Hi Bean!
It's your Daddy. You may remember me as the guy who was all dressed up in goofy clothes and came over to meet you when the doctors came to take you out of Mommy:
I don't always dress like that, but the doctors made me do it. Of course, it was for a good reason - so I didn't get you sick! You should probably get used to being dressed up in clothes you don't necessarily approve of either. Also for a good reason: "because we said so". That's one you're going to hear a lot; might as well start you early. It's fun being a despot. A close runner-up is "it's for your own good". Which it is - you have the built-in bonus of being cute as a button, but with the extra added super power of adorable clothing, well, there won't be much they won't let you get away with.
Here's your first encounter with Mommy. Well, on the outside, anyway. You did the same thing to me after they brought you into the recovery room - they had you in this plastic incubator thing and were measuring you, so all I thought I could do was pull out the camera and take some pictures. But then the nurse gave you a vitamin K shot (another thing you're going to have to get used to; sorry) and you didn't much care for it. You started to cry, and she told me "You can put your hand in and comfort her if you want." I flipped the lid up, put my hand near you, and your little fingers - still white from the delivery, and with the most delicate and elegant little fingernails, you grabbed my finger. And that pretty much did it.
In the delivery room, I was nervous that someone would touch you and you'd just pop and disappear like a bubble, and I was so discombobulated by everything that I actually missed your umbilical cord with the surgical scissors for the first time (I'm sure there's a justification for the 30-degree angle at the end; I just hope making me even more nervous about the whole process isn't one of them). And you were so little and brave and squinty and POLITE the whole time - a few healthy squawks, but mostly some inquisitive head movements and a little bit of flailing - that when your brow furrowed up and you squirmed around and cried, suddenly it was real; you were a person, you could feel pain. Then you grabbed my finger and I realized you could feel comfort too. And that's when I told you that I'd be one of the two people that would best know how to comfort you for as long as you'd let me. That it was you and me and Mommy and nothing else mattered.
About four hours later, the nurses had taken you to the nursery, checked you out some more, given you a thorough cleaning, and brought you back to us in a little rolling crib, all clean and sweet. You were swaddled up in a blanket and still getting used to everything around you, but you still managed to wave to us. We have since figured out that you're quite the little Houdini. No matter how tightly we wrap you up in a little burrito of a package, you find a way to get your arms free. Even if the nurses do it. So well done, kiddo - at five hours of age, you're already outwitting nurses with dozens of years of experience. My smart little girl.
And my tiny little girl. Tiny and perfect. Tiny feet and toes (sorry about the bandage, they needed to check your blood), tiny hands, tiny belly. I actually got to visit you in the nursery before they brought you into our first maternity room, and you were lying in the heating bed, taking some rays (you were slightly jaundiced, so they gave you a bit of light therapy). Your skin and chest were so delicate that I could actually see your heart beating - the skin bumped up and down with each little beat. The onesie you're wearing now may say "my heart belongs to Mommy", but believe me, it's definitely a sharing relationship.
And lo, the sun didst shine down upon her...this is you in the lap of your older uncle. He held you, the sun came out, and you got some natural light. Definitely a good look for you, kiddo. Too bad it's winter and we're not allowed to take you out yet - we plan on taking you lots of places and exposing you to all kinds of things.
But for now we get to just be at home and be a family together. It's hard to believe that your Mommy and me made something so small and perfect. And the parental instinct has slammed into high gear something fierce - we barely put you down the first day or two you were here, and once we did, we spent an hour lying next to each other, not even daring to breathe for fear we'd miss a gurgle, grunt, breath or twitch from the little crib at the end of our bed. We finally drifted off, only to spasm awake again when you made the first noise louder than a contented sigh - what was that? Was that normal?! They never told us about that noise! You gave us such a little scare that night - all you were trying to tell us was that you were hungry, but between the jagged crying, the panting and the grunting, we had ourselves a full-on freak-out session and ended up at the ER at 2:30 that morning. A wonderful nurse managed to calm us down and figure out that you just needed a bit more food, and we were home again three hours later.
And now it's one week later and we've had a full seven days to get to know you better. I've held you just as much as your Mommy and your Lola have this past week. My boss was nice enough to give me all this time to be with you, which is important not just for you, but for me. I've changed just about every diaper, had you draped over my shoulder in the rocking chair in your nursery, and had you try to nurse from me (see above - sorry, but I'm not authorized to serve milk to minors). The whole fatherly concern thing is still in the very forefront of my mind, though - last night I woke myself up because I had a whistly nose and I thought it was you crying from the nursery, three rooms away. Of course, you were in there with your Mommy and nothing was happening to you, but if it's possible, it's relieving for me to be so on edge - because it tells me that I'm really becoming a Daddy. And although it's only been seven days, I already can't imagine life without you. I'm always going to be here, and I can't wait to enjoy as much time as I'm given on this Earth with you.
Love,
Daddy
