t do.

‘She spends more time crying than she does smiling,’ he said.

Omyim (as I shall call her here) is a curious girl. ‘All she does is eat,’ said Ball’s mum, who is no less adept at raising children than her elder sister, Eed.

Little daunts this pair of seasoned hands, as both have raised families of their own.

The other night I watched as Ball’s mother bathed the child in a plastic tub.

She dried and powdered Omyim, dressed her, and put her down to sleep, in a painstaking process which takes at least half an hour.

When she cries, we give her a bottle. She draws on it a few times, and falls asleep, almost instantly.

Sometimes, however, the bottle will not do, and we have to put the child on shoulder and take her for a little walk.

When I visited last night, Omyim appeared restless, crying often and failing to find much happiness.

We had noticed that the instant she soils or wets herself, Omyim starts to cry.

This was all the information Aunty Eed needed. She took off the child’s pampers, and inspected her bottom. It was red, and sore.

‘No wonder she cries so much...her backside stings,’ she said.

I don’t blame Ball for failing to notice, and nor do I want him to blame himself.

‘Aunty Eed’s a pro,’ I explained. ‘I hope you feel relief, now that we know,’ I said.

Ball agreed, but looked miserable. When his daughter cries, he wears a stricken look, as if the child’s unhappiness is related to some error on his part.

‘New parents like to chastise themselves over nothing, and worry themselves sick for no reason,’ I told him, hoping to cheer his spirits. ‘You are not alone.’

Ball has changed since his daughter was born.

The main topic of conversation which Ball and Jay are eager to share with visitors – actually, mainly me - is their daughter.

They talk about how she slept (or failed to sleep) the night before, and how they coped. We are still getting to know this little body...her habits, her funny ways.

Omyim’s habit of rising at night has forced her parents to change the way they sleep.

‘We get most of our sleep from about 6am to midday, all three of us sleeping soundly together,’ said Ball.

This doting dad admits that the way he looks at life has changed, now that he is responsible for the life of a child.

'It's hard work being a dad, but I enjoy it,' he said dutifully, when I asked.

What he means is that being a parent has taken over virtually his every waking moment, but he knows it is something he has to do.

Jay is just as attentive. Together they make a great pair, communicating well, and tending minutely to their child's never-ending needs.

If Jay is holding Omyim, but she won’t settle, she will ask Ball to make up another batch of milk, or pour a bottle of water for Omyim.

Last night, when I visited, Ball’s niece had dropped in. The two toddlers, Fresh and Mew, also want attention. In a house full of children, we seldom get any peace.

Ball and Jay divide their time between me, the toddlers, and the demands of their daughter. If they feel the strain, they seldom show it, even in a cramped slum home.

I have spent the past week on leave, which means I have been able to visit the doting parents and baby Omyim every night.

After Ball’s mother complained about the child’s voracious appetite, I gave her some money to buy milk formula, and pampers.

‘Thank you, Mali,’ said Ball, so earnestly that I felt guilty for not offering help earlier.

‘Thank you so much. You have been so good to us.’

I have also given Jay some money so she can visit her aunt outside Bangkok, who is keen to see the child. Most of Jay’s family live in the North, and have yet to meet Omyim.

Ball and Jay have invited me to accompany them on their one-day trip.

We would look odd: teenage parents Ball and Jay, their baby daughter who is not even a month old, and a foreigner old enough to be their uncle– me.

I am actually a few months older than Ball’s mum – mother of four adult children, including Ball - but have no children of my own to show for my time on this earth.

Jay now listens to the stories I tell Ball, and seems happy to see me. However, I don’t like to see Ball or Jay chastising themselves whenever their daughter is unhappy.

But I know that as their friend, I can help them feel better again, so they can fight the parenthood battle another day.