Thinking Out Quietly: Ed Sheeran and Cherry Seaborn Have A Beautiful Baby Girl.
Ed Sheeran and Cherry Seaborn have had a baby girl and given her the rather beautiful name of Lyra Antartica Seaborn Sheeran.
(I assume Ed’s Yorkshire birthplace played a part when thinking of the acronym their girl’s names would create. Very fitting for a girl bairn, tha’ knaws.)
Instagramming as a proud Daddy, Ed shared a picture with a pair of blue baby socks on a knitted blanket.
Given Lyra was born a week ago, I very much doubt Ed and Cherry still have both those socks. Baby socks rarely stay on baby feet in pairs. Once separated one shall vanish forever, never to be seen again. The remaining sock will then multiply and turn up seemingly everywhere, both inside and outside the house.
They’ll be one inside a guitar somewhere in their house, I bet you.
With Lyra being a week old, I dare say Cherry and Ed will have already had more than their fair share of advice.
And, as the Dad of a 5-month-old born a week before the start of lockdown, I am going to chuck in my very basic knowledge, to the titles of Ed Sheeran songs, predictably.
Possibly the most uttered to sentence in the life of a new parent is, “Ooh, mind the head.” People say it loads, presumably worried that when you change the baby’s position, you’re going to remould the baby’s head shape. Like Morph.
Funnily enough the one thing you are most definitely doing when you have a brand-new baby is minding it’s head, as well as ALL OF THE BABY!
Our son Alfie was delivered ventouse by a Baby Doctor. (She honestly introduced herself as “I’m the baby doctor,” as if she were in a badly researched sitcom). Ventouse – as I only found out during the process – is where a suction cup is attached to the baby’s head in the birth canal and then the child is heaved out. By. The. Head.
It’s like a tug of war but instead of a team of village rugby players, there’s just a little baby at the other end. Thankfully.
Similarly, my daughter just flopped out onto the bed as the midwife watched on.
Both children’s heads and bodies are well, and Ed’s Instagram post said their daughter is “healthy and beautiful”.
This present moment in world history is a very odd time to have a baby.
In normal circumstances I think it’s a lovely thing to have people want to come and admire your child. All babies are coo-able to strangers in the otherwise socially distanced queue at Superdrug.
The thing is it’s very hard to convey a message of “thank-you-but-please-keep-away-because-I-heard-you-coughing-coming-out-of-Greggs-and-your-mask-is-under-your-nose” without feeling terribly ungrateful.
The Seaborn-Sheerans probably won’t face that problem. After all we’re pretty much out of lockdown.
That and I am sure they have people who can go to Superdrug for them.
Of course, we all want the Pinterest-able nursery, the pristine corner of the front room where toys magic themselves away and baby clothes get folded at the snap of a finger should Hello! suddenly turn up for a photoshoot. Baby comes home and there’s a place for everything, light gleaming in from a satin curtain window as the breeze carries her giggles sweetly throughout the house, her nappies never even as much as mentioned in close proximity to the cream carpet.
Give it a week. Discarded baby bottles, packs of half-opened wipes underneath cushions so that when you sit down it looks like you’ve wet yourself, baby outfits which could be clean or may not be, and not one item of clothing that isn’t milk-stained. Second-hand milk at that.
Oh, and socks. Just one of each pair. Everywhere. Continuously.