On the Birth of My Son

The American poet Edward Estlin Cummings eschewed traditional rules of grammar, spelling, and syntax. His byline was simply e.e. cummings and he often did not include spaces between commas, periods, and other punctuation. One of my favorite poems was written by Mr. Cummings. I first became aware of it based on the first and last songs of an album by the American post-hardcore band La Dispute. The poem is titled, “somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond,” and it is a work of beauty. You can read it below.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

any experience,your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, 

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers, 

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and 

my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals 

the power of your intense fragility:whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens;only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Generally, it reads as a love poem. I have thought often on this poem, and I believe it quite succinctly sums up my feelings as a new father.

My favorite line from the poem is this one:

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers, 

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

Henry is able to unfold all of my emotions in a single glance, or sweet little coo, or grunt while sleeping. He is a beautiful boy, and I love him. Even though I love to write and have a pretty large vocabulary, I am simply at a loss for words as to how to explain how fully and deeply I love this child. It is surreal.

My son was born at 3:26 PM on August 14. It was the coolest experience of my life. As a religious man, I believe the veil between this world and the next was incredibly thin in the moments before, during, and after his birth. Nothing could have prepared me to love something so fully, passionately, and unconditionally. He is, in a word, perfect. His birth was quite literally a holy experience.

When my parents came later to meet their new grandson, my dad held him for a little bit and started talking to him. He said, “Hey bud! Who were you just with? Were you talking with Grandpa Lyle? Grandpa Moss?” In my religion, we believe that spirits reside with their Heavenly Parents before being sent to this earth. My paternal grandfather and father-in-law have both passed away, and I, like my dad, believe that Henry was interacting with them before he came to meet his earthly family.

Already, Jane and I are able to see different things about him that he takes after from us. He has my wife’s nose and mouth, but he has my almond eyes. His noises that he makes are directly from me – I often talk in my sleep and just make noise in general, and Henry is no different. I am sure as he grows we will see various traits and quirks that he picks up from me and Jane.

I am sure there will be plenty of difficulty and excitement and happiness in the days to come. I’m sure that there will be laughter, and tears, and happiness along with sadness. But I am excited for the future – I am eager to see him grow and learn and do the same along with him.

So while this is still new and fresh, I understand that I am going somewhere I have never traveled, and I am going far, far beyond that place. Henry’s little fingernails and facial expressions and noises are enough to melt me, to unfold me and make me into a melted puddle of goo. And yet, those same things are enough to reform me and to cause me to deepen a love that I have never known before.

After all, nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.