Dear Ava,
Today you are nine months old.  You have grown so much  since you were born, and it's been so much fun to get to know the  person you are already becoming!
You have an empty diaper box  that you love to push around the house.  You slide it along the wood  floor while you walk behind it.  It's so fun to watch you getting ready  to take your first steps, finding your balance, and developing the  muscles in your legs.
Will I really someday run behind you while  you learn to ride a bike, finding your balance in a new way, at speed?   Will you really take that leap towards independence?  Will I really be  able to let go of the seat and watch you ride away?  Away towards an  ever expanding realm of self reliance?
On Wednesdays your mom  goes to a bible study group while you stay in their day care.  She tells  me that every week you start to get wiggly with excitement as she walks  you down the hall towards the room that the day care is in.  You  already have a nickname with the day care ladies; "The Motor", because  you spend the whole time crawling from child to child, smiling and  babbling at each of them.  What a people person you already are!
Will  you really go to school someday and make new friends on your own?  Will  I have to come out to the family room in the middle of the night to  tell you and your sleep-over friends that it's time to stop giggling and  go to sleep?  Will you really graduate from high school someday, and  possibly go to college?  Will I be able  to keep up with what you're studying?  Help you with your homework?   Encourage you to keep going when you fail, and adequately celebrate, or  even understand all of your successes?  Will I be able to humble myself  enough to ask you questions when you begin to understand more  about subjects than I do?
Lately you've really been enjoying  various "horsey" games where your mom and I either ride you around  on our shoulders or bounce you on our knees.  Once in a while I like  to buck you off and catch you and then kiss and tickle you.  You laugh  and laugh and then ask for more.
Yesterday I was getting tired  and had to put you down, but you weren't done playing.  Your lip came  out in a pout and you started to cry, as if you were being abandoned.   It broke my heart to see you cry from disappointment, but it secretly  also pleased me because what you wanted was more time with me.
Will  you really have to endure that first, unbearable heart break when your  first love inevitably lets you down?  Will you really have to suffer  through the feelings of rejection and abandonment that life so brutally  surprises all of humankind with?  Will I be able to offer you a quiet shoulder  to cry on?  Be able to listen to and feel your pain with out trying to  fix it?  Will I be able to watch you learn those hard lessons in life  and remember that they build character and compassion?  Will I be strong  enough not to want to kill the boy?  Will I remember to set  aside what I'm doing so that you can have more time with me?
Today,  on your nine month birthday, you started walking around the perimeter  of the coffee table, carefully stepping sideways while holding on to the  edges.  What an exciting and frightening development!  You are such a  physical and mobile child!  What, exactly, is your rush, little girl?
Will  I really be walking you down the isle someday while you're holding on to my arm?  Will I really  have to try and hold it together while a preacher asks me to give you  away?  Will I really be able to give you away??  Please don't be  in a rush, little girl.
Certainly you will always remain nine  months old.  I'm sure that all these things, and much, much more, will  happen, and you will grow up to be an amazing and wonderful and capable  woman.  But to me, in my heart, certainly you will always remain my nine  month old little girl.
I love you and I'm proud of you already.
-Dad
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What a touching blog, Brian. You really captured fatherhood in a beautiful way.
ReplyDeleteThis is precious. I love everything about this sweet letter, and I thank you for sharing it with us: your pride, your hesitation, your affection. Your (and Kristi's) attentiveness to your daughter will make a HUGE difference in her life from age 1 to 100. My Dad wrote a similar letter when I was 2 years old, and the things he noticed about my personality still hold true at age 28 (tendency to give up easily, emotionally sensitive, love of people, etc). Ava will treasure this. You are incredible parents.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful post. Made me tear up a little bit. Your daughter certainly is loved.
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