Dalbin Osorio
Sep 3, 2018 · 3 min read

#DiaryOfANewDad Month One

I cannot believe it’s been one month since you came into this world, and just how quickly you became the center of it. You have the most soothing laugh, which in turn makes me laugh, and you have inherited your Dad’s calming spirit. It’s nice to have two calming presences in the house when your Momma and Puppy Brother are super anxious about, well, everything. I love our late night conversations: during these formative years, it’s my hope that I can teach you different ways of getting your point across so that you can stand up for yourself differently. You’ll be a woman in what I hope is a more inclusive world, but just in case progress is a little slow over these next two decades I want you to be prepared. That’s why I talk a lot, in case you were curious.

I’ve noticed that you respond to soft music, but not really hip-hop, and that’s been super surprising because your dad used to be a rapper. I was looking forward to playing you some of my music, but it seems you prefer the soothing sounds of Demi Lovato’s sober over Gucci Mane. We do tummy time with you, and I’m amazed at how advanced you are. You do things a kid typically isn’t supposed to do at one month, and you’re so alert, which is so great. You amaze me every day to be honest, and every little thing you do feels like you’re doing it for the first time even if it’s really not. I hate missing time with you when I’m at work, by the way, but your Mom sends me pictures and that makes it ok I guess. No, no it doesn’t, because I still miss you.

This month has gone by so fast, and I look at the picture of you when you were first born and compare it to now and I’m flabbergasted at how much you’ve grown. Your hair is thicker, and you’re taller, and we now know your angry cry. You cry and you make noises and you laugh and you play with Brotis and you eat and you poop and then you do it all over again, all while fending off the FaceTimes of judgmental relatives that think they know best about how you should be raised. You live a hard life Babygirl. We took you outside for the first time yesterday, and you slept through all of it: Brotis kept trying to see if you would wake up, but upon realizing you wouldn’t he just fell asleep too. You didn’t get to see the world, but it’s a scary place right now. There’s some good out there though: we met a girl named Addie and her mom, and they seemed nice. You’ll see. It isn’t so bad sometimes.

You’ve focused me in a way nothing else had before, and it’s been humbling to say the least. Being your dad is the best job I’ve ever had, because the pay and benefits are great and there is a generous affection policy. You smile when you see me, which lets me know that you’re at least excited that I made it back home. I work with kids, I told you before, who are older than you and who have way bigger things to deal with. So, I help them and then come home and hang out with you. It’s a pretty sweet gig, all things considered. You love the rockers your grandma and your aunt bought you, and you have so many other toys that we haven’t even gotten to. People have showered you win gifts, a lot of clothes and shoes like the little Fashionista you are, and yet i feel like I should be thanking you for letting me be your dad.

Thank you Leah Cristina. You’re my legacy, and I’m excited to see you change the world you’re now the center of.

Dalbin Osorio

Written by

Social Worker, Organizer, Advocate www.dalbinosorio.com

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