On this past Sunday, February 3rd, my wife gave birth to our first child, a 9lb boy, and we named him Isaac Asaph. I typically blog when I'm stressed, and I do feel stressed, but I actually am not in the mood for blogging (which mood typically prompts a post). I just figured I should write my initial thoughts down for posterity, and I hope all will forgive me if I say something stupid, because I'm tired.

First of all, I'm really excited about this child. I quickly experienced a strong emotional bond to the baby, and in spite of much time spent scouring his features, I fail to find anything visually disagreeable about him. That said, at this point in his maturing, he's measurably selfish, and he's rarely awake except to complain loudly about hunger.

I wanted to issue some kind of dramatic introduction to him when he first came out -- something like "welcome to God's Empire!". But it felt weird to do that with all the doctors and Chowon's family there. I imagine I will have plenty of opportunity to talk with him about the war he's been thrust into after Chowon's family leaves.

Chowon's labor was intense, and the recovery has been hard. The first few days of childcare were supplemented by my wife's family, whose actions enabled my wife and I to get much needed sleep during that time, and I am obliged to be grateful to them for the work they've done.

In my wife's face, I can see a deep mix of nervousness, apprehension, joy, fear, insecurity, love, concern, and anticipation. She is so beautiful, and I can already see how excellent she is as a mother. Isaac is such a lucky and blessed young man to have such a wonderful mother. I wish I could untangle those emotions and prove to her that she's already the best mother in the world for our little Isaac. But I know that the question, "am I doing it right?", is one which we might not be able to escape, from now until the day we die.

In the months leading up to this, I've thought quite a bit about what it will mean to be a father -- the changes to my self-perceived identity which accompanied marriage will no doubt be compounded by fatherhood. What parts of my interests or personality I shed are easy payment for the rewards which I anticipate receiving by interaction with this, my very own child. If he is a mirror to show me my shortcomings, I know that God will sanctify us both and good fruit will come from it for the glory of God's kingdom; it will be my honor and pride to wrestle with myself, continually praying for wisdom to bring my family completely washed into the gates of God's kingdom. If he is an arrow well aimed, with a double-edged tip sharpened by God's spirit, piercing the hearts of lost sheep in God's fold, then I pray that my God will bless me with duration of life to see him achieve his mark. In either case, I'm proud and it is an honor to be entrusted with so much as the formative years of this eternal soul. I'm thoroughly excited to see little Isaac grow up and reach his potential. No matter what, I'm proud to have been given the opportunity to father him here on earth.

The above are my thoughts about the people and events around me, but when I try to examine my own immediate emotions more directly with questions like "how do I feel?", I can't think of a good answer. I try to make the question more useful, but I can't think of a better question. It bums me out a little bit that I can't seem to self-evaluate with clarity. Maybe that's the reason I write these blogs in the first place, to help me self-evaluate.

I expected to have readily accessible wellsprings of joy and wonder, and I do, but those wellsprings don't feel so much like they are a part of me as that they are somewhere external to me, and it almost feels laborious to draw from them, but I do it anyway, and I do certainly experience that joy and wonder. When I think hard about how those feelings seem so non-intrinsic to me, it leaves me feeling like I have no positive emotions of my own, in spite of the way I'm continually experiencing them. It's like I'm a puppet, and the puppet master is expressing emotions vicariously through my personal experience. Are these really my feelings? If not, whose are they?

All that said, as I write this post, I feel like I'm trying to describe a picture which isn't complete yet in reality. I would have waited a little longer for it to complete before I wrote about it, but I wonder if it will ever seem to be complete, or if it will rather just change. I didn't want to let this moment pass without giving an honest account of my immediate state of mind -- if only for my own future reference.


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"Then," I said, "our guardians must lay the foundations of their fortress in music?"

"Yes," he said; "the lawlessness of which you speak too easily steals in."

"Yes," I replied, "in the form of amusement; and at first sight it appears harmless."

"Why, yes," he said, "and there is no harm; were it not that little by little this spirit of licence, finding a home, imperceptibly penetrates into manners and customs; whence, issuing with greater force, it invades contracts between man and man, and from contracts goes on to laws and constitutions, in utter recklessness, ending at last, Socrates, by an overthrow of all rights, private as well as public. "
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