You were born on a Monday morning, November 8th 2010. I am not going to say something that sounds all too common and overdone, such as – the moment I saw you my world changed forever- but I am going to say that the last month of my life has been an entirely new path that has filled me with more joy and purpose than I have ever known.
You have been a part of this world for one month. I thought I may use this occasion to tell you a little about your birth, and how your father felt about it all. First thing to say is that much like your mother you were late, and for once your mother was not happy about someone being late! She drank castor oil, walked stairs at the mall, and even tried acupuncture! If there was a tea that could be drank or an exotic herb to rub into your skin she tried it. Sunday night, five days after her due date, right after I fell asleep she woke me up with “I heard a pop, I think my water just broke”. She labored most of the night at home, got to the hospital at 7:20 am and delivered you at 8:59am. She didn’t use any drugs, and she made it look easy. I am not sure I fully realized how tough your mom was before that day.
There is an energy that fills a labor room, this electric expectation that is flowing through everyone, or at least it was flowing through me. I was so anxious to finally meet you, to see your sweet face and hold you in my arms. I actually got to catch you! You had the cord wrapped around your neck three times, but as soon as it was loose you let out quite a scream. I cried as I stood over you while they cleaned you up, I think I just had to show on the outside what I couldn’t keep inside any longer, the immense love that like you, had been growing for nine months.
We didn’t have a name for you that first day. There were two names we had picked out but we hadn’t decided. In fact, I didn’t decide until late that first night. We had to have you under something called billi lights. You and mom are different blood types and I guess that means you are more prone to jaundice. Well, you didn’t like being under the lights, your eyes covered and not a stitch of clothing except your diaper. You kept waking up and flailing and I felt so bad, but I found if I held your feet that would calm you down, and so you spent your first night on earth with me holding your feet as you slept. That night I felt your name was Cora, I hope you like it.
People will say that fatherhood changes you. I cant say I am changed, I like the same music, activities, food, and most other things I liked before you were born. I would say I am more complete though, and that I am learning about a new kind of love. I think about you all the time, I kiss you all the time, and you are so darn cute I just want to hug you and hug you. One of my favorite things is when you sleep on my chest. I feel your little lungs rising and falling, and I hope you hear my heart beating steadily, I hope you think “this is my daddy and he loves me, this is his heart” and now, it is also yours.
I know you will not be so young forever. To look at you and be reminded that once I was that young baffles me. I feel so old when I look at you, as my parents must have felt when they looked at me. I enjoy each day for what it is, and because it seems like each day you change a little. Someday I will wake up and you will be gone and married and giving me grandkids to spoil, time runs together like that when you look back, unless you put down bookmarks in your memory of your favorite pages. Hopefully this journal will continue to be a place to store those bookmarks for both of us.
Tonight I kissed you and you smiled. You probably didn’t mean too, but it melted my heart. Each night I look at you a hundred times, I wrap my arm around you and breathe deep enough to be comforted by your sweet smell. I love you Cora, I am so honored to be your father.