I want to be there for you. You scream for us when we leave you in your crib to go to sleep. You grabbed your pillow and your blankie and stood at the rail crying. We’ve let you “cry it out” before. We’ve stood in the doorway until you decided to lay down and go to sleep. I’ve stood by your crib and sang you to sleep. But tonight I get to do my favorite. I sometimes take it for granted, but not tonight. I lay down on the floor by your crib and you lay down beside me. I put my hand through the rails and you hold it tight with your little hand. You switch hands to brush the hair out of your eyes—and then quickly switch back so as to not lose your grip.
I’m here. I realize these moments won’t always be here. I know that you won’t always need me—or want me. I know that these are times that will only happen once and never happen again.
I think about these things and I have to write them down. So here I am, by your crib. You let go of my hand and hold your blankey, so I get my phone to start to write. Your hand comes through the rails and rests on my shoulder. You pat my shoulder and rub my shoulder. You crack your eyes and you know I’m here.
There’s so much else I need to do—so much else I want to do. But my baby girl has her hand on Daddy’s shoulder. All the parenting advice we’ve read has told me I shouldn’t be here right now… or that I at least don’t need to make a habit of this. But my child can rest and sleep in complete peace because her father is here—that’s me—I’m here.
I don’t want to ever forget this emotion—this feeling of fatherly love. I don’t want you to ever forget this emotion—this feeling of fatherly love. I am so thankful to have you and to be loved by you—and you let me know that you feel the same—by holding my hand—by being at peace—by knowing that now—now you can close your eyes and your world is all right.
