Our Christmas card this year didn’t quite make it in the mail. So I’ll let Matthew make his first appearance on the blog. You’ll find his letter below:
Before I was a dad, I remember trying to act interested any time proud mothers and fathers would show pictures of their kids to me on their phone. I’d force a grin, “he/she is very cute…” My wife and I have been parents for 14 months now. I can’t pull out my phone fast enough to show off pictures of Maxwell. The other day I was doing some Christmas shopping in Boulder, CO while Max and Elisabeth were in TN getting ready for her brother Seth’s wedding. My phone’s background image is a photo of Elisabeth holding our son. Elisabeth is looking radiant. Max is looking adorable. I must have shown that picture to five or six store clerks. I’d walk into a toy store or clothing store, describe a little what I was looking to buy and then proudly display that picture on my phone. “I’m buying for these guys!” At work, it’s the same. I’m showing off Max pictures and Max videos. I’m recounting Max stories.
This is new for me. Before Max, I’d only ever taken pride in things that I felt that I had accomplished. I can’t say I really had much to do with accomplishing Max. If anyone deserves the credit for accomplishing him, its Elisabeth. Beyond carrying him for 36 weeks, each and every day Max is now her focus. It’s incredible to watch. She is there at 6:00 AM when he wakes up. She is there, crafting three nutritious meals and two snacks with carefully selected items for a complete diet. She is there tenderly rocking him to sleep for two naps and at bedtime. And in between? Undivided attention. We love our Denver suburb where she and Max can walk to the local library, pediatrician’s office, Chipotle, and this little gymnastics gym where he runs around the padded floor and flops over doing “forward roles.” There are trips to the Denver zoo. Trips to Trader Joes where Elisabeth picks out ingredients for all those carefully crafted meals. All along making sure Max’s needs are always attended to. Always making sure he is taken care of first. Her last.
My small contribution is bath time. I love bath time! I come home from work around 6:30. While I thoroughly enjoy learning the intricacies of cornea surgery at the university of Colorado, my favorite part is walking into our small fourth floor apartment. Sometimes Max comes out to greet me. He’s walking pretty well these day, but still in a manner that resembles a tiny drunk person. We eat dinner then it’s off to the bathtub where him and I play in our world of boats and ducks and with this tiny wind-up submarine that I send flying around the tub. He giggles as he tries to sink it with his tiny hands.
It was during bath time that I first noticed it. It’s a certain kind of smile. He was about 6 months of age when he started doing it. We will be in the middle of playing sink-the-sub. And he will just pause. Then he will look up at me and grin. And he will hold the gaze for just a moment. I smile back. In this moment there is a silent recognition between the two of us. A recognition that there is no place on earth we would rather be. There is nothing else we would rather be doing then playing together. Spending time together.
Then we are off to story time where he sees how fast he can turn the pages to his “Goodnight Memphis” book. (A book that my wife and I always read with fondness since we moved from our home there in June). Then prayer time. My wife rocks him to sleep and he rests his head safely and securely in the bend of her left arm. He smiles and grins and babbles at her until he falls asleep and she places him in the crib. She will do it all again in the morning. I often hear her exclaim, “I missed you while you were sleeping!”
Thanks for taking a moment to read about our day. Every one of you is very special to our family, and this Christmas we want to say thank you for your love and support. This summer, we will be moving to Nashville where I’ll start work with a private practice. Though we will miss Colorado, we look forward to being closer to our friends and family and hope that you all will have a part in helping Maxwell grow up.
Love,
-Matt, Elisabeth, and Max
