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Crazy, Life-Changing Thing

03.05.2011

Dear Dwarfling,

As of this moment you are about two and a half weeks old.  I’m pretty sure that you can’t read yet, so I’m writing this for my own benefit.  You see, your birth has been an incredible experience for me.  You’ve changed me as much as I have changed you (a frequent occurrence; we’re going to have to discuss your diaper bill once you grow up and get a job).  At some point in the future you might read this and think that your dad is an incredible dork, but I’m going through a crazy, life-changing thing here, so cut me a little slack.

Baby feet are weirdly fascinating.

Before you came along, little Dwarfling, I was not a ‘baby guy’.  I don’t think I had ever held a newborn child in my arms, even though I have had plenty of opportunities with the various nieces and nephews and babies of friends.  I still don’t think that I am a ‘baby guy’, but I find you completely fascinating.  I love holding you, and when you look up at me with your incredibly dark brown eyes I melt like some kind of gooey cheese on a hot piece of toast.  Everyone told me to expect it, but I was still completely surprised by how instant the love was.

You are gorgeous.  I look at you and I don’t see an inconceivably tiny version of Winston Churchill like I do with most babies, but I see a beautiful little person; full of intelligence and profound thoughts.  I can’t wait until you can tell me what you’re thinking about when you look at me in that certain way that you have.  I know that you know who I am; it’s absolutely amazing how you respond to my voice.  I’m certain that when you’re a teenager you’ll find the songs that I sing to put you to sleep tremendously embarrassing.  Your mother calls them Old Sad Bastard songs, and they put you to sleep faster than a narcoleptic in an 18th century French Literature lecture.  I guess all that time I spent talking to your mother’s ample, pregnant belly paid off.  It’s just too bad that I’m not a better singer; so if you grow up to be tone-deaf, I’m sorry.

You’re getting fed right now.  Your mother just squirted you in the face while trying to breastfeed.  I’ll save the details of that story for your wedding day.

I’m fantastically proud of you, and I’m ecstatic to be your daddy.  I already know that you’re going to be a daddy’s girl.  You already have me wrapped around your tiny, perfect little fingers.  I promise that I will do whatever I can to make sure that you have everything you need.  This is a whole, new concept for me:  To think that I am completely responsible for a human life is gobsmacking.  I’ve always had the luxury to be selfish.  I’ve really only ever had to ensure that I was making decisions that would benefit my own life until now.  With your arrival I finally understand about truly placing someone ahead of my own, selfish wants.  I finally understand why a parent will sacrifice everything that they have in order to make their child’s life a little bit better.

It’s called Love.  I love you, little dwarfling, since the first moment that I saw you.

Love,

daddy.

4 comments

  1. Aww, Fannon, you made me smile, cry, laugh, and cry again. That was sweet. I hope you bought her a Warcraft outfit, or 30 :)


  2. I may have cavities from the sweetness of this post. I’ll be sending you my dental bill ;P


  3. I wasn’t a “baby guy” until we had our son. I never liked holding any babies out of fear that I’d break them. Yet, the instant that my son was in my arms… I was an instant Dad. I love every single second of it – best job in the world. :D


  4. so sweet.



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