If you scroll through my phone far enough,
you will find my early days as a father.
Not just in photos and videos.
In searches.
“Is this breathing normal?”
Typed in the dark.
With one eye open.
Holding my breath
while watching his.
Relief lasts a few minutes.
Then I check again.
“How long can a baby sleep without feeding?”
Translation:
Is this a blessing,
or am I about to mess this up?
I read three articles.
All disagree.
“Why is my baby making this sound?”
Every noise feels like a message.
Every message feels urgent.
Either way, I panic first.
“Normal baby poop color chart.”
No poetry here.
Just survival.
Couple of months in,
this is what fatherhood looks like.
Curiosity.
Checking.
Caring enough to ask.
Quiet love.
It looks like dim screens at 2 a.m.
Whispered searches.
Held breaths.
It looks like wanting to get it right
for someone who cannot yet tell you
if you are.
I do not have all the answers.
But my search history proves something.
I am trying.
Every night.
Every doubt.
Every question.
And for now,
that feels like a good place to start.