Saturday, May 8, 2010

2nd Letter to Baby

Dear Baby:

7 weeks ago you got squeezed out like a soybean in an edamame pod. You were so tiny as you would curl up on my forearm. I could barely hold you with two arms because my massive biceps would engulf your tiny little body. You didn't cry much. You were too busy checking out the world in front of you, despite your limited vision. And then you would sleep. And sleep. We didn't know how you would change our lives. We didn't realize that every little thing you would do would be a milestone to us. Like the day you yawned. Or sneezed. The day we left the hospital, we had no idea how to use the car seat. We never practiced buckling it up. We just assumed it was a simple click and snap contraption. You cried and cried as we frantically both tried to figure out how to buckle you in.

I guess I didn't realize how much my life would change. Especially for something that can't even talk and craps on itself. It seems like every time I pick you up you have gotten bigger but everyone else in the world likes to say how tiny you are.

Sometimes I worry how good of a father I will be. I am afraid that I might expect too much from you. Or I might be too impatient. Or too strict. Or too lenient. I don't know how I will react when you get hurt for the first time. Or how I will feel when I can't make the pain immediately go away. As much as I want you to be the perfect child, I want myself to be the perfect father. I want to always be there and know exactly what is going on. I worry that you'll see me as the enemy and keep secrets because you're afraid of how I will react. I want you to trust me when I say stuff like "it's for the best" but I need you to learn things on your own. I worry that I am going to miss important things in your life for reasons unknown. I worry that I may not always be there. I worry that I can't always hold your hand. I worry that you won't accept my friendship on Facebook.

But there really isn't any point in worrying now. You're still too young to talk back and I am going to enjoy it while it lasts.




  1. Thanks for my third prego cry episode. This is so sweet, and hits home as I feel like I've had the same thoughts run through my head lately. This baby makes me such a mush.