5/10/21
Dear Atlas,
I don’t need to tell you who I am anymore because you can see me now with those big, beautiful eyes of yours. You were born yesterday, after only four hours of labor, in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico.
After all these months, seeing you with my own eyes was inexplicably beautiful, wonderful, and peaceful, though the process of welcoming you into this world was inarguably one of the most strenuous experiences of my life, despite your Mom being the one who did the work to deliver you.
Your Mom and I worked as a team to get you out safely. She did the pushing, and I was there to hold her, rub her back, and let her hang with her arms around my neck when the contractions came.
They happened. Fast. It was as if you wanted to come into the world after so many weeks and months of keeping us waiting. And come you did, little Atlas. From the moment we could see the top of your head coming out of your Mom, you were surrounded by love, encouragement, and the best medical staff and facilities I’ve ever seen.
I will never forget the moment you arrived. Your Mom was having a contraction, and she was struggling with the tremendous pain that comes with labor.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “God, please help me.” She went through contraction after contraction.
She was interrupted by the midwife, who asked, “Would you like to feel his head?”
Your Mom reached down with her hand and touched your head for the very first time. Thirty seconds later, she gave one final push and I watched you slide right out of her as I stood behind her with encouragement, back rubs, and cheering.
I stood in the room as I heard you cry for the first time. You filled the air with soft cries as you took your first breath.
Many people told me before you arrived that the moment I stared into your eyes, my entire life would change and I would never be the same.
They were right, Atlas. After looking into those beautiful brown eyes of yours for the first time in my life, I saw my own reflection staring back at me. You. The most beautiful little baby I’ve ever seen in my life.
Shortly after you were born, your Aunt Julia sent me a video of herself singing a lullaby for you. She based it on “Dear Theodosia,” a song from the Broadway musical Hamilton.
Stroking her ukulele, she sang the very first song your ears ever heard.
Dear Atlas, what to say to you?
You have my eyes, you have your mother’s name
When you came into the world, you cried
And it broke my heart
I’m dedicating every day to you
Domestic life was never quite my style
When you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart
And I thought I was so smart
You will come of age with our young nation
We’ll bleed and fight for you
We’ll make it right for you
If we lay a strong enough foundation
We’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you
And you’ll blow us all away
Someday, someday
Yeah, you’ll blow us all away
Someday, someday
Oh, Atlas, when you smile I am undone
My son, look at my son
Pride is not the word I’m looking for
There is so much more inside me now
Oh Atlas, you outshine the morning sun
My son
When you smile, I fall apart
And I thought I was so smart
My father wasn’t around
My father wasn’t around
I swear that I’ll be around for you
I’ll do whatever it takes
I’ll make a million mistakes
I’ll make the world safe and sound for you
Will come of age with our young nation
We’ll bleed and fight for you
We’ll make it right for you
If we lay a strong enough foundation
We’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you
And you’ll blow us all away
Someday, someday
Yeah, you’ll blow us all away
Someday, someday
I’m watching your Mom feed you right now. You, perfectly beautiful and innocent in her arms, lovingly bonding with the woman who has carried you for nearly a year.
In this moment, I’m starting to understand the dramatic shift that takes place when a child is born. Specifically, I understand the transformation a man goes through when he holds his firstborn son in his arms, looking through the lens of countless generations that have persisted, beaten the odds, and survived this thing called life.
You and I are both part of that journey now, Atlas. It all began the moment you were born, and it will continue on for many legacies long after you and I take our final dirt nap.
I don’t know where this journey will lead, Atlas. However, I want you to know that, after seeing you with my own eyes, I now understand the great responsibility (and gift) that being a Father is.
Now that you’re here, our family has been born, and it’s up to us to raise, teach, discipline, love, care for, provide for, and protect you. As your Dad, it’s my job to take on these responsibilities for our entire family.
Atlas, I promise you that I will make a million mistakes. Nobody gets it right one hundred percent of the time. However, I want you to know I will do my very best to be your Dad and a loving partner to your Mom.
Until the wheels come off, baby.
Love,
Dad
No Comments