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Update: Read my poem to our daughter, here. 

It’s a girl!

Willa Goodall Lewis is our Thanksgiving blessing.

Mom & baby are healthy and in love.

And I’m a father.

I’m a father.

Took me long enough.

As I’ve written before, I had never found someone with whom I was confident I could navigate ups and downs and lefts and rights and ins and outs of everyday life, before. Life, even when it is good and new and exciting, is hard. Particularly leaving my friends, home sweet home, community, the mountains, my lifelong sangha…everything. A community that even from afar is supporting our hearts during this pregnancy, move, and birth.

But, as I’ve written about elsewhere, meditation and couple’s counseling help. Coming back to our foundational love and friendship, through hard communication, helps.

Among other challenges, our ethics around animals and therefore meals, three times a day, no longer align.

So life is always going to be full of challenges, for us, for you, for everyone—and the only guarantee is that honesty, caring, presence (ie, being present in this moment, appreciative, awake), mutual service, and humor or good heart can help us through.

As our powerful midwife hollered during Kelsey’s amazing delivery, “the only way out is through!”

So, I’ve buried the lede.

We have a beautiful daughter.

Kelsey, dear momma, is staring and cuddling at our daughter with so much love, cuddling and nursing her. The little one, so far, is sleeping well, and mainly just hungry (she was born healthy and light, so she’s hungrrry).

We did a home birth, after many months of meeting with our midwives team, and we additionally hired a birth doula (who also took photos). The process was simple, direct, human. The delivery itself, in our new home, was wonderful. While giving birth is of course…all the things…Kelsey was able to do so in her own home, on our bed, with a water birth available and surrounded by helpers she knew and had chosen. We had a little help for Leo, so he had someone to play with and could meet the baby, his sister (!), shortly after the birth, once everyone was ready. We also hired a chef who focuses on meals for mothers, and she tried to do zero waste for us, though mostly meat and all that. Our few friends (I’m new here, Kelsey knows more folks but spent covid here, which wasn’t particularly social) have been showing up for us, remarkably—bringing us warm meals and groceries and bananas and other favorites for Leo and coconut water and all the things. So Leo, me, Kelsey most importantly, and baby through mama, are all well nourished.

Me, I’m 51. To become a parent, a father, at 51…is both heart-opening and magically ordinary. I feel like she’s always been here, in a way, or that I already know her, or that she just fits in with our family. Whatever is going on, it feels seamless. As long as Kelsey and I can relate to each other with love and good communication, I’m happy. Even if I’m not happy, I’m happy to be helping with Leo (we’re hanging out watching Scooby Doo and I’m working on now-his / my old antique lion bed with Winnie napping under Leo’s arm, right now. It’s bed time for both of us, and I’m exhausted, though I haven’t of course done 1/100th what Kelsey has, I’ll fall into a dark deep hole of sleep the moment I close my eyes.

I’ve been busy coordinating everything and serving Kelsey, getting our home ready (the night when contractions started, I’d just spent 5 hours, again, with a handyman going through the house getting pictures hung, bookshelves up, doors fixed, windows fixed, etc), seeing my finances torn apart by two homes and this move away from my home sweet home, which I hope to spend a few months a year in and visiting over the next years. We’ll see!

As I think about the joy of being a father, something I’ve long wanted to be, and a husband in love, something I’ve long wanted to be, I’m reminded of the vital lesson that, as the Buddha taught, life is suffering.

Like Carpe Diem, this isn’t all bad news. It means life is finite, and precious, and should be used to be of benefit to others.

It’s good news and bad news, both. The good news is we can experience love, we can learn and improve our hearts and caring and service to this planet and animals…the bad news is life is short, and as humans we are gifted with tender, oft broken hearts. Life is hard, even if it looks pretty in Instagram photos. Life is fun and sweet, even if those fun and sweet moments aren’t ever recorded.

Today I got to nap deeply, so tired, beside Kelsey and baby, also napping. Probably the highlight of this magical day full of learning and a few wipes (all cotton) and diapers (eco, then reusable once baby is big enough). I got to zoom call with my mom, and she got to send her love to Kelsey and meet her granddaughter, Willa. The day before, we facetimed with Kelsey’s family, all joyful smiles. Folks ask how I am—I just say I’m grateful mom and baby are both healthy. Gratitude is joy, is presence, is a full life, fully felt.

Willa Goodall Lewis, you’re so beautiful and your sweet coos go straight to my heart. I love your little fingers and toes and your little knees and your little hose, your blond hair, your little back, all of you. I can’t wait to get to know you more. For now, my job is to serve momma and keep everything out here working and running. So in that spirit, it’s time for bed, to get Leo to bed, and here’s hoping for a night of (mostly) sleep.