January 20, 2026
Dear Sophia,
Since you were born I have had a pep in my step. I wondered if this might be temporary, an obvious common reaction to the birth of a child. But sometimes I wonder if it might be true that while I lack a talent for happiness, I can be driven and given purpose by meaning.
I’m singing more than I have since my karaoke phase before and after my mother’s death.
Your mom thought you were congested and was very concerned. Pediatrician said it was normal.
You reached 7 pounds and 4 ounces today. That’s two more ounces than when you were born, and you did it by day nine. We were told that it usually takes about two weeks to come back to birthweight, so you are a little star.
Your mom still needs help getting in and out of the bed and car, on and off the toilet, up or down stairs. She can’t bend down at all. I help her in and out of bed. I’m bringing her meals in bed.
January 23, 2026
Dear Sophia,
Your Uncle Adam asked how Leah, your mother, is.
Leah is sleepless → hyper vigilant → sleepless → anxious → disconnected → guilty
She feels as she did in college when she was anxious and sleepless.
It’s time to record the various nicknames we’ve thrown out for you. In approximate order of appearance:
- Bippity-bopp
- Hiccup. On my chest the morning after birth.
- Little Burrito. After the first swaddle.
- Little Tomato
- Peanut
- Sweet Pea
- Pumpkinhead
- Little Miss Blowout
- Shitstorm. Like a superhero character.
- Squeaky. My third dog was named Squeaky. A fierce Chihuahua mix.
That’s all for now.
Love,
Dad
