Letter to Harry from Daddy (Month Two)
Dear Harry,
I know it sounds cliche, but it seems like just yesterday that I wrote you a letter on your one-month birthday. In fact, let's just stipulate that that first letter will feel like just yesterday for the rest of my life. Adulthood brings, besides bad digestion and an appreciation for classical music, a new perspective on time. I don't expect you'll understand until you're writing a letter to your two-month old.
Your second month brought reward to your weary parents. Just when it felt like you were the family's equivelant of the nation's obsession with automobiles -- draining a finite, but difficult to quantify source of fuel -- you suddenly gave back. You went from being a demanding paperweight to something much closer to a member of the family. This brings us to today's word: Smile.
Yep. You lit up, a big, bright, cheery grin. Your timing was impeccable, because I believe your mother was just about to throw you out the window. The smile brought with it an assortment of other joys, seemingly smaller, but equally important. You and your mom figured out the breast-feeding issues, and now you latch on with almost no discomfort. You started gaining weight at a reasonable rate. Though you're still in the 10th percentile, you are headed in the right direction. As your grandfather said, "Three ounces in one day? I can do that in the space of two bites at dinner!" Whatever trouble you might have had gaining weight in the beginning, your genetics suggest that this problem will not last.
There are some other happy changes you should know about as well. I'm starting a new job in a couple weeks, one that will allow me to spend more time with you at home. If it were only a foggy thought in your first month, your second month brought it into intense focus. You and your mom are my highest priority, and I will do anything to spend more time with you. My new job lets me work out of the house, which means I don't have to waste two hours a day commuting, and I can try to get my work done early in the day, giving me the afternoon to spend with you. Not every daddy is so lucky that he can work this way, so I'm grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with you.
This month wasn't all happy, though. Your grandmother went back to South Africa, after being with us from day one. You remember her: she looks a lot like your mummy and sang to you and rubbed your forehead to help you sleep. G-mummy going home was very sad for your mummy and me because we love having her near, and made us think about all the family that isn't closer than a phone call.
It also made us think about Ma, your mummy's grandmother. Ma died just before you were born. With your arrival and so much of our family in town (including Pa, mummy's grandfather) it was easy to put our sadness aside, but that became increasingly difficult in your second month when we found ourselves on our own. Ma was a source of inspiration for your mummy, who looked to Ma for support and confidence when little was to be found elsewhere.
I've been thinking a lot about Ma because I'm thinking about what makes us so sad about her not being here. What I realized is that what makes me the most sad is that you won't get to meet her. You won't get to experience her generosity, her lively sense of humor, and her enthusiasm for the wildlife of Africa. She had a musical laugh, an intense love for her family, and a curiosity that lasted until the very end. In this month, when you suddenly responded to us, you gave us more than a facial expression. I felt Ma's presence again, when I saw her in your smile.
And that's the word.
Always remember, your daddy loves you.
I know it sounds cliche, but it seems like just yesterday that I wrote you a letter on your one-month birthday. In fact, let's just stipulate that that first letter will feel like just yesterday for the rest of my life. Adulthood brings, besides bad digestion and an appreciation for classical music, a new perspective on time. I don't expect you'll understand until you're writing a letter to your two-month old.
Your second month brought reward to your weary parents. Just when it felt like you were the family's equivelant of the nation's obsession with automobiles -- draining a finite, but difficult to quantify source of fuel -- you suddenly gave back. You went from being a demanding paperweight to something much closer to a member of the family. This brings us to today's word: Smile.
Yep. You lit up, a big, bright, cheery grin. Your timing was impeccable, because I believe your mother was just about to throw you out the window. The smile brought with it an assortment of other joys, seemingly smaller, but equally important. You and your mom figured out the breast-feeding issues, and now you latch on with almost no discomfort. You started gaining weight at a reasonable rate. Though you're still in the 10th percentile, you are headed in the right direction. As your grandfather said, "Three ounces in one day? I can do that in the space of two bites at dinner!" Whatever trouble you might have had gaining weight in the beginning, your genetics suggest that this problem will not last.
There are some other happy changes you should know about as well. I'm starting a new job in a couple weeks, one that will allow me to spend more time with you at home. If it were only a foggy thought in your first month, your second month brought it into intense focus. You and your mom are my highest priority, and I will do anything to spend more time with you. My new job lets me work out of the house, which means I don't have to waste two hours a day commuting, and I can try to get my work done early in the day, giving me the afternoon to spend with you. Not every daddy is so lucky that he can work this way, so I'm grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with you.
This month wasn't all happy, though. Your grandmother went back to South Africa, after being with us from day one. You remember her: she looks a lot like your mummy and sang to you and rubbed your forehead to help you sleep. G-mummy going home was very sad for your mummy and me because we love having her near, and made us think about all the family that isn't closer than a phone call.
It also made us think about Ma, your mummy's grandmother. Ma died just before you were born. With your arrival and so much of our family in town (including Pa, mummy's grandfather) it was easy to put our sadness aside, but that became increasingly difficult in your second month when we found ourselves on our own. Ma was a source of inspiration for your mummy, who looked to Ma for support and confidence when little was to be found elsewhere.
I've been thinking a lot about Ma because I'm thinking about what makes us so sad about her not being here. What I realized is that what makes me the most sad is that you won't get to meet her. You won't get to experience her generosity, her lively sense of humor, and her enthusiasm for the wildlife of Africa. She had a musical laugh, an intense love for her family, and a curiosity that lasted until the very end. In this month, when you suddenly responded to us, you gave us more than a facial expression. I felt Ma's presence again, when I saw her in your smile.
And that's the word.
Always remember, your daddy loves you.


