On Sept 8, my own name day, my first child and daughter, Saoirse Faye, was borne. I want to be hyperbolic, but it seems irreverent. The real word I’m looking for is “awesome,” because I’m literally filled with awe at my responsibility, the reality of creating a person, and the maturity I must have now.
She looks just like my wife, and it’s uncanny. It’s like she just printed her out. It’s beautiful. And somehow that teaches me something. I took high school biology like anyone else, but this alone implies so much onus–I can’t even begin to fathom where the limits are. I did this. Me. This was my choice.
I’m also so proud of Emily for doing all of this hard work. Much of it is passive, yes: she just has to let the baby grow inside of her and not let it get injured. But so much is not. She had to decide to be a parent. She had to decide to let the baby’s health take priority in her life. She had to be okay with feeling the hunger, the aching, the shortness of breath, and the labor pains. She made so many more sacrifices that I ever had to, and I love her for it. I’m dwarfed by her courage and resiliency.
I’ve been on a business trip for a few months, and I’ve missed out on half the pregnancy stuff. At first it was a joke that I would miss the crazy weird mood swings and the 2 a.m. hunger pangs, but now I see that I missed the sacrifice.
And that should not be undervalued.
My wife is a legend of a woman. Anyone can become a parent, even accidentally, but she was already worthy of songs sung about her by bards and adventurers before she gave birth. I have never met anyone more mature, pragmatic, smart, witty, loyal, or forgiving as her. She is fierce in her beauty and wisdom. I can’t imagine a better wife, and I can’t imagine what she’ll be like as a parent.
I’m ecstatic about being a father. I’m so excited I’ve got such a wonderful partner. I can’t wait to meet my daughter. I’ll keep you guys updated.