He feels so small in your hands as you hold him, your son, your first-born son and child.

You sit by her bed, watching her as she sleeps, your creation in your arms. He looks like her, her nose and eyes, but he has your hair, traditional red hair and you have never seen a more handsome baby.

In you arms he stirs, raising his tiny little arms towards you, one of his small hands grasping your finger, causing you to grin at the boy.

"Hello. Look at you, you're already bigger than you were yesterday and you look like your mother. That's her lying there asleep, so we have to be quiet." Your grin gets wider as your son continues to stare up at you, before opening his small mouth to yawn. You can't help but laugh quietly.

"You're tired? You've slept for hours already and you're only a few hours old. You greedy little boy. Your mummy has more reason to be tired, so shhh." The boy laughs slightly, more like a gurgle than a laugh, but to you, it is the sweetest sound you've heard in a long time.

"He looks like you." You look around, to see her smiling at you, a sleepy smile but a smile none the less.

"Hey sweet heart look Lyall, mummy's up." She grins, sitting up a bit more, leaning against her pillows.

"Lyall? What kind of a name is Lyall?" You laugh.

"Well, he likes it." You both looked down at your son. He's fallen asleep again, a slight smile touching his tiny lips, his hair turning bright red. She laughs softly, taking her son from you, allowing you to sit beside her on the bed, the baby nestle between the two of you, so you can put your arm around both of them.

"Lyall it is." You smile, gently kissing her hair, thankful for your family.