Nobody tells you about the laugh.
They prep you for the sleeplessness. The crying you can't decode. The way you'll stand over the crib at 3:00am watching his chest rise and fall because you can't stop yourself. The first time his chin drops so far into his neck in the car seat that you pull over, run around to the back door, and stand there on the shoulder of the road with your heart in your throat until you see his chest move. People tell you about the sleeplessness. Nobody tells you about any of that other stuff. Nobody tells you about his very tan skin as a newborn. It’s not something I thought would come to my mind. Why does our son have a tan when myself and his mom are so pale? Then you find out about jaundice in newborns…and laugh in the car after leaving his pediatrician’s office.
What they also don't mention is the first time he laughs. Really laughs. Not the reflex smile, not the gas grin. The real one. Full body…a chuckle. Like he discovered something that had been there the whole time, just waiting.
It stops you completely. Whatever you were doing, whatever you were worried about, whatever version of yourself you were performing that day. Gone. You're just standing there, trying to hold it together in front of a person who is four months old. And all it took for Graham was a random ladybug toy that spins I could use to mimic a stunt airplane.
My parents have photos of me as a kid. Not many. The ones that survived are soft around the edges, half the faces bleached out by bad exposure or a flash that didn't know what it was doing. Some are bent. Some are stuck together and ripped. A few have water damage. That's the record. That's what they gave to me to hold onto.
My son is thirteen months old and I have thousands of him. Sharp, searchable, backed up in the cloud. Daycare sends photos throughout the day. I take a look when I can. I get to watch my baby become a toddler in real time, from wherever I happen to be standing. Nobody's parents had that, until very recently.
I have video of the laugh. I can watch it whenever I want. I've watched it more times than I'll admit…along with the hundreds of photos I have of him and my wife. It’s a great way to doom scroll in a healthier way before going to sleep.
Thirteen months. I haven't slept many full nights. I've also never laughed that hard, felt that intense, or understood so clearly what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. Both things at once, all the time.
Happy Father's Day to anyone in the thick of it.
-Paul
