The Special Bond Between Parent and Baby
Without any intention of sounding chauvinistic, this post is directed mainly to the mothers among my readers—especially new mothers. Yes, I’m fully aware that as a single father I’m somewhat overlooking my brothers who share the same fate. But the case I’m about to describe feels like something that would most likely happen to a mother who has just brought a baby into the world and is bound to that child by emotional and psychological ties that are almost impossible to describe.
Still, I may be wrong. It’s entirely possible that other single fathers have experienced something similar.
Since becoming Sara’s single father exactly six months ago, I feel that something unusual has been happening to me—something that is perhaps biological, perhaps psychological. As my bond with Sara grows stronger, I sometimes feel as though we share an almost telepathic connection.
Without her showing any obvious signs, I often know what she needs before she begins demanding it with a burst of crying. Very quickly I learned to recognize different types of cries, subtle changes in her behavior, tiny facial expressions, and small body movements.
I’m aware that this is simply unconscious learning and not some kind of superpower that suddenly appeared when I turned fifty-two. Still, the connection I feel with Sara is something extraordinary—something I didn’t even know existed.
At first I thought this feeling was one-sided, something that existed only on my side. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that Sara seems to experience something similar toward me. Without seeing or hearing me, she somehow knows when I arrive home or walk into the room. She simply senses my presence.
Over the past six months, our connection has only grown stronger. Almost every day we learn to understand each other a little more deeply, discovering that we can communicate without words—and sometimes even without gestures.
Most mothers reading this are probably thinking:
“That’s nice, but there’s nothing unusual about it. Every mother experiences that.”
And I completely understand that.
But the story I’m about to tell touches on something a little different.
Passover Evening, Netflix, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers
As I mentioned in previous posts, because of the war with Iran, Sara and I temporarily moved from our home into my parents’ apartment nearby.
The event I’m about to describe happened on the eve of the final Passover holiday. It was around ten at night.
Sara was fast asleep in the safe room, and I felt it was finally time to close shop and leave the exhausting day behind me.
I coordinated with my mother, who was sitting in the living room enjoying her Netflix series, and told her I was going to my room to relax for a while with my headphones on. My dear mother lowered the volume on the television so she could hear Sara if she woke up.
The safe room door remained open, so if Sara made any sound my mother would certainly hear it and go to her.
I went into my room and closed the door behind me. I turned on Netflix to finally watch the documentary “The Rise of the Red Hot Chili Peppers: Our Brother, Hillel.”
I put on my wireless headphones, connected to the television, turned the volume all the way up, leaned back in bed, and allowed myself to relax with the music I love so much.
I honestly don’t remember the last time I enjoyed something like this during the past six months.
This was probably the only moment since Sara was born when it was just me—Yaniv.
I completely surrendered to the experience and the incredible music.
I felt on top of the world. Connected to myself and to the universe.
The Sigh That Was Almost Impossible to Hear
It happened about halfway through the film.
The Chili Peppers were blasting at full power, their glorious noise pounding through my brain, when suddenly—unexpectedly—I heard a very familiar sound.
A sigh.
Short.
Quiet.
Fragile.
Almost imperceptible—the first tiny signal Sara makes when she begins waking up for food.
Without stopping to think how it was even possible that through the raw volume of the Chili Peppers—loud enough to tear my eardrums apart—I could hear such a faint sound through a closed door, I jumped out of bed.
I opened the door and ran to the nearby safe room before Sara had even opened her eyes.
Sara had already noticed me and greeted me with her natural mischievous smile. I gave her a few moments to fully wake up, then picked her up in my arms and carried her to the living room to feed her before she started crying.
My mother, who had been sitting in the living room the whole time, hadn’t heard Sara’s faint sigh at all.
She was completely surprised when she saw Sara already in my arms. There was simply no way she could have heard that sigh — it was quieter than a leaf falling to the ground.
Trying to Understand What Happened
This was the first time I fed Sara without giving her my full attention.
I was completely captivated by the strange, mysterious moment that had just occurred.
After she finished eating and delivered the necessary burp, I put Sara back in her crib in the safe room and returned to my room.
This time without headphones.
Without Netflix.
And without the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Just me and my restless thoughts, trying to figure out what had happened a few minutes earlier.
After a whole night of thinking about it without finding an answer, I reached the obvious conclusion that it might be better simply to let it go.
There are things in this universe that are bigger than our ability to understand them.
Sometimes it’s better to just flow with life as it is.
But I would be lying if I said that the memory of that almost alien moment hasn’t continued to echo in my mind again and again.
Sara vs. the Chili Peppers
I don’t really know why I got up when I heard Sara beginning to wake. After all, my mother was alert and ready to go to her and feed her, just as we had agreed and as we had done many times before.
I suppose I simply couldn’t ignore it.
It felt almost like I was under a spell.
Sara’s faint sigh seemed directed at me—and only me.
She was calling me.
Summoning me.
As if she somehow knew that even such a tiny whisper would be enough for me to hear it through the enormous noise flooding my ears and my attention.
For me there was no other option but to get up and go to Sara, abandoning the peaceful embrace of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Because when it’s Sara vs. the Chili Peppers—
there can only be one winner.
A Question for Other Parents
And now I’m genuinely curious.
Has any mother reading this experienced something similar?
Sorry—we said no discrimination.
Has any parent experienced something like this?
Follow Sara & Me
If you enjoyed this post, feel free to subscribe by email—so you’ll automatically get a notification whenever a new post goes live.
No spam, no ads—just the posts.
Read Next
If you’d like to read more about Sara and our life together, here are two more posts you might enjoy:
Sara and Me 