Dear Peanut,

So now, you’re out into the world. You were delivered via emergency caesarian section due to the shit that you have ingested while your mother was in labor. But at least everything is fine and you’re healthy in general.

It’s just everything we have planned for the pregnancy when completely south. We were hoping for a normal delivery without a hitch but it seems Murphy’s Law is strong in this case.

During the first night, it took some time before you were roomed-in with us since the medical staff was still making sure that everything was fine due to the shit-eating incident. Yes, you’re never going to hear the end of it, like, for all eternity.

You finally moved-in with us after 4 or 5 hours since ‘baby out’. Your mother was down and recuperating and really couldn’t do much. Guess who was left with the task of doing everything? Yeah, it was me.

Generally, it was fine as it was just mainly the simple tasks and chores like buying stuff, checking with doctors and nurses, and signing documents.  That was during the day but night time was a different story since I was in charge of two persons.

I really don’t have any experience in taking care of children. Even way back when someone I know has babies. I don’t really try to touch and carry them since I’m afraid that I might accidentally hurt them. That or the parents just don’t want me to touch their babies.

Anyway, with you, on the other hand, I really don’t have much choice. When you cry during the night at the hospital, I had to carry you in my arms and you were so tiny then. Almost just as big as my forearm.  I need to rock you to sleep.  I was scared at first but I quickly got the hang of it and as your mother said, I’m the real postnatal MVP.

Damn straight, I am. Welcome to fatherhood Commander.

Regards,