I’m five months into fatherhood.
The days are long.
The weeks are short.
My sleep hasn’t yet recovered.
And I love every minute.
But, though Claire is constantly hitting milestones that are advanced for her age, I want her to be older now.
I don’t want to have to wait months and years for her to grow teeth (which she has already started), learn language, understand conversation, and effective communication abilities. I want that all now.
I guess you could blame this on me being a Millennial. I grew up wanting immediate satisfaction and resolve for things I put very little effort into.
But I’m also a college graduate, so I understand the importance of putting a lot of effort into something that takes up only eight words on my résumé.
I’m just anxious to tell Claire everything I see in her. I want to tell her about what it was like to see her after she was born, to change her diaper ten times a day, to cuddle with her when she woke up at three in the morning, and to see her smile back every time I smile at her. I don’t want to wait years. I want to tell her now—before my memories fade, before the routines set in, before she’s interested in more than just Mom, Dad, and the stuffed animal bunny that doesn’t have any stuffing.
And though I hate all of the waiting, I know it will be totally worth the wait when—in a few years and forever after that—I know Claire understands me when I say eight words that are more important than anything on my résumé: “You’re my daughter, and I’ll love you forever.”