January 16, 2026
Dear Sophia,
I was looking at you today and I imagined calling you by the term of endearment a few people in my mother’s life called her. In fact, the only time I ever called her that or can even recall anyone calling her that was when she was dying, and I was so moved that I used that term of endearment, which is also a diminitive.
There is something about the feeling of coming full-circle — the story of it. The story of my mother not being able to be here to meet you, and to see me so happy, and the story of my calling you by the same endearment I once used with her. It brought tears to my eyes.
* * *
Today as we put you in the car seat on the way to see the newborn nurse, you began to cry and cry and became so disregulated (a word your mother introduced to my life) that you could not seem to stop. You cried in a sort of wail that turned into a quavering, the first part shocking my nervous system and the second part breaking my heart.
I’m hoping that you don’t develop a fear of car seats or cars or travel. We drove for many miles before you began to calm down. Perhaps it was your mother soothing you with her voice and with her hand stroking the spot behind your ears where your vagus nerve can be found. Or perhaps it was also the movement of the car itself.
* * *
You look in our direction but it’s clear you can’t see us. You can’t focus, can’t make out what’s in your visual field. So you look out into the world uncomprehendingly. You don’t even turn your head toward sounds yet. But someday, much like consciousness must have first appeared on earth, you will look up or turn around and look at us and we will be able to see for the first time that you know what you are seeing. I now know that for a parent, that moment will be like a sun coming up, or a star forming.
You will see us looking at you, and you’ll react to what you see in our faces, showing us that you see us, and vice versa. I can understand why parents might say that is one of the most powerful moments in the universe.
Whether I am walking and bending and straightening with you in a carrier on my chest or changing your diaper, you grunt or wheeze or make a little peep with every movement. Like an old man, you think every bodily movement must be accompanied by a sound.
Love,
Dad
[Photo is AI-generated and only generally looks like Sophia.]
