being a dad.

There have been two moments where I felt especially like a parent—like that wave of responsibility and love and connection and joy…

Strangely enough, neither were at the hospital. So much was going on then—so many things to keep track of with schedules and back-and-forth and measuring ounces and checking vitals and untangling tubes—that the essence of fatherhood didn’t seep in, it just happened.

After that, a lot of the time, Elliot kinda felt like a toy or a pet or a really cute baby that I actually didn’t feel awkward around. And I don’t say that to diminish my feelings for her at all. I love that kid so much. Just, I don’t know… rarely the wave. Just… just… all I can think of is “is.” It just is. And it is great. And it is fun. And it is a huge opportunity to grow and learn and become unselfish and to lose self-consciousness and be silly for a beautiful little creature that grins like a goon when I dance in the kitchen eating yummy yogurt.

So, anyways… these two waves. They’re kinda silly, but they’re my waves.

One was maybe a couple months ago. Elliot learned the word “puppy” when she watched Bolt on day with Suzie. She loved that show and she loved that puppy. This clip below would just mesmerize her. She would stare at the TV, with wide eyes full of concern, and gently tap her thigh (sign for “puppy”) while whispering—even just breathing at times—the word out loud… puppy… puppy…… And then Penny comes in and picks up Bolt and they hug and Elliot would smile so huge and pat her thigh with such excitement and look over at us with this face as though to say, “Can you believe it? They got together after all!” Too cute… But, I digress.

So, right after she first sees this movie, she starts saying “puppy” a lot (as in, as soon as she would wake up in the morning… first word) and eventually we started to put it together that she’s not just saying “puppy” for fun, she asking to watch the show. So we find it in the TV Guide and set the DVR to record it the next time it comes on. Later that night I’m holding her—I think we’re about to give her a bath—and she looks up at me with these begging eyes and says “puppy?” and I say, “Not tonight, baby… we can watch it tomorrow, though.”

BAM.

Wave #1.

Why? What’s the big deal?

It was our first real conversation. She asked for something—something I couldn’t give her—and I had to tell her, Sorry, I can’t. And then cushion the defeat: We can watch it tomorrow, though.

I was a DAD having a conversation with—not my baby—my little girl. Wild.

Wave #2.

Much less back story. And much more recent. As in tonight…

Typically Elliot sleeps all swaddled up because she’s such a squirmer than none of us get any sleep if she isn’t. But tonight, she was asleep (restlessly) on the bed without a blanket. And she woke up (or course) so I go pick her up to rock her back to sleep. I don’t grab the blanket—just her.

So she’s laying in my arms, hugging my body with one hand (because there’s no blanket in the way) and grabbing the neck of my shirt with the other—you better not leave, she’s telling me. I’m not letting go. And she drifts to sleep. Peacefully.

Her eyes don’t close all the way. And her mouth is slightly agape. But that babe is out. And in an instant, she looks, again, not just like a baby, but like a little girl. She’s beautiful and silly looking and she’s holding onto her daddy’s shirt. And that gives her the comfort to sleep.

And I’m trying to be ever so quiet as to not disturb her, but I can’t stop laughing because my wave is crashing over me. And, for some reason, that’s what I do when something dramatic and emotional and beautiful happens… I laugh.