My daughter turned sixteen this week, which is one of those things that you strain to imagine when you first have a daughter. So, I dug up and read some of the things I wrote back then. And then I thought I'd put them together and share them -- mostly because it didn't seem like it would be a lot of work. But it was. It was a bunch.
I realize now that the tone of my journal, particularly about this kind of stuff, is embarrassingly mushy. But, it's too late to do anything else now and so I'm just going to post and not think about it and LA-LA-LA-LA-I-CAN'T-HEAR-YOU-LA-LA-LA...
April 3, 1999
I’m sitting in the food court at Westmoreland Mall, muddling through a 12 oz. Cup of Earl Grey black tea with cream. And I’m watching a baby fall asleep at the next table.
She's about a month old. Her dad is rocking the stroller with his foot and he stared at him for a long time before she dozed off. Her eyes closed, she fought them open, they closed, she struggled again, they went down one last time. Dad keeps on rocking.
Bryan may end up being our only kid -- I have less of a problem with that than Tracey does. She wants another badly. I'm not denying her anything on purpose.
But I’m also wondering if I can bear to worry about another kid as much as I do about Bryan. I don't know if I want to double my chances of losing a kid to traffic or disease or one of the zillion other things that lurk in the future of so many families.
But there is a certain appeal to another year of lullabies.
The first couple has moved along and I now sit across from a woman who is having lunch with a boy who looks about nine. She has a newborn in a stroller too.
I'm afraid I might neglect a kid who came along that late. I wouldn’t intend to, but I’m betting it would happen anyway.
Man. That's a big baby.
I'm afraid I might neglect a kid who came along that late. I wouldn’t intend to, but I’m betting it would happen anyway.
Man. That's a big baby.
*** 33 Days Later ***
Entry 405
May 6, 1999
Tracey and I are stepping on the gas as we move into our sixth year of marriage. We're looking for a house, planning for Bryan's preschool, rearranging our finances, and making what preparations we can for baby #2.
Baby #2, people!
The single worst session of intercourse in the long history of people climbing on each other produced one displaced hip, one back spasm and one zygote.
I would like to issue an apology to the person that zygote will become. The curse of the second child is that the first kid absorbs the magic and poetry. Not all of it. Most, though.
As of now, you stem-celled tadpole, you'll be Emily Lynn or Jacob... something. Tracey is pushing for Jacob Anderson, but I don't know why and neither does she.
*** 58 Days Later ***
Entry 416
July 2, 1999Heard the heartbeat of the child that will be Jacob or Emily. Bryan heard it too. He was very disappointed that Tracey didn't give birth yesterday.
*** 43 Days Later ***
Entry 424
August 13, 1999
A much-anticipated sonogram has revealed a well-formed child of undetermined sex. I hope the child will become more cooperative later in its life.
*** 154 Days Later ***
Entry 453
January 6, 2000
The pager went off. I knew it was time, although Tracey didn’t use the beeper code of imminent delivery (505... ‘SOS’ in seven-segment digital displays) but rather the important conversation code (45... from Thomas Dolby’s Radio Silence -- ‘Caroline 452').
I know it's time because two staff members called off, including the woman who usually does the morning trip on Thursdays. So all of the components are in place for a grand catastrophe. I'm just waiting for the call that someone else in coming in and I can leave. It's hard to sit still.
I’d hate to taint the writings of a day which may be my daughter’s birthday with a mention of a dream about Fiona Apple and a Superman outfit. But, who's going to ever read this?
*** Three Days Later ***
Entry 454
January 9, 2000 (1:25 am)
Emily came at 6:36, weighing 8 lbs. And 10.oz. My wife shrieked. Pushing was brief but torturous. And I’m glad she’s done with it.
But it was good. And it's good to know that the last night of anticipation is behind you. Even if what lies ahead is scary, it’s familiar. And you’re reminded that all the pain and sickness is leading to something precious.
And you’re also reminded of what it is to do little but hold your wife’s hand for six hours. It’s nice. And you’re not likely to do it often.
Everyone’s asleep now. Emily too. Small and asleep. Now, she’ll just grow to be a girl. And do and feel all those unfathomable things that girls do and feel.
And you’re also reminded of what it is to do little but hold your wife’s hand for six hours. It’s nice. And you’re not likely to do it often.
Everyone’s asleep now. Emily too. Small and asleep. Now, she’ll just grow to be a girl. And do and feel all those unfathomable things that girls do and feel.
*** 2,708 Days Later ***
Entry 1201
6-8-07
Emily walks out to the couch where I am watching TV. She is carrying a bag of snacks and plops down next to me. And then she sighs and says, "I love you".
“Well, I love you too, Emily,” I respond, hoping that she won't notice that I've started to shake and cry with happiness.
And she says, “I was talking to my pretzels.”
6-8-07
Emily walks out to the couch where I am watching TV. She is carrying a bag of snacks and plops down next to me. And then she sighs and says, "I love you".
“Well, I love you too, Emily,” I respond, hoping that she won't notice that I've started to shake and cry with happiness.
And she says, “I was talking to my pretzels.”
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