Along Came Daddyhood

(Originally Published 11/24/08)

While it's only been 2 1/2 weeks since Rowe arrived, it feels closer to 4 months. Diapers, burping, and sleep deprivation may have something to do with that, but when the majority of your world revolves around this new person, every little thing is oohed over and it tends to slow time down.

It's like news coverage. We keep watching and waiting for the next big thing: a smile, eye contact, a good firm handshake or whatever, but we end up seeing the same things: red-faced bowel movements, grunting, and sleep. But we continue with this methodical Rowe-watching.

I don't think either of us would have it any other way because we're content to see his same old tricks. We'll be excited when we get that first cognizant smile, but we aren't wishing anything away right now.

My favorite memory from these past 2 weeks is right after Rowe was born and he was laid out in his incubator as the nurses ran the seemingly unending gauntlet of tests on him. I was floating around the room, not really knowing where to go or how to deal with ugly cry that was making its way up from my chest.

I remember sitting down on a stool and just watching him as the nurses yanked, poked, and prodded his little body. He had a long list of reasons from which to justify his crying and I wondered if I could offer any comfort to him yet, or if he would have to learn my smell, voice, and touch before he would allow himself to be comforted by me.

In my ignorance, I reached out to rub his chest hoping that this would inspire some kind of security within him. But as I extended my hand, his hand intercepted my finger and he gripped it with a ferocious and unrelenting grip. He stopped crying and his bobbing head turned in my direction.

Now I could tell you that he smiled, or said 'thank you' or 'what up', but I think we all know that most of that sequence was a newborn's involuntary movements and not a conscious effort to communicate with me. But that makes no difference to me because that first memory of interacting with Rowe will always be folded up and stored in my heart.

Regardless of whether or not it was pure chance that he grabbed my hand and looked in my direction, I will always have the memory of Rowe accepting his frazzled father's feeble attempt at comfort.