All Things Written

All The Things I Want To Tell You

Month: October 2018

Baby Boy

You’re my second child, my baby boy. Loving you is terrifying.

Exhaustion blankets me today. We’re working on sleep training you, a concept I’m struggling to follow. Hearing you cry creates anguish filling and consuming me.

Perhaps it’s out of my conscious control. I once read an article in The Atlantic about the biochemical changes that take place in a new mothers brain. The studies of various neurologists found the way a mother reacts to her child directly after birth is correlated with the biochemical reactions taking place in her brain just before and subsequent to birth. The regions of the brain most effected control emotions like anxiety and empathy.

It’s clear a new mother’s brain is chemically altered in order to attain hypersensitivity to her child’s needs. It’s likely this contributes to my anguish when letting you cry. It never lasts too long, I can’t stand it. Instead many times I bounce you until you stop crying, until your eyes close, until you fall asleep.

Bouncing you I notice your eyelashes, so long but straight, just like mine. I fade in and out of conscious thought. It could take anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes for you to finally fall asleep. My back hurts as I bounce, bounce, bounce you on the yoga ball I bought on Amazon before I had you, not knowing just how much I’d actually use it. 49, 50, 51, 52, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce… then through the heavy weight of your eyes closing my fatigued mind assembles a thought.  It whispers, “you’ll miss this one day.” The moments I can provide you a place to rest and know with certainty you’re ok.

Aubrey Cofield 

You Need To Know

You need to know I love you. Every part of you. Even the parts I said I hated yesterday. At my worst I’ll take you down, picking at everything you do; articulating every annoyance. This is why it’s essential you read this over and over again. Because I’m no good at apologizing like you are. It takes all my strength to release grip on the part of myself that knows I was wrong, that knows yelling out, “I’m leaving you” for the 30th time still hurts and I need to evaluate what I say before I say it. If I believed in soulmates, you’d be mine.

Knowing you meant stepping into a greater variant of myself. You make me better by simply believing I am good. You challenge the fragile parts of my brain and help grow them stronger. You are a servant before anything. A servant to Christ, to me, to your sons. You lead with a servant heart. I believe there’s no greater example of leadership than this. I love you for the way you love others. I love every quirk, every nuisance, yes, even your lack of shame and the chronic flatulence that goes along with it.

There’s something tremendous about feeling understood. You understand me deeply. You understand much of my irritation uttered is really just an empty stomach needing sustenance… RIGHT NOW. You oblige, taking my anger lightly as you hand me an egg-roll. You understand I find more joy reading to you on a Friday night than going out, and so you don’t just let me read out loud but you listen, you really listen, and I love you for that. I love the way fatherhood compliments, and in some ways reveals, fascists of your personality. You accept defeat like any good teacher or guardian keeping an open heart, growing and making changes as needed.

You are a kind human despite the demons you wrestle with.

When we first started dating you said the thing you fear the most is yourself. I don’t know which self you meant. Maybe the self that had a smoking addiction? The self that lacked a stable father figure? The self that slept around? The bullied self? The emotional self? All of it? I hope you rest easy now knowing the pain that once haunted you, beautifully becomes you. A you I love. A you known. A you who is, among many things, a good man.

Aubrey Cofield


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