My first week alone

Dearest Sunniva,

My nature blog has become an homage to you; a place to record milestones in your life as well as my thoughts and feelings (when I have the time) on becoming a father. You and your mom have been in Haugesund this week, and it has been very difficult to be without you both. We all flew over together last Friday and had a very pleasant weekend with Mormor, Morfar and Tante Kathrine (and visits with the Børtveits and Edvardsens) but I had to return to Drammen on Sunday night in order to work this week.

Saying goodbye to you for the first time ever simply overwhelmed me. All day long I was ill at ease, and when it finally came time to kiss you on the forehead one last time and wave goodbye (you're just learning how to wave now, and to stretch your arms out lovingly, inquisitively, to us) the floodgates broke and I ended up crying all the way to the airport, a good twenty minutes. I couldn't - didn't - want to speak, not even when Mommy asked me to.

I was full of a mess of feelings - sadness, loneliness, emptiness, regret, longing, nostalgia - and as has been the case throughout your entire first year of life, the lack of sleep magnifies everything and tends to make reactions stronger. Not that I have the right to talk about lack of sleep, as the sacrifices your mother has made night and day for you dwarf my contributions, and she's the one who deserves eternal recognition and gratitude for all her hard work, love, patience and care.

Despite my shortcomings, your reflux, teething (seven!), and not yet sleeping through the night we have had the most wonderful time since you came into our lives ten and a half months ago. You are without a doubt the greatest gift we could ever have, and you have changed us, enriched us, educated us, and most of all, entertained us with your charmingly hesitant laugh (ever bolder now), your quickness to learn, your burgeoning language (Ma-ma! Pa-pa! Gugg! Baum! Di!) and your unfettered joy at discovering yourself and your surroundings.

We are so thankful to have such a beautiful baby daughter, our Gentle Seen, for whom we would do anything and everything. As I reflect now on our week apart, I am filled with renewed energy and determination to be there for you, to be present with you, to listen to you, talk with you, sing with you, play the guitar and banjo and piano and harmonica and Tanzanian whistle with you, watch you clap and wave and crawl and grow more and more into your own person every day. I've put together some new furniture for your from while you've been away, so I hope you like what you see when you come home tomorrow!

Love,
Daddy (Pa-pa!)