Just after the first hour of the 18th you came into my life
and changed how the light felt in the beginning and day end,
your face soft and not yet stained - little fingers hanging onto
one of mine; cliches of my everything becoming changed at first breaths.
I'm not certain if I'm a good father - your infantile screams causing
unknown anxieties to break down what palisades I made. If someone
saw where I was or what I did or didn't do in those first months of
changings and feedings and growings - I'm certain that I wouldn't
even receive a participation fatherhood ribbon. Your mother was
father while I made excuses to be at work - "someone has to
pay the bills...keep the roof over your head...make sure the
heat stays on...;" I was / am / will be scared over and over again.
I am getting better, I think...I hide the jealousy of the smile to your
mother, hide the anxieties when I try to change & feed you, try to
be there in the background when you & your Mom learn & grow just to
hope you'll look over your shoulder and grin or burble or babble
when you see me.
We try and do our best to take as many photos & memories,
again and again, so you can see how loved you are by
family & those we call friends...to look back and see
all the love that we intend, to celebrate you everyday,
the amalgamation of your mother & small-absences father...
How do I tell my one year old daughter I never intended to
make it this far - wasn't supposed to live past 23,
had no plans to fall in love, no thoughts of
weddings & new apartments and houses & positive tests leading to
showers & eventually to you laying skin to skin on
my chest while the glacial realization that my old
life did end - only for my life to begin again...
I don't know where I'm going with this, my little Stinkbug,
just know I wake up everyday deciding to begin again,
hoping that I can and will make up the small absences to
you - that to see you happy & healthy & in-love is all I intend...
-Dad
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