First Week of Fatherhood

It's been a blur.  My sleep schedule has been completely haphazard, almost always leaning towards going to sleep very late into the night and thus getting up very late in the morning (if not the early afternoon).

In your first two or three days of life, Seva, you barely opened your eyes and when you did it was only for a second or two.  In the last few days, though, you've opened your eyes more and more, and those moments which have turned into minutes have been precious.  I'm pretty sure that you recognize me when you look at me.  That makes me feel really good and makes me look forward to our future.

During this first week of fatherhood, I've finished two books: The Journey to the East by Hermann Hesse and The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.  Both books being short, they were perfect for this first week, when I needed some easy-to-digest prose fiction.  Both books, though simple on the surface, were deep and thought-provoking in their own way.  The Journey to the East obliged me to ask myself whether, in any journey including life itself, faith is more important than reality.  And The Old Man and the Sea reminded me that endurance in the face of all opposition, even one's own perceived weaknesses, can be noble.  I hope that those two qualities -- faith and endurance -- characterize my role as father.

I've also noticed, dear Seva, that you love to be held.  Sometimes you'll be crying, but then your mother or I pick you up and you immediately calm down.  We've also noticed that you absolutely cannot stand having your arms restricted in any way when you're swaddled.  Which reminds me: sometimes when you're sleeping, you have a "hallelujah" moment when you suddenly and unexpectedly raise both arms in the air above your head; it's pretty funny to see.

Another point of pride and happiness from this past week was finally being able to go back to church.  I went by myself to Good Friday mass at 4:00 p.m.  Then, you, your mother, and I went to Easter Vigil mass last night at 8:00 p.m.  I did the fifth reading, which was Isaiah 55:1-11.  Your mother told me that I did a great job reading, but I was pretty loud.  I'll try to remember next time not to stand quite as close to the microphone.  At the beginning of the mass, Father Ed announced to everyone there that the youngest member of the church -- at only one week old -- was there, which meant that everyone who wasn't there had no excuse not to be there; he said your name to the whole congregation, while your mother was holding you and I waved my right hand so everyone could see who Father Ed was talking about.

As I write this post, I've been drinking a glass of Callia Alta, 2012 vintage Malbec.  It's not that great, but there's still something quite romantic about writing while drinking coffee or wine.  Also, as I type these very words, the Baby is sitting on top of the printer/scanner to my left, watching my fingers tap the keyboard.  I just took a break to scratch the Baby's chest, while she sits in her typical statue pose when she's really tired.  I love her and Rocky very much.

Anyway, I ought to go to bed now.  Buenas noches, estimado lector.