…I held you for the very first time. Four years ago today, at 5:20pm, my life changed forever in ways I couldn’t have imagined beforehand. Well, more likely at about 10:30am when your mommy first called me at work letting me know that “uh, hey, it’s time”. A fist-bump from your Uncle B, and we were on our way. As per usual, I was pretty useless most of the time; I even was the one who passed out when they were inserting the epidural — they had to bring me back with smelling salts before I collapsed into a heap. But they yanked you out by your little melon and put you on the warming table to give you a once over. You cried and cried and kept turning your head away from the light.
For some odd reason I put my hands up to shade your eyes, and you stopped crying and looked at me as if to say “Thanks, Dad.” That was our first bonding moment, first of many. Naturally, like any good father who has no idea what the heck he’s doing, I watched what your mom was doing for a few weeks before I did anything. Sure I might’ve handed off a diaper or two, or held you while your mom made formula, but I was so afraid to make a mistake with you that I held back to make sure I was doing things right. I’m still growing into the role, and learning things from you. I hope that we have many more years together to bond. More nights where you can’t sleep right unless I’m next to you. More days where you grab a coat and march me to the door because you want to go for a walk. More evenings where you wait (im)patiently for me to make your favorite dinner. More nights where you pick out a book and let me read three pages to you before you get bored and grab another book. And then another. And then the whole shelf is empty.