Dear Decker,
You are one week old today. It’s been a good first week for you, and I think for your Mom. You have taken to each other very well. You eat a lot, and besides the spitting up, you seem aOK.
My adjustment has been a little tougher, maybe. I worry constantly. I’m seemingly always concerned with whether you are breathing. Sometimes I mess with you just so I know you’re breathing. I’ll try to work on it.
One thing I can’t believe – how all consuming you are. Every moment you need something or your mother needs something so she can recover and be ready to feed you or the house needs something so we can be comfortable all living together. You demand much time and attention. And this is how it should be. You’ve had a hell of a week.
The womb was nice and cozy. You never had to worry about eating or sleeping or, maybe toughest of all, soothing yourself. Then you get tossed out into this cold world with nothing but two first-time parents to take care of you.
I’ll let you in on a little secret. We don’t know shit. We talk to people and ask good questions and google stuff and generally do the best we can, but I assure you, we don’t know shit. But we love you more than we thought humans could love, and we go with what feels right.
And that’s my piece of advice for you today. Go with your gut. You will know the right thing to do. The little part of God in you always knows the right thing to do. Right now, that means licking when you’re hungry, crying when you pooped, and peeing when I take off your diaper because that cold air seems to surprise you every time.
One day it will mean where to go to college or where to travel or who to fall in love with. Do what you think is right, Decker. You will be fine.
As for me, time management has gone from being tough, to being impossible. Something must give. My priorities must be, in order, my spiritual life, my family, and my business. This means some things will go.
After much deliberation, I have decided that posting one business idea every business day of 2012 will no longer be a priority. I have an email folder with 119 “Biz Concept” emails still in it. I have plenty of ideas. I am an entrepreneur by nature, not by choice or profession. But I don’t want to necessarily spend my time over the next two months posting business ideas when I can be posting letters to you. You are my priority.
It’s not that Estimated Future will not continue to have business ideas, it will. I just can’t assure anyone it will be one per day or one per anything. But I can assure you that you are my priority.
Love,
Dad
Ps I have been thinking about why babies don’t remember anything for awhile. The trauma of birth? The lack of association of memories with feelings?
pps When you were about 90 seconds old, I came over to the warming bassonett and you gripped my finger with your hand. That was intense. It made me way glad you are my son. Then, when you were about 30 hours old, you opened your eyes and looked around. I could see the bewilderment in your eyes. I could feel the entire human condition in your one look. I knew in that moment you deserved God. Whatever God you choose. You don’t even need to call God, God. But that’s what you deserve. And it broke my heart. Because I know that’s not me. But I’ll be the best father and friend I can be. I’m here for you.