Dear Claire: Our First Night Apart

Dear Claire,

There’s a part of becoming a parent that no one can fully prepare you for — the way your heart suddenly belongs in two places at once.

The night you were born, I followed you to the NICU, not fully knowing what to expect. The moment we arrived, the room came alive with motion. Nurses, doctors, monitors — it felt like a carefully practiced routine, but my heart was anything but calm.

I stood there quietly as they worked around you, each person focused, each task precise. They were drawing blood, placing IVs, and setting up the monitors that would become part of our daily soundtrack. You looked so small, yet even then, you carried a strength that filled the room.

I wanted to stay by your side, every second. I wanted to let you know, somehow, that I was there — even if you couldn’t quite see me yet. But there were other worries pulling at me too. Your mom had just been through so much to bring you safely into the world. She needed me, too.

That first night, we didn’t sleep.

I went back and forth, my mind racing with questions that no one could answer. Was everything going to be okay? Were we going to be okay? Fear and hope seemed to trade places with every passing moment.

And even though I felt uncertain, I kept telling myself something that every new parent, at some point, has to learn: just keep going. One small step at a time.

Looking back, I realize that’s exactly what we did. It wasn’t graceful, and it wasn’t easy. But in that first night apart from you, we started figuring out how to hold it all — the fear, the hope, the love that kept growing with every breath you took.

That night taught me something I’ll carry with me always: our hearts may be pulled in different directions, but they are always, always with you.

Love always,
Dad