What's Dis?

Huh? Where am I? What's dis Interweb thing?

Why iz it so hard type wif dese mittens on? What does dis say, I cannot read.

Oh, hai. My name is Rebecca Marquis and I was born yesterday at 7:25 pm. I do not like to miss Jeopardy!, so I came out just in time.

I weigh 6 lbs and 10 ounces. I really like eating. My mommy and daddy are pretty cool people, but I'm not sure they know what hey are doing.

Ok, I'm bored and tired now. I go bak to seepin. Kiss me I'm cute. Luhzu all, bye bye!

A Letter To My Daughter

Hey there kiddo, how ya doing? Within 48 hours you and I will meet face-to-face, and I gotta say, it’ll be among the best days of my life. I’ve spent the last nine months thinking about you, giving you a personality, and dreaming about you in my life. On Monday, you move from a concept – a lump in my wife’s belly – to a reality. I hope, when you read this, you’ll know that I tried my best.

See, we all grow up thinking our parents are more than they are. To a child, parents are providers and pacifiers. The cycle of the parent/child relationship goes like this – For a while, you won’t recognize us, but we’ll still care for you. Soon, you will recognize us, by face and voice, and we’ll still care for you. When you first call us by name, our hearts will melt, and we’ll rush to you. But at some point, and it might not be for a decade or so, your wonder in us will fade. We’ll just be your parents, a speed bump on your road to fun. But we’ll still love you.

Perhaps at some point, you’ll succumb to cliché and prattle on about how you didn’t ask to be born. Perhaps you’ll withdraw from us for a while and try to find yourself. Your introspection is a benefit, but it won’t be easy on us.

Look at me, going on like some kind of weathered expert. Truth is, kiddo, I don’t know shit about raising a child. I’ve read some books, watched some programs, talked to some people…but I won’t know what to do until you get here. And I may not be the most technically proficient parent. Your diapers may not always stay on, you might develop a rash, your clothes will certainly not match. But I’ll make up for it.

I’ve got something that cannot be replicated. I can tell you now, before you are born, that I will try my hardest to be the best parent I can be for you. Your mother and I – we love you more than you will know until you have a child of your own – we will always look out for your best interests.

I guess it’s a good thing that you won’t remember much of your infancy; we’ll still be feeling it out, ourselves.

Sleep tight, tonight, my unborn child. Tomorrow and Monday will be busy days. Your mother and I have done a thorough job of preparing for your arrival, but it won’t be perfect. All we ask is that you bear with us, and we promise to raise you the best way we can

This Is Not My Baby

...but it doesn't mean she's any less cute.

This is actually my friends' baby. If you know, have met, or ever heard of my friend Chris, aka "Doc," this is his third daughter, Sophia Rachael. Sophie was born at 12:21 am on August 4. Despite being born nearly a month early, Sophie checked in at a healthy 7 lbs 3 oz and 19 1/2 inches.

Chris' wife and mine shared the same due date. Chris' wife was, like mine will be, induced. Chris' wife endured 31 hours in the hospital after the first doses of Pitocin before little Sophie decided to come out. Those numbers frighten me and my wife, but how can you stay upset when looking at a cute little face like that?

Congratulations to my friends on the new addition to their family. Chris now shares a home with his wife and three daughters who, in 2021, will be 18, 16, and 14. May God have mercy on his soul.

It's it. What is it? It's it.

Twice in the past week I’ve mentioned to strangers that my first child – a daughter – will be born in August. And twice, from men I have never met before, I have been told the unmitigated joy of having a daughter.

My optometrist – at my very first appointment with him – even went so far as to speak in a hushed tone, hunching down to speak with me face-to-face while I sat in the examining room.

“Most people would think that men, men want boys,” he said, “I have four children, girls and boys, the first was a girl, and I cannot even explain it.”

I don't know what“it” is, but I bet I’ll soon learn. I’m thinking that “it” is somewhere in between the following…

…hearing “daddy” for the first time…receiving flowers she has picked…taking in an afternoon tea with her and two stuffed friends…finding her during hide and seek…seeing her wear mommy’s shoes, and nearly falling over…putting a tiara on her head…putting her into a beautiful Sunday dress that wouldn’t fit over my leg…combing her hair and hearing her mock me for not being able to braid it…becoming a horse for her to ride…and right up to that moment where it’s no longer cool to kiss daddy in public.

I’m not sure where “it” is, but I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.