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You’re five hours old.
It’s the middle of the night, and you’re both sleeping, you laid flat on her chest with your tiny hand outstretched over her exhausted face. I can’t imagine how tired she must be, you as well, and I don’t begrudge you this sleep. You've both earned it for what you've just given me. The fatigue is creeping up on me too, but how could I leave this moment? My family just grew from two to three – my beautiful wife Catra joined by my perfect child, Finn – and I don’t want to miss out on a single second.
I hear the rain hammering against the window; it must be awful to be outside on a night like this. The weather is the furthest thing from my mind, though, here in this eerily quiet hospital suite where we've been for what feels like days. But a torrential downpour has nothing on you, my incredible baby. If the world saw you, saw how special, how flawless you are, I have no doubt the skies would dry instantly, greeting the morning with a beautiful rainbow. How could anyone feel this life is anything but perfect when you are in it?
My mind starts to wonder – who will you be? You’ve a whole life ahead of you, Finn, and the universe is a blank canvas to be painted with your unique existence. Me and your mother, we didn’t get this chance, not until we were adults and our destines were laid out for us. Neither of us followed them. You’ll learn that about your mums as you grow up – we didn’t, couldn’t, walk along the path people expected us to; we chose love. But we chose it much later than we should have.
We didn’t let ourselves dream at first, I don’t think we knew how to. Life was tough, we were expected to do as we were told and make sure our aspirations matched exactly those of the people who were telling us what to do. There was no room for ambition beyond climbing the ranks and doing as we were told by ever more powerful people. But that’s gone now, Finn, that’s no more. Your dreams can start today, your hopes and fears, your desires… they begin now, baby. Your mind is so beautifully pure right now, unsullied by harsh reality, and that gives you more freedom than anyone else in the world.
I love you.
You’re three months old.
Winter has set in, and the three of us are together in our tiny cottage. The smell of our dinner lingers in the air, along with the sweet, smokey odour from the fire that's keeping us warm despite the efforts of the skies outside. It’s cosy, especially on these cold, snowy evenings with the wind howling through the valley outside. But the noise of those gusts is silence compared to your crying.
Catra has walked back into the room with her eyes mirroring yours, the patchy sleep we’ve been getting over the last few weeks making everything seem ten times as difficult, ten times as painful. “Your turn”, she tells me, and I kiss her on the forehead as she slumps into an armchair, totally defeated by you.
I enter the bedroom, the now familiar rhythm and cadence of your desperate screams are almost background noise, I’ve been hearing them that long. I wish I could explain to you that nothing is wrong, you are safe here with us, but you aren’t driven by reason, are you? Everything you do, every wail, every giggle, every little noise you make comes from your feelings and your feelings alone. It makes it so genuine, so authentic, because you have no hidden meaning behind these screams, no secondary motivation. In a way, I admire you for that – adult life is plagued by second-guessing and searching for people's true intentions. But everything you do is pure, everything you do is real.
I pick you up and let you fall gently onto my shoulder. It immediately silences you, and I can’t help but start to smile, because I feel the same way; to hold you is to hold hope, to hold the universe in one arm. I find myself thinking back to that first night, wondering what you will be – am I now cradling a more talented scientist than Entrapta? Am I holding something with an even greater compassion for others than Scorpia? Is that a more captivating performer than Double Trouble gently gumming at the shoulder of my jacket?
I hold you like that for a long time, gently bouncing you up and down on my arm, because I don’t want to let go. But I know I must – sleep calls to all of us, and I see your heavy eyelids slowly blinking at me as I lay you back in your crib. You smile back at me and the warmth I feel could melt the snow outside. I’m about to leave to fetch Catra, let her known we can attempt sleep now you're pacified, but something stops me. There’s a tiny gap between the curtains across the window which the moon is shining through, and the light perfectly catches your eye. I see its reflection in the azure of your eyes; it scatters around them, like tiny stars, and it looks as though there’s an entire universe contained within them. And maybe there is.
I love you.
You’re four years old.
I can’t imagine life without you now; it’s as though the time before you were born was another lifetime, a shared dream your mother and I have. Every time I look at you though, even now as you’re chasing Mermista’s kid around a park yelling gleefully, I get that same shiver of wonder that happened the first time I laid eyes on you. It hasn’t ever stopped, Finn, it probably never will. You make me feel such pride with every second of your existence. How could someone like me be so lucky as to create something so perfect?
You’re a force of nature, though. Fearless. I’ve been watching you order the older kids around, telling them that they’re playing whatever game you’ve made up and not giving them any choice but to join in. I think you get that from Catra, she always did the same at that age. You’re so creative too, always entertaining yourself and others by dressing up and acting out little stories that bring smiles to the faces of everyone who watches. That might be your Auncle DT’s influence there, but I don’t begrudge that when it gives you an incredible power – the power to create happiness in people. This world had been without happiness for so long, and now here you are, a wave of pure joy ready to wash over our tiny planet.
You run up to me, and I instinctively take hold of your hands as you arrive. When you’re stood and I’m sat like this, our eyes are level and I’m utterly rapt. You're saying my name over and over, but I can't even part my lips to respond. Your eyes are deepest blue, like the purest ocean, and I can’t help myself but get lost swimming in them. I see the spark in them; you’ve never lost that from the first time you opened them, and I pray you never will. It’s the spark of a dreamer, someone who will change the world one day – although maybe you already have. You’ve changed my world.
Keep on dreaming, baby, and don’t ever let anyone stop you. I love you.