I will begin at the beginning. I write this letter on a Thursday evening a day before your birthday. It is a Thursday evening that you were born, and it was around this time of 7 pm. It is both a measure of being more relaxed at a second child being born and also having to care for your older brother that I arrived to see your birth just in the nick of time. No two births are the same, and yours was proof of that. No Cesarean, no long wait after labor had been induced, not even enough time for the epidural to kick in on your mother. I arrived at the hospital and navigated it’s labyrinthine halls to get to the delivery ward, still wondering whether I should have stopped to get that coffee first, figuring it would be a long night. I waited for a nurse for a few minutes at the nursing station to find out what room your mother was in. When one finally came she informed me that she was pretty sure my wife was in labor and making a few screams and that I better get down there right away. I did a somewhat unimpressive jog to the room. When I opened the door…well it’s hard to describe. It was a sea of pure femininity. Numerous nurses stood at the periphery, a doctor stood like a catcher in baseball staring down the birth canal, one nurse on either side holding your mothers legs. She was screaming in pain, trying to push you out. I stood there somewhat stunned. Quite sure that I was minorly responsible for the present scene due to some past action of mine, but had done little since to earn a place there. Your mother, was apparently too occupied to notice me, but I assure you I took no offense. A nurse near the door deftly assumed I was the father and led me through the war zone over to your mother. Some sort of bloody liquid spurted out of your mother against the doctor’s scrubs. A nurse stood aside and helped me get a hold of her leg (your mother…not the nurse). It was at this moment your mother was aware that I was there. She gave me a glorious smile and all of a sudden she made me feel like I belonged. She is good at that. After 3 pushes you came into this world. I clapped off the dust from my hands, wiped my brow and congratulated myself on a job well done. Really though your mother was just amazing. It was beautiful to see, and despite the fact that I saw one life form exit out of another, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. At the end of it all was you, to hold and love.
For 4 years we had only your brother to love, and the love seemed so overwhelming that I actually wondered if I could feel that kind of love for two children. It sounds like a silly thing to wonder, but I was worried that it wouldn’t feel the same, that I wouldn’t feel as connected, or that my love wouldn’t grow each day in the same way it did with Dhyan. You’ll be pleased to know that my worries were unfounded. It is different, because, well, you’re different, but it’s still intense and it’s still wonderful. I’ll admit that I don’t get the same thrill in watching your firsts as I did with your brother. There was certainly a sense of wonder watching a baby grow from birth, and that fascination isn’t quite the same with you. There was something more academic about it all with your brother, which for me is a thrilling experience, but it somehow all feels more personal with you. You are a wonder in of itself, because I can tell you look like me in features, but you are this light brown hair and blue eyed version of me which just amazes me. It’s like watching myself with a blue twinkle in my eye. It’s surreal. And I also realized a few months ago that really the biggest part of the sense of wonder I felt with your brother is that I was able to watch him unfold with no basis for comparison. With you there is. It’s so easy to compare you to your brother at a particular age, but I realize that’s unfair in many ways. I vowed on that day to just let you unfold as you are. No comparisons necessary. I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job and I hope I can keep it up. You deserve the freedom to be who you are without the context of your brother. I don’t need you to be more or less like your brother. I just need you to be you.
I want you to know that I feel a draw to you that I can’t put my finger on. I do feel there is more of me in you somehow. We’ll see how time bears this out. You have this infectious smile and laugh, and a laid back, easy way about you. You crawl to me when I come home, even when you mother is home and that’s a pleasant surprise, because your brother was always for mommy only as a baby. 🙂 I feel so close to you already, and your personality is only beginning to show. I am so anxious to meet you, I just can’t wait to see what surprises you have in store.
My favorite memory of you in this first year, is how attached you are to certain music videos. You seem fascinated by them, sometimes smiling, but always engaged. I have such fond memories of you sitting on my lap, sometimes erect and alert and sometimes laid back and cuddly. You have your favorites and playing a different video from the 13 or so songs you like, usually gets you fidgety and unhappy, but play one you like and you’re quiet as a mouse, content. I love just having you in my arms while we watch music videos.
You also are fascinated with looking up. When you were a few months old you were very fascinated looking up at the leaves in the tree. Now it’s lights, fans, ceilings. You have this gaze upward that fills your face with fascination, excitement, and wonder. You love when I spin around holding you in my arms, you look up watching the world spin with you. I love watching that smile on your face. I don’t need you to be a meteorologist like me, but I do hope you always like to look up in wonder.
I also am more starkly aware of how long each phase lasts having had your brother and in that way I have come to appreciate each moment more with you. And since I don’t plan to have any other children, I know these moments won’t come again. Whether it’s cradling you in my arms, singing you to sleep, or comforting you through the pain of teething, it all feels like something more to savor. You have just started to walk these last few weeks. The joy on your face and the sounds you make while doing it just delights me to no end. Soon that too will pass and you’ll just be walking as if that’s what you always did. I know from experience that when I sit down and write this letter next year you will be so much more than you are now. I can’t wait for you to unfold this next year. I can’t wait for the bloom of spring and the warmth of summer. I know you are going to love it! Thank you for being more than I could have hoped for and filling a heart to heights of love I never knew it could reach. Happy Birthday!