I'd like to apologize in advance because I'm going to wrong you. As sure as I know anything I know that when it comes to the task of raising a son, I will fail. You need a certain type of man to teach you the things necessary to find peace in your life. In moments when I feel the most intellectually sober I realize that I just don't have what it takes.
I thought about this today as I held your hands and let you walk upright across the floor. You chirped and growled as we made our way from one end of the room to the other.
You were feeling big and I was feeling small.
The absurdity of the moment was not lost to me. I was your strength for you are not yet strong enough to carry yourself. I was also your confidence for you showed no fear. In that moment, I was able to meet every one of your blossoming needs and my heart whimpered a wish for it to always be.
So tonight as I confess to you for future, nameless wrongs that I will undoubtedly feel powerless to circumvent, I want to also issue you a prayer disguised as a promise.
I will never stop trying.
You and your sisters and your Mommy deserve more than I have the capacity to produce most days. And while I cannot manufacture something that isn't there, I can lean hard in the direction of something that is. First, recognition of my condition and second, the raw and unfettered determination that is growing in me to prove myself wrong.
I love you, son.