Dad 2022. 5 Days.

It’s Friday and you are five days old. We are enchanted by you. All day long we get lost in your wiggles and breaths and your deep green eyes. You’ve spent most of your time on this earth so far upstairs in our bedroom, in the bassinet by the bed and in the big blue chair by the balcony door. You nurse, you sleep, you are admired. Mom feeds you on the chair while Apricot and I sit on the floor nearby, helping how we can. I make entries in your chart: 16 minutes left breast, 12 minutes right breast, wet diaper at 2:36 am. You are our new timeline. We mark our days by you. We sleep when we can, though often we’d prefer to stay awake. We may have to reconsider this in the coming weeks.

I’m trying to manage things around the house. Walking and feeding Apricot, making Mom an omelette in the morning and a salmon dinner at night, going shopping for what we need. I also sneak in a run or a ride here and there. Much of making a home is making sure the people you love eat, sleep well, are warm, and are paid attention to. We are a family of four now. We are a household.

We learn something new all the time with you. Mom is a research machine, with instincts on point and a network of friends for support. I keep thinking about how you are pure magic, a source of wonderment, and yet there is a science to your care. Tending to you is practical, empirical. But you are also a marvel. You are art and love and beauty, and we are keeping track of every single time you eat and excrete.

You will have some visitors soon. You’ll meet more of your family. Your world is starting to expand. It will stretch wider each new day.