Àlex Bosch: "My son survived starting at 640 grams"
Journalist, writer, and father of Laia and Roger, 18 and 13 years old. He works at Catalunya Ràdio, where he specialized in economic news, although he is currently the newsroom coordinator during the early morning hours. He has published 'Las cosas que te hubiera querido decir' (La Campana), which vividly portrays a generation that, despite having started having children, continues to live full of doubts. He is also the author of 'Prematur. 82 días entre la oscuridad y la esperanza' (Angle).
BarcelonaYou truly become an adult when your first child is born. But I've discovered there's another boundary you cross, when your children no longer need you as much. Then you become a kind of supervisor or firefighter, someone they call on in an emergency. I'm realizing now that my daughter is almost nineteen and already in university, and my youngest son is almost fourteen and practically halfway through secondary school.
How did you experience that moment when you became an adult?
— With great excitement, a touch of anticipation, and a touch of fear, Laia was born vaginally. It was an idyllic, natural birth, without a stitch. I was like parents who are present at the birth usually are: trying not to disturb anyone and overwhelmed with emotion. The image of my newborn daughter will always be with me.
The birth of the second child was the complete opposite.
— With Roger, everything is always different. It's as if he's already done the most spectacular thing in his life: surviving starting at 640 grams.
You narrate it in Premature. You say that was a "time of pause".
— I always say I suffer from Stockholm syndrome regarding those months. At the time, I experienced it with tremendous anguish. Like being kidnapped. My life was frozen next to his incubator. There was no future while we were there, only the present and many doubts. Now Roger is a child, if you'll allow me to say so, a normal one, like any other his age. The dark memory of those days has gradually transformed into an increasingly positive one. It was horrible, but we overcame it. He pulled through. He's doing well.
Responsibility weighs heavily.
— When you're not a parent, everything is simpler, even if you don't realize it. Decision-making isn't constrained. You're the only factor in the problem. When there's a child involved, there are three factors: you, your partner, and the child. What you think about raising your child, for example, has to align with what your partner thinks, or one of you has to compromise. I think having a child also changes your value system.
You learn to doubt in a different way.
— The doubts I had before having children now seem trivial: who I'll be with, whether I'll have children, where I'll live, how I'll make a living... You can allow yourself to doubt. But when you have children, you realize you can't be foolish anymore, that someone depends on you, on you keeping your wits about you. As the Friends of the Arts say in a song, "We don't improvise, we don't take a single false step, we don't risk anything, we plan, the Glasgow train robbery was child's play."
And now the children are starting to grow up?
— I've had a bit of an empty nest feeling, even though they're still there, and now I'm becoming more and more free again and I have to rediscover myself, fill the time they've freed up. When children grow up, you have more fears than doubts. You have to learn that they're on their own, and that's always a little scary. My main wish is: I hope they succeed in life.
How do you help your children decide what they want to be?
— The truth is, Laia is making it very easy for us. She's started university and she's happy and active. She's studying at the Autonomous University, just like I did. Although she's not studying the same thing I did, I feel like I'm reliving my university days. I enjoy advising her, listening to her, and watching her adult personality develop. Roger has a special light about him. He's kind. He seems mature and aware. We're guiding him, but I think he'll also be able to find his own way.
Tell me about a moment that illustrates how they grow older.
— This summer, Laia, who had just turned 18, traveled abroad alone for the first time, to a small town about 60 kilometers from Manchester. She had to leave home, go to the airport, go through security, fly, arrive in Manchester, and then take a train. She was terrified. Her mother and I acted like it was nothing. When she was on the jetway, about to board the plane, she sent us a photo and wrote: "You thought I wouldn't make it, huh?" Her mother and I replied: "We knew you would," and added laughing emojis.