To My Little One

By Jcontrench • February 19, 2018

I'm not the greatest man alive. I can't even begin to explain the kind of stories you will hear about me, love. Surely some old mate will come and visit and then you'll hear about the time I did this or that and I'll try to change the subject.

I don't have a good past, I'm afraid. I have to be a role model now but I used to skip school all the damn time to do drugs and play the guitar and have stupid bets with my other mates, bets that are best left unsaid, sweetheart. Then I'd come home and my father would hit me in the head for no reason at all. He hated me so bloody much and I never understood, but I knew I hated him too. I hated his breath on my face every time he yelled about something stupid, I hated the weight of his fist on my face, I hated the pity looks I got while walking around with a black eye or some other bruise. I hated him. I vowed never to be like him.

It all went downhill for a long time. Learned some tricks on how to get by, lied to a lot of bad people who caused me a lot of trouble, got into mess after mess and I stayed with anyone who wanted to stay with me. Didn't matter if I'd never see them again, the important thing was getting through the night without dealing with all the nightmare that plagued my head.

Then, after a lot of bad choices and bad days and bad everything, I met your mother. Most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen.

See, you'll find yourself attracted to people when you're--much much--older, and it's fine, but sweetheart, I swear that what I felt for your mother back then was different than anything else I'd ever felt before.

We bonded over our shared hatred for the band that was on the radio. Coldplay. We just couldn't take another hit of 'and ignite your bones' anymore.

Fell in love with her faster than I don't even know what. She's pretty amazing. I'm sure you know this already, somehow. Every time you look at her your eyes get all big and you stare in wonder. With me you just giggle a lot, which is pretty fitting, I won't lie.

So, maybe I shouldn't be telling you this. Well, I'm not actually telling you this, but hey, maybe you'll find this post years later and we'll have a nice chat about how I gushed on the internet about you and your mom and you'll tease me endlessly for it. Okay, so, your mom is not only gorgeous, but also really smart. So smart she figured out I was a piece of sh*t pretty early on. And yet, she stayed. Which I know puts in question the 'smart' bit, but hear me out. She stayed, even though she knew about the bad choices and the past with the drugs and the abusive father and the horrible influence it all had on me. She stayed through the drinking and the smoking and the bad nights and the lazy days. She stayed because, and this I'm sure she will tell you, because she had her own issues too. And she understood mine. Basically, love, you were brought into this world by two people who got screwed over by life and found each other.

And see, even though I never thought about becoming a father, even though I was still carrying the resentment my own old man planted in me, when I found the pregnancy test your mom was trying so hard to hide from me, the first thing, the very first thing I did was smile. She hadn't even opened it yet and there I was, smiling like a bloody idiot. Next day I told her I'd found it, and she took it and it was positive and we had this moment, love, where she looked at me and I looked at her and we knew something big was going to happen to us and we were scared and happy at the same time and it was like I could feel everything she was feeling and vice versa. I got your mom wrapped up in a hug and we stayed like that for a long time.

Here's something else about your mom: she's tough. Also, she hates crying. Especially in front of other people.

Well, thanks to the rush of pregnancy hormones, your mom actually cried in the middle of the supermarket because her favorite chips were all gone. Big fat tears and a lot of sobbing and me comforting her and trying my best not to laugh. Drove around town for a few hours until I found the damn thing and brought it to her.

I remember that day clearly because it happened two days before you kicked for the very first time. Then I was the one crying. I don't cry easily either. To be honest every time I saw someone going crazy over a baby's first kick I always wondered if it really was that amazing. It seemed so foreign to me. Weird, even. Then I felt you move right against my hand and I knew you were actually there, alive and well and responding to us and ah, to hell with it, I cried. I stand corrected, then. A baby's first kick is really something else.

This one I'm sure you won't hear about for a long time, not until you're old enough, at least. I'll spare the details because your old man here can't really talk about it without reducing himself into a pathetic mess, but your mom had some complications during the pregnancy. Got pulled aside by the doctor and told that I had to prepare myself. I wasn't even listening. I felt like all the bad stuff I'd done had caught up with me, I felt like I was going to lose everything because I didn't deserve everything, I didn't deserve your mother, I didn't deserve you. My heart almost gave out. I'm already pale, but I guess I turned ghostly white. My hands were shaking. I remember all of that, sweetheart. It was the most horrible moment of my entire life. It was worse than all the sh*t I went through as a young lad combined.

I remember when they wheeled you out and I caught a glimpse of you. I remember feeling lost and disoriented and being told to wait. Your mother was in surgery because she had lost a lot of blood. And I was waiting. They let me see you. Came back to get me so I could see you. I held you and you were tiny and strangely enough, I was not at all worried about accidently hurting you. I knew I could hold you in my arms forever without getting tired or being a clumsy idiot. I was even praised for it. Got some nurse telling me I was a natural which, let's face it, is ironic as hell. I couldn't stop staring at you. I made you all sorts of promises.

Some time later they came in to tell me your mother had pulled through and was fine and they were just waiting for her to wake up. Love, I broke down in relief. And then hours later, when she got to hold you for the first time, she felt the same amazement I did and then looked right at you and told you that she knew you.

You have no idea how much sense that simple sentence made. You were hours old but it felt like we'd known you for an eternity. You were ours. Just ours.

And today you're 6 months old. You like sleeping, which is very much appreciated. You hate fruits. You like pulling hairs and other things. You pull your own hair sometimes. When you're upset, you want your mom. When you're sleepy, you want me. You like to sleep on my chest. You have a favorite color and it's red. You adore anything that's red. You hate yellow. We know because you threw the yellow plastic mug across the room, but wouldn't let go of the red one. Your favorite blankie is also red. When your mom sings Silent Lucidity to you, you actually babble along, as if you know what the next part is. You hate anyone who isn't us. If we kiss in front of you, you giggle. If we give you a kiss on the cheek, you clap your hands together.

You're my little one, sweetheart.

I'm not going to pretend life is great. Life sucks a lot to everyone. It's something you'll have to learn eventually. I'm still not the best role model out there, the mistakes I've made, I know some of them will follow me forever, but I only care about you and your mom.

You both saved me.


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