Happy Birthday Little One

It’s hard to believe, but two years ago today my entire life changed in a way I never imagined possible.

I had already been a step-parent, officially, for two years. Longer if you count all the time Matilda and I spent together during the time I courted her mom. We were already an integrated family. My name had moved naturally from “Gary” to “Daddy Gary” to just plain “Daddy” without any input from either of us. After the wedding, even before, we had settled into the ease and chaos of a normal family.

Matilda had already managed to survive the first day of Kindergarten (I bawled like a baby when she got on the bus), and was freshly implanted in her first grade class.

When her mom told me she was pregnant (a fact it took my family a full thirty seconds to figure out thanks to a denied glass of wine), I was thrilled. Ecstatic. Terrified.

I was working for a company that had filed for bankruptcy. Out of 250 former employees, I was one of six working to close the place down. I felt like I had a knife to my throat. Here I was with a job that was soon ending, a six year old and a pregnant wife.

I threw myself into the pregnancy. I could smell my wife’s nausea. I could sense each new hormonal change.

“Did you hear that,” I asked.

“What?” she replied.

“I think you’re lactating.”

Eventually I transitioned from the dying job to a new, grotesquely high-paying job in the same relative industry. After the first two weeks I was miserable.

So I had come from facing unemployment to facing a life of indentured servitude to a job that filled me with dread, regret and a general gassy feeling. And there was a baby on the way!

The pregnancy went smoothly. The worst thing that happened was my wife’s frequent back aches and her newly discovered power of Super Smell. (“Sniff. You ate chicken at lunch, didn’t you? I think I’m going to puke.”)

We made it through everything together, as a family. Matilda and I hid when Mommy was emotional. We ate weird food and we all sat and dreamed about what this little mystery being would be like when it was finally born. We stared at the ultrasound pictures and thought, “Who will you be? Will you be smart? Will you be pretty? Will you be funny? Will you like music? Will you be a holy terror? Will you be an angel?”

Finally the day arrived. With a stunning alacrity that would foreshadow her energy and zest for life, little Gertrude was born.

After she was born, I was the first to hold her. This little, perfect human being in my arms had just provided me with the most exhilarating moment of my life. I looked into her big blue eyes and knew, from that moment on, I was lost. Between her and her older sister I knew what the future held: Credit Cards, trips to Disney World, books, movies, clothes, cars, villas on the French Riviera, my little girls would have anything they would want.

On our first day home, watching Mom and baby sleeping soundly in each other’s arms, I knew what I had to do. What I had to be.

Without looking back, I threw myself into being a Dad. Not just any Dad, but Gertrude and Matilda’s dad. And without a shred of regret, rather, filled with pride and happiness, I have dedicated myself to that task. I think I’m doing pretty well.

And now my little baby is two. She’s walking, talking, joking, playing and loving like a little human. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s pretty, she’s a holy terror, she’s an angel, she likes music. She’s everything I ever imagined and more.

Each day her little face greets me with a lust for life that I wish I could tap into. She soaks up new information like Richard Feynman on crack. She inspires me every day.

But what I am most in awe of, what I take the most pride in is her relationship with her big sister. Matilda is the epitome of an older sibling. She’s doting, loving, tender and provides a guiding hand for her impatient little sister. Gertrude imitates her. She follows her and tries to be involved at every turn of Matilda’s life. Sometimes, when I find them sitting in Matilda’s room playing, I’m filled with such a feeling of love that I want to scoop them both up and hug them.

Happy Birthday little one. I hope this universe is everything you want it to be. I hope that you are always adventurous and curious enough to discover those things you don’t know and wise enough to share what you do know. I am amazed by you every time I look at you. And I thank you for the things you’ve taught me, without even trying.

Just remember, though you may hate me someday for all the right reasons, I’m always here. At a moment’s notice I’ll be at your side to comfort you. And know that I am always ready to back off and let you learn life’s little lessons on your own.

But at every turn, at every moment always know that I have been and always shall be your daddy. And you will always be my little girl.

Go to sleep and hush little darling.
It's time for bed, time to put out the light.
Sweet dreams are awaiting behind your closed eyes
and a blanket of night.
Where the bed bugs don't bite.
Go to sleep and hush until morning.
You've said all your prayers.
Time to make them come true.
Don't worry your daddy is here
If you need him tonight.
Ease your mind.
Rest your eyes and sleep tight.
Goodnight.
--Roger Manning