You're My Marlow

Soon after my son, Marlow, was born, my dad said to me, “You’re my Marlow.” 

It made me sick to my stomach to hear. In three words, the almost crippling amount of love I felt for my new son, someone had for me. You won’t understand until you’re a parent, I now understood. The vulnerability goes both ways. 

Vulnerable to the world, you’ll look to me to help guide you through it, even though I haven’t figured it out myself. Your health and happiness will influence mine, and through the bad days, I’ll hope mine doesn’t affect yours. 

For the rest of our lives, part of ourselves, our energy, our calm will be tied to the relationship we build. 

It sounds like a lot, it is. I’ll want to control it, to carry it all for you, but I won’t always be able to. 

It will grow, it may drop, break, and be rebuilt, but we’ll always carry it together. 

If you’re okay, I’m okay.

But, seriously, with all of my heart, no pressure.