Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.


#105 In which our hero talks about #2.

It occurs to me that I haven't written much about my younger daughter, Macey.

There she is. If your connection speed just dropped significantly, it's from the strain of your CPU trying to render my butterball of a baby. It would appear that The Scientist and I only know how to make big babies.

Now here's the thing about my beefy baby: I like her. And I feel slightly guilty about it. Let me explain.

When Lily was born I, of course, knew nothing about being a father. But, my expectation was that I would be suddenly and overwhelmingly flooded with emotion for this little person.

But I wasn't.

I mean, I was very happy to see her arrive safe and sound, and I was relieved that she was healthy and had all her fingers and toes... but that overpowering bond of love just wasn't there. And I worried about it. I thought I must be a bad dad. How could I be indifferent to the life I just helped bring into the world?

But, over time (and to be truthful, a short amount of it) my feelings started to change. Maybe because Lily spent most of her waking hours in her mother's arms I didn't make that initial connection... or maybe when she got a little older and actually started to laugh and smile at me... for whatever reason, it wasn't long before I started to feel that love for her. And now? Jeez... the other day, out of the blue, Lily gave me a hug and said, "Dada's my friend" and I damn near cried. I love that girl more than I thought I had a capacity to love.

But her sister... well, my feelings for her are much like my first feelings for Lily. She's okay, I like her. But when I compare my gigantic love for Lily to my middling affection for Macey I feel more like a bad dad than ever. But, I know it's going to change.

Matter of fact, it's already started to change.

Macey's been sick for a while now. Her doctor says it's just a cold, and it can take weeks for it to clear up completely. He assured us it's nothing to worry about. Then, last week, Macey was really fussy and inconsolable one night. The Scientist, fearing the worst, rushed her off to the emergency room.

And once she got there, Macey let out a big, wet burp and calmed down right away. The stinker.

But, a few days later she spiked a 102 degree fever. The Scientist arranged to take her to the doctor. This was late in the day, and I took off work early and drove up there to meet them at the doctor's office.

And here's the thing: there was a dumb amount of traffic in my way. And as I sat there, not moving, I started to fret. Kids DIE from high fevers. High fevers can be a symptom of something much worse. Macey's only five months old, for chrissake!

So I had myself worked up to a pretty good lather by the time I got there. Of course, the doctor checked her out and nothing was life threatening, and we took her home.

But, it would appear that I'm not so indifferent toward daughter #2 as I thought.

Good lord... I'm already wrapped tight around Lily's finger... what's going to happen when I'm wrapped around both of 'em?


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