And I Never Let Go

7.16.2009

And I Never Let Go

Trying to recollect the hours and minutes before the birth of my daughter I just seem to remember only flashes and feelings. I remember sitting alone in a small room with the news on trying to put strange paper booties over my shoes and thinking to myself, "why do I need to have these on my shoes? What could possibly be thwarted by wearing strap-on slippers?" This lasted no more than a few seconds because it was impossible to think about anything over my silent panic as I sat in the chair waiting to be told to meet my wife in the surgery room so she can give birth to my daughter. The news was on.

I didn't move much while I waited...

And then a person came in and everything blurs to pastels in the rain. Snippets of visions I recall. Aly, my wife smiling at me and I knowing that it was a smile trying to hide everything my smile was trying to hide: everything from now on is nothing I have ever known.

A woman asking me if I wanted to cut the cord and my split second reaction, "No" as I was covered with audio/visual equipment, pushing the cart down a hallway and thinking to myself how very important it is right now not to run into anything as Addie looked up and than fell asleep wearing a little hat, and watching my daughter as her grandparents watched me through the glass of the nursery.

Those days, and the days after are memories. In those days I kept searching for what had changed. I was a father but nothing felt different. I still stayed up late, still wanted to watch movies and have a beer or two (or three) on the weekend. I changed diapers, let Addie fall asleep in my arms, and spent a lot of time just trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing differently.

I am still not exactly sure of the answer. I know that I think of things differently now, and perhaps that is all that is different. I think of Addie's giggles, and like I said earlier of feelings.

It is this that is different more than anything else. I don't think of when Addie was grabbing her toes, one little hand on two little toes and the other little hand trying to make that final reach to grab two others. I should say that I do think of that but just briefly. I let the memory slide away and let the feeling associated with it stay. I focus on it.

That is different. My focus.

It happened, like so many things in our lives, so slowly or so quickly you are not sure which it was. I may never know if I felt this way the day she was born or collected it over time. All I know is one day, and I have no idea what day it was, I picked up Addie in a different way than I have ever picked up anything ever in my life...

And I Never Let Go