Letter to Harry from Daddy (One Month)
Dear Harry,
I'll try to do a letter like this for each month, capturing my thoughts and feelings as you progress into personhood. Like Stephen Colbert, I'll provide a Word in each letter that more or less defines a theme for the month. This month's word is EFFICIENCY.
You're only one month old, so there's not a whole lot to report on your progress. At this moment, you seem more like a never-ending supply of bodily functions, as if a novelty company created the perfect machine to generate any sound imaginable. It's clear that you have no sense of efficient resource management, seeing as how you're prepared to pee profusely immediately following a diaper change. Diapers don't grow on trees, bub.
We can see the tiny person in there waiting to get out. Every day you hold our gaze or grab a toy a little longer. We'll put you down on the playmay, a quilt decorated with a Noah's Ark scene and criss-crossing poles that suspend brightly-colored toys, and you enjoy a solid 45 minutes entertained. Of course, you're staring at yourself in the build-in mirror, but engaged is engaged regardless of how much it's fueled by vanity.
We're really happy with your pediatrician, who thinks you're a great baby. (Evidently, we're paying the premium rates that buy us unsolicited adulation and kvelling.) Despite a slow start to gaining weight, you are clearly active and happy, and the doctor thinks you're going to be a sweet kid. (Or, perhaps your grandmother calls him daily to remind him.) For me, parenthood has made it clear that while the pediatrician can treat your physical ailments, he has an important job treating mummy and daddy's emotional ones. He's helped us control our worry and provided reassurance where we needed it. He's asked us to build on our strengths and showed us where we can find confidence.
Your favorite thing to do these days is eat. It's clear that you tolerate sleeping as a necessary evil, but really feel it gets in the way of the important things in life. Namely, mummy's boobs. Your mum and I have mixed feelings whenever we see your enthusiastic grimace in the moment before latching on and sucking for dear life. The joy is clearly palpable, and mummy and I are glad you've found something that makes you happy, but wish there were things we could do to make you that happy. On the other hand, when you fall asleep in my arms and we can nap together, you make me that happy, and I really can't ask for much more.
In the last couple days, we've given you a bottle for one or two feedings instead of the boob. This lets mummy rest a bit and is somewhat more efficient in feeding you. I'm telling you this not because I'm judging you or want you to feel guilty, but because I want you to have a clear picture of your first month: when you're on the breast, you're a bit of a lazy sucker. There's a look of profound dispair on your mother's face when you go through a bottle in five minutes after she's spent twenty minutes pumping. Both breasts. In the back of our heads, we know that the same meal would have taken 70-80 minutes if you had been breastfeeding. I don't know about your mum, but I'm going on the assumption that you're a guy who likes to take his time with enjoyable experiences, but recognizes that there's a time and place for efficiency.
And that's the Word.
In the short month I've had to get to know you, I realize that I can barely remember a time in my life before your arrival, and I can't picture any moment of my future without you.
Always remember, your daddy loves you.
I'll try to do a letter like this for each month, capturing my thoughts and feelings as you progress into personhood. Like Stephen Colbert, I'll provide a Word in each letter that more or less defines a theme for the month. This month's word is EFFICIENCY.
You're only one month old, so there's not a whole lot to report on your progress. At this moment, you seem more like a never-ending supply of bodily functions, as if a novelty company created the perfect machine to generate any sound imaginable. It's clear that you have no sense of efficient resource management, seeing as how you're prepared to pee profusely immediately following a diaper change. Diapers don't grow on trees, bub.
We can see the tiny person in there waiting to get out. Every day you hold our gaze or grab a toy a little longer. We'll put you down on the playmay, a quilt decorated with a Noah's Ark scene and criss-crossing poles that suspend brightly-colored toys, and you enjoy a solid 45 minutes entertained. Of course, you're staring at yourself in the build-in mirror, but engaged is engaged regardless of how much it's fueled by vanity.
We're really happy with your pediatrician, who thinks you're a great baby. (Evidently, we're paying the premium rates that buy us unsolicited adulation and kvelling.) Despite a slow start to gaining weight, you are clearly active and happy, and the doctor thinks you're going to be a sweet kid. (Or, perhaps your grandmother calls him daily to remind him.) For me, parenthood has made it clear that while the pediatrician can treat your physical ailments, he has an important job treating mummy and daddy's emotional ones. He's helped us control our worry and provided reassurance where we needed it. He's asked us to build on our strengths and showed us where we can find confidence.
Your favorite thing to do these days is eat. It's clear that you tolerate sleeping as a necessary evil, but really feel it gets in the way of the important things in life. Namely, mummy's boobs. Your mum and I have mixed feelings whenever we see your enthusiastic grimace in the moment before latching on and sucking for dear life. The joy is clearly palpable, and mummy and I are glad you've found something that makes you happy, but wish there were things we could do to make you that happy. On the other hand, when you fall asleep in my arms and we can nap together, you make me that happy, and I really can't ask for much more.
In the last couple days, we've given you a bottle for one or two feedings instead of the boob. This lets mummy rest a bit and is somewhat more efficient in feeding you. I'm telling you this not because I'm judging you or want you to feel guilty, but because I want you to have a clear picture of your first month: when you're on the breast, you're a bit of a lazy sucker. There's a look of profound dispair on your mother's face when you go through a bottle in five minutes after she's spent twenty minutes pumping. Both breasts. In the back of our heads, we know that the same meal would have taken 70-80 minutes if you had been breastfeeding. I don't know about your mum, but I'm going on the assumption that you're a guy who likes to take his time with enjoyable experiences, but recognizes that there's a time and place for efficiency.
And that's the Word.
In the short month I've had to get to know you, I realize that I can barely remember a time in my life before your arrival, and I can't picture any moment of my future without you.
Always remember, your daddy loves you.
posted by dan at 11:43 AM
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