Things I never want to forget about you, dear Baby. ~ Waylon

Having a baby in this wild, troubled world has turned me not just into a father but into a grandma or grandpa: suddenly, I say things like “precious” and “light of my life” and “dear” without irony, and with feeling.

Things I never want to forget about this time with you, dear baby:

the snow falling on the roof as I rocked you in the middle of the night after you’d woken up, crying,

your little self clutching at my beard or shirt or chest as you cuddled into me: the trust of a baby is only less precious and gratifying that the many smiles and laughs and the lighting up of your eyes when you see me.

The weight of your little body, the heat of your little body, sleeping on my chest as I hold you and drink coffee and read a book, pinned to whatever couch you’ve decided to fall asleep on me on.

Seeing you learn to press yourself up, so close to crawling. Seeing your little face grow. Seeing your arms and legs grow fat and strong, where once they were so teensy and thin and frail.

Your life is so precious to me. So dear. You are so vulnerable, so new, so smooth, so bright and tender and helpless in your need for mama’s love and milk and milk and love and naps and I am always honored to rock you and bounce you to sleep and sing songs Dale taught us when we were small, at Vidya, with you and to you and I love helping you grow and stretch and play and dance and making funny sounds with you and now I get it:

why it’s so difficult to write about the love of a baby. It’s like the positive version of telling someone how awful your plane delay was: it’s dramatic and meaningful to you and anyone who hears about it glazes over. We get it…they think…babies are cute! Enough!

But we don’t get it. I’ve always wanted a baby a child a family and I could not have imagined how simple and yet universal and powerful (and fun) this love is.

I love you Willa Goodall Lewis. May we be of benefit! I’m honored to be your father.