Visions of Zoe!

Zoe is born!!

Will all cliches come true? What a beauty! What a miracle! What an unexplainable glory! How sweet she is! How innocent! How vulnerable! How perfect! Jess and I have been rendered stupefied by this little master of art and science. I've never felt anything like this before.

My brain is lit! It doesn't understand. It's convinced that I'm dreaming. It's drenched each moment in surrealism. There is no fantasy that can match the reality of the newborn baby asleep in the swinging chair. And the next day, the miracle is chugging a bottle of Enfamil as a dog scratches its ears in the window. Is this life? Is this real?

Usually in life, magical moments are fleeting. They're a quick darting day at Disneyland, or an exhilarating new freedom at a graduation ceremony. But ever has elation lasted this long. Will it always be this way?

My girl was born at 10:26 am on June 21st. I was there, although I feel like an entirely different man that writes before you today. I was actively participating in all the graphic realities before me. I was watching the top of her head approaching and retreating with each push and associated rest. I was inches away when Her head finally cleared, and she seemed to hover in the air. She was looking at me, not even completely born! Her body still inside her mother. It seemed to last for hours. It seemed to last for an instant. And before I knew it, she was free. She was laying on Jess' stomach. She was crying. But it didn't feel like sadness. It felt like the miracle itself! It felt like the miracle describing itself to me in the language of a little newborn Girl!

And the miracle cried. And I looked at her. I put my hand on her back. and I said "It's Ok Zoe. It's me! It's your daddy!" And she immediately stopped crying. She looked at me, and then rested. And each time she felt the confusion overtake her, she'd begin crying again. And I'd reassure her, and she'd rest again. Even now, two weeks later, she is easily consoled. Just with a word.