Betterness by Kawika Holbrook

Through the Looking Glass

Sloan needed her rest, so we just spent this evening watching her.

To My Daughter on Her Care

Dear Sloan,

We leave you each night in the care of kind and gentle nurses. It is hard for us to go when you are awake, but we know you need time to sleep and grow. You have a good home for now in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at the Kaiser Permanente Santa Clara Medical Center. In addition to all the nurses and doctors, each preterm baby there has a case worker. Yours was kind enough to write us a progress report on June 23. I'm saving it here so our family and friends can learn more about how you're doing. They are so kind to us, but we can't always write or call them with updates about you. I want you to know that, next to your health and own happiness, keeping friends and family in your heart is more important than anything else in the world.

Best Father's Day ever (even if it was my first)

Held my daughter for the first time on a few hours ago. Definitely the best gift Father's Day gift I have ever received. Okay, it was my first Father's Day. Still, my daughter is practically glowing with pride for her dad.

(The bili light is a phototherapy tool to treat newborn jaundice, called hyperbilirubinemia, which was a symptom of Sloan's early delivery. It's working.)

To My Daughter on Life's Plans

Your mom is resting right now in a part of the hospital called "Mother/Baby." This is where both moms and newborns recover from the hard work of birth together. Moms learn how to feed their babies, change their diapers, and hold them tight to keep them safe and make them happy.

I hear baby noises in the other rooms. I see families hugging happy dads in hallways. The smell of talcum powder floats from somewhere. New parents are kissing their babies and stroking their faces. After a day or two, they pack everything up and go home together.

But you and your mom aren't in the same room. The two of you have only been together a few times so far. Your doctors say that stroking your cheek or playing with your fingers will hurt you right now. Everyone congratulates us on your arrival, but the timing seems a bit off.

Your mom's friends and family didn't have time to throw her a baby shower. She didn't have time to build a nursery. She didn't get to see her belly grow big like other moms. And, even though it's not her fault, she feels as if she did something wrong because you couldn't stay inside her even one more day.

Despite all of this, last night your mom saw that I was very tired. She told me to go home and sleep in our bed.

I was sad to leave her alone for the night. I dropped off a small bottle of her milk for you at the NICU and said goodnight. As I bent down to kiss the glass of your isolette, you opened your eyes a bit and reached out with your tiny, tiny hand. I didn't want to leave you alone with all the wires and tubes and monitors and scary beeping noises, but I promised your mom I would get some rest and I know your nurses take good care of you.

So I left the hospital and went home. I even left our wonderful dog overnight at a kennel.

But I couldn't sleep. Instead, I thought about everything you and your mom did not get to have. I decided to play some music, hoping it might make me feel better. I played your mom's favorite song, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. It always makes her cry and smile at the same time.

I played a song John Lennon wrote to his son, explaining that "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." And I played a song by The Rolling Stones called "You Can't Always Get What You Want," where they reminded me that if I try, I might just get what I need.

That's all I remember before falling asleep.

It's morning, now. The sun is shining through the blinds. The time is later than I wanted, but I feel better now.

See, you're going to grow. Your mom will get her shower. The nursery will be built. In time, we'll get to kiss your face and play with your fingers and put you in a stroller to take you home and get to do everything else parents get to do.

And there won't be a single day for the rest of my life that I won't look in the mirror and see the luckiest husband and father in the whole wide world. Because with you and your mom, I have everything I need.

Love,

Dad

To My Daughter on Her Name

Your mother got to see you for the first time yesterday afternoon, and she cried. That made me happy. I know this sounds odd, but I think you'll understand in time.

Your mom was getting medicine that made her sleepy, so she couldn't spend much time with you before going back to her hospital room. In that short time, though, she fell in love.

Your mom saw herself in your face. That made me very happy, because I think she is beautiful.

Late last night, she was able to make the tiniest amount of food for you, which the doctors say will be good for her and good for you. We came to visit one more time with a surprise called "kangarooing." Very slowly, and with a lot of care, your nurse removed you from your isolette and laid you on top of your mom's chest.

For the next two hours, your skin touched her skin. You look at your mom. "She's so tiny," your mom told me. "I didn't know it would be like this."

She was scared. That didn't last long, though, because "skin to skin" made both of you feel better. You stopped fussing and she started beaming. I saw joy wash over her like a warm shower. When you open your eyes to look up at her, everything was right with the world.

You may be tiny, but you're also strong. "She's a trooper," your nurse said. "She's a fighter," your mom's doctor said. "She'll battle through this just like her mother is doing," two friends said.

And that helped us decide your name.

Before she married me, your mom's last name was "Sloan." She liked it very much, and trading it for my last name wasn't easy. In Irish, "Sloane" means warrior. Sloan is a shorter version of that.

So, because you'll need all the strength you can get. And because you're mom's family name means so much to her. And because I thought of it first (ha ha), your first name will be Sloan. It's a good name, and I hope you like it.

We also get to give you a middle name, too. I grew up in Hawaii. My first name, Kawika, is Hawaiian. Everyone loves Hawaii. They are they most beautiful chain of islands in the world. In Hawaiian, "Kai" means sea and "Lani" means heaven or sky. "Kailani," then, seemed only fitting for you because we could search heaven and earth -- or sail the seven seas -- and still not find a daughter better for us than you.

Welcome to the world, Sloan Kailani Holbrook. Get ready for a great adventure.

Love,
Dad

To My Daughter on Her Birth Day

I can't wait for you to meet your mother. She's recovering in the ICU. You're in the NICU, tucked in an isolette, with lots of doctors and nurses to make sure you're comfortable (and me, too -- it's kind of overwhelming to see all the monitors, tubes, and wires all over the two of you).

You came into our lives a couple of months early, and —- to be honest -- we weren't really prepared. We don't even have a name for you yet. Maybe once mom gets to see you in person she'll like what I have in mind.

I named this place "Betterness" a long time ago, not truly sure what the name was supposed to mean. An ironic commentary on life? Storage for the stuff that I found interesting? Thinking aloud to understand myself? Perhaps. But after today, I think I have a much better idea. I'll write more about this soon.

Meanwhile, stay warm, be nice to your nurses, and get ready for a big, wonderful life. I'll see you in the morning.

Love,

Dad