First entry

At the moment, I have no friends here. Probably that will change. For the moment, I'll talk to myself.

The most important thing happening in my life at the moment is another
person. My wife's and my first child will be arriving the first week of
August, more or less, if all goes well. We plan to name her Zoe Mury
Johnson. Zoe is of Greek origin and means "Life". Mury is her mother's
grandfather's last name. He was Swiss, and I wish I had met him, but he
died years before Carolina and I met. He was one of those people who
takes the pain from previous generations and, instead of passing it
down, absorbs it and passes down love instead. I really wish I'd met
him. If anything of us survives death, maybe I will, some day, in a
way. Meanwhile I love the part of him that lives in your mom.

If I manage to journal regularly here, I'd like to write regularly to
Zoe to welcome her to the world. I'd like to start introducing her
daddy and her daddy's family to her. Maybe someday she'll be able
to read what I was thinking as she was forming.

So, Zoe, welcome to God Knows What. I can't say I understand where you
came from--I don't even understand where I came from. Oh, sure, I know
all of that biology stuff. I know the stories people tell about the
real question--where our consciousness comes from. But, my dear, I
simply have no answers for you about why you're here. Except that your
Mom and I love each other, and we want someone to share that with. At
least, that's my answer--you'd have to ask her what she thinks. I
imagine it's something similar.

Today your Mom and I went down to the Tidal Basin. You'll see it some
day soon. It's near the Jefferson Monument. It's surrounded with
hundreds of cherry trees that bloom every spring. Thousands of people
come from all over the world to see those trees. And we live just a few
miles from them! I'll show them to you some day. Not only are they
pretty, but they smell nice. We went with a couple of Mexican friends
of your Mom's, who are here for a few months--you Mom's friend Gloria,
and her student Gracia. In their lab, they have another person called
Alma--we think it must be a spiritual place to work!

Before we went to pick up our friends, we were wondering why you don't
cry while you're inside your Mom. Certainly you're going to cry a lot
after you come out. Until you learn to talk, it will be one of the few
ways you can communicate with us directly. But are things so good for
you in there that you never cry? Or are you crying sometimes and your
Mom just can't feel it? Do you just have nothing to cry about yet? Or
laugh? I really wonder what, if anything, your experience is like
tonight. The doctors told us last Monday you are 20 weeks and two days
old (your Mom's pregnancy was at 22 weeks 2 days). Soon we'll feel you
move. We're going to shine a flashlight on your Mom's belly after you
start moving. She says you'll react. What kind of music do you want to
hear? I don't suppose you know yet.

Tomorrow is Easter. We're having over a dozen people over. I'm making
curried eggplant (and chicken for meat eaters), pad thai with banana
flower, and sticky rice with mango. The other guests are bringing
things, too. We'll have a great party.

Your Mom's kind of freaked out about the belly thing. You're her first
and only pregnancy, and although she delivered dozens of babies when
she was a doctor in Guatemala, she's never been on this end of the
process. She's putting on crema de cocoa to try to prevent
stretch marks. I love feeling her belly and knowing you're in there. I
keep telling your Mom she's beautiful, and I think she believes me, but
she still complains. She says being pregnant sucks. She has to pee all
the time, she's getting cramps in her legs, and every time she eats
lately, her stomach is crammed up under her rib cage. We're both
looking forward to meeting you, but I think your mama will be happy to
get her body back.

Let me tell you a bit about your daddy right now. Right now, I don't
really understand what it is to be a dad. I know that I'm going to fall
completely, uncontrollably in love with you the instant I see you. I
already have moments like that sometimes. But for the most part, you're
simply floating off out there in the not-too-distant future. Your
grandma, my mom, has told me that she wants me to have children not for
her sake, but because until I do, I'll never understand how much she
loves me. I already understand quite a bit, I think, but also I think
she's probably right. I'm looking forward to loving someone that much.
You're a lucky one to have parents like us, too. We're a good balance,
your Mom and I.

Well, it's late, honey, and I have a lot of cooking to do in the morning. I'll write again soon.

Love

Dad