Skip to main content

Dear Son, The Real MVP


--3 Days Old---

Dear Son,

You're here! Oh my gosh - you are here!

We are super happy to have you arrive in this world, and so incredibly excited to get to know you; hug you; kiss you; bathe you; even change you. We are just so incredibly excited to learn about you and grow with you.

As I sit here punching the keys on this latest post, you lay beside me, fussing, making sporadic movements, occasionally and suddenly whaling, and even giving me a quick smirk just long enough to let me know you can turn on the attention siren whenever you feel - but it's all still awesome.

Because everything about you - your impressive amount of hair, your long limbs, your obsession with having your hands in your face - really, this crazy blend of your mother and me - is incredible.

I said it to your mother after you were born, and I truly mean it, I'm not sure how anyone can have kids and deny there is a God. I honestly don't get it. The experience really is devine, miraculous, and empowering.

But while your picture on Facebook and Instagram garner likes and comments from friends and family, and the text messages flood in and are packaged and stock-answered out for the many longing to meet you, you aren't the MVP of this time.

No sir, you aren't. And quite frankly, I'm sure this won't be the last time I'll have to keep you humbled - the way my father did to me.

While you get all of the attention, and the images, and the discussion is about you, the true MVP of your arrival is indeed your mother. The woman whose initials whom you have and represent. For when you are reading this, let it be known your mother spent 14 hours in labor with you. Yes, FOURTEEN. That's ten plus two more hours. That's more than half a day. That's a ridiculous amount of time waiting on you to enter the world.

She also spent over 24 hours in the hospital PRIOR to your birth. She's a rock. She's tough. And I can testify that on the weekend of June 22nd-25th, 2018, your mother was tremendous in everything thrown her way in the birthing process.

So, be kind to your mother. I'm pretty sure she'll let you know of this exact experience one day - possibly several times? Maybe a few dozen? -  in a moment in which you both disagree, or if you upset her in some way. But know this, it doesn't matter who is right, respect her - always.

When I was fourteen, my father and I gained a habit of hanging out on the stoop after he came home from work. In one of those many summer hangouts, I remember him telling me "your mother is the toughest woman I know". I still hear him saying that in my head with that awesome Caribbean accent (no worries - you'll get it too) every time I see my mother do these absurd things a nearing 70 year old woman shouldn't (i.e. when I visited her the day after you were born, she was on a ladder sanding and painting a section of a hallway ceiling).

But she's good at that - taking care of my father at this stage of his life - with his current illness, or anything and everything to pick up whatever slack there is in life. She's loving, self-less to an absolute fault, so emotional, worries wayyyyy too much, but she's tough. So incredibly tough and resilient. And once again, loving.

That description is your mom. I see a lot of my mom in her. And hopefully, God-willing, you'll have the opportunity to make those comparisons for yourself one day.

However, in closing, I'm so incredibly happy you're here. You made this post from a usual twenty minute endeavor into 90 minute-long process by needing your pacifier every time you lost it, but that's okay. Mom went through 36+ hours of pain, agony, and most of all, toughness, to get you here. I can certainly spare a few minutes to simply keep you happy.

Welcome to the world, Ace. Can't wait to live it with you.

And remember, 36+ hours. THIRTY-SIX-PLUS. Respect her. Always. Seriously, always.

Sincerely,

Your over-the moon Dad

Recently Read

Dear Son, Big Fan of the Kid Turning Seven

---7 Years Old --- Dear Son,  It’s been a while since I’ve dropped a few thoughts. Forgive me, I’ve just been watching. Just observing. Taking it all in. Trying to be a good dad. I’m punching the keys today from one of your martial arts practices. It’s your second with “the big kids” and also the second time I’ve found myself watching from the sidelines with anxiety, with pride, and with likely my biggest fandom for you yet in this space. My feelings are much more than you playing baseball or coaching you in basketball. Your disposition is different. Your excellence is different in this space. With martial arts, you stay diligent with the process. Respectful. Working hard. Getting better. In competition with and respecting the older kids you are training with. That’s what I’ve enjoyed. It encapsulates everything you’ve grown into thus far. Still empathetic as ever, but adding an element of self-ambition and drive - something I’ve prided myself on - and to see you mature into this m...

Working in Higher Ed, Lately

"Working in higher education must be interesting these days, huh?" That question was posed to me by several people who recently learned that I worked in higher education. The recent discourse around the industry and field has certainly shifted in narrative and the overall feel within it. I recently wrapped up my fourteenth (!!) academic year. It's remarkable to think that I've been serving students and following a passion for this long. This is especially the case considering the rising turnover, the documented yearly burnout, and the increasing exodus from the field.  And, yup, there is that whole enrollment cliff combined with the politics that are more present than ever on college campuses.  So yeah, higher education is weird right now. Very weird.  Some quick thoughts : IS IT TIME?  Yes, I have thought about leaving the field several times. Especially, over the last few years. COVID didn't really bother me, but it's safe to say that the world of higher edu...

Quick Ponder: Future Self

We always think,  what would we say  to our  younger self? However,  what would  our younger self say  if they met us, today?