Today is a day that I look forward to and dread. Writing this entry drains me every year. I honestly don’t know what it’s going to be about until I start. It’s wrenching. The emotions are still raw on some level. Well, I do poke them a bit, kick the nest to see what comes churning up. Really, this is the one moment each year that I set aside for pausing and looking back and looking forward.
Grandpa was 73 when he died of lung cancer and emphysema brought on by a lifetime of heavy smoking. I remember when that seemed really old. My dad’s within 10 years of that, and my mom’s not too far behind it. Both of them are healthier and in better shape than he was, so the prognoses are probably more optimistic. But in the last two years, I’ve seen two high school friends lose their fathers quite suddenly and unexpectedly. And last summer, a cousin and her husband died at 31 from carbon monoxide poisoning. There are no guarantees.
*~*~*
I’ve been writing on this day for most of the 17 years since
Grandpa passed. Each entry is a
snapshot, a moment in time. I think
it’s safe to say that each year has brought a different perspective guided by
another year’s worth of experiences.
It’s also probably safe to say that this past year has changed my
perspective more than any other. I
don’t think the experiences JoAnna and I have had are different from those of other
new parents, but they’re certainly much different from what we had before.
Our son Ben is 7 months old now. He’s healthy and growing well. He’s big for his age, and just got his first tooth the other day. I’m perhaps biased, but he’s the cutest and best baby ever. His smiles go through his whole body and light up every face in the room. It cracks something inside me, like there was a secret stash of Joy in my heart that I didn’t know about until he showed up with the key. So unexpected. So wonderful. So profound.
It’s all moving so fast, but in slow motion. I think it’s the lack of sleep that does
that. So far, I find parenthood to be
incredibly frustrating, but incredibly rewarding. I love the moments in time – the awareness of exactly what is
going on at the present moment, usually accompanied by the sense that I’m where
I’m supposed to be, doing what I’m supposed to be doing.
Eventually, I won’t have to wake up in the middle of the night to calm down a crying baby. There will be a last time when that happens, but I won’t know it at the time. There will also be a last time when Ben nestles into my arms and falls asleep. I won’t know that one, either. Those moments are only clear in hindsight, in memory.
*~*~*
One of the highlights of having a kid is that I get to see my Mom and Dad become Grandma and Grandpa. They’ve been good about visiting as much as they can, though they still say Ben’s growing too fast. It makes me unspeakably happy to see Mom reading book after book to Ben, or hearing Ben shriek as Dad gives him a good raspberry. It’s another one of those lock and key moments.
I can’t help but wonder: what did my parents think when they introduced their parents to me? Did they feel the same warmth that I feel as I watch them with Ben? When they read my annual musings on family and future, are these the memories that come to mind?
*~*~*
Yesterday was my birthday.
It was also Easter Sunday. Thing
is, I’ve had birthdays before. But I’ve
never had a son before, and every occasion with him is new. We dressed Ben in a cute little purple dress
shirt with clip-on tie, vest and dress pants.
I really don’t have the words for how adorable he was. I was far more excited for his day than for
mine.
So far, being a parent is like being an adult, except moreso. It’s much easier and much harder than expected, both in idea and execution. The things that need to be done are basically the same, but the stakes are higher. It’s not about me. I can be lazy for myself. But I don’t want to be lazy for Ben. I want to be Dad, which is a thought hard to conceive and to put down in writing.
Near as I can tell, it’s like baking bread. There’s no secret. There’s just a list of things that needs doing, no way around the
kneading, and the yeast will take just as long as it think it needs. Hopefully, it gets easier with
practice. And I need to find that list…
And by the time Ben is old enough to know that I’m Dad, I’ll know what I’m doing. Or look like I know what I’m doing. Or be able to fake it until I figure out something that works better.
*~*~*
I wrote last year about being a link in the chain. Watching my parents interact with my son, I’m very aware of being the middle link. It’s a big new thing, or a bunch of little new things all tied together. The view is much different than I thought it would be.
If I thought I would feel a bond with Ben, I underestimated the magnitude of my deep ingrained love for him. If I thought about the day-to-day experiences of childcare, there’s no way I could anticipate how I would do anything to make him smile and laugh, sing and dance any song that would stop his crying, or feel completely at peace with him sleeping in my arms. Words don’t work for those things.
It's a gift, and I am very grateful to be here to share it.
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