Sorry, folks. It’s been some time since I’ve had time to write. Hey, I’m a new father! Give the old man a break.
In fact, it’s been an amazing 10 days or so. I look and feel old. I am alternately astounded and exhausted. Yesterday evening, the baby looked in my eyes straight and the whole thing gave me a case of the fits. I was overwhelmed by the possibility that, for one microsecond, she saw my soul and I hers. It’s still hard to believe she is mine, my flesh and blood; well, not all mine.
One thing I’ve rediscovered: coffee.
Another thing I’ve learned: in all of the books about pregnancy, birth, and preparation for both, no where do they warn you that you’re going to be one sorry mess after the baby arrives ’cause you ain’t sleeping worth a damn. They also don’t tell you that you won’t believe (at least occasionally) that the baby is actually YOURS.
Note: just as I promised not to make this Blog a monologue about September 11 obsessions, you have my word I will not rename this blog Highchairs on the Titanic.