Being Okay with 'Mama'

Annabelle woke up at 2:59 AM on Wednesday morning. There was no real rhyme or reason. She wasn't sick, wasn't cold, wasn't ready to wake up. She just started crying, so I went in to make sure she was okay.

She was standing up with her arms out, a couple small tears started to drip down her cheeks. Groggy, wiping sleep from my eyes, I reached down into her crib to get her.

Me: Hi, baby. Are you okay? 

Annabelle: (Crying.)

Me: What's wrong? Are you feeling okay? Do you want to come into our bed? 

Annabelle, with arms reaching toward our bedroom: Mama. Mama. Mama.

Me: Oh, okay. Cool. 

Hun! She wants you ...

One of the hardest things about being a new Dad is when "Dad" isn't the answer. No matter who you are or where you're from, there's one hope we all share: If you love something, you want that thing to love you back. Now, of course, Annabelle loves me (or at least I hope/assume she does), but it's pretty difficult to get a baby stiff arm when you're coming to the rescue or trying to plant a kiss before bed.

It's not just the middle of the night, either. In the photo above, Bridget and Belle are walking hand-in-hand through the magical streets of Disney World. Cute, isn't it? Where's Dad? Well, in public, for some strange reason, Annabelle refuses to hold my hand. Not in Disney World. Not at the store. Not on the street. Maybe she's embarrassed already?

As an uncertain, first-time Dad, this has been tough for me. Am I doing something wrong? Can I do anything better? Will it ever change? Bridget, being the wonderfully supportive spouse, always answers the same way, "She loves you. She just goes through lots of phases. She'll want you all the time someday."

That kind, thoughtful answer rang in my head at 3:01 AM on Wednesday morning. After my initial disappointment with "Mama," I smiled and realized it was the first time Annabelle called for one of us at night. She's growing up so fast and I'm lucky to be sharing the experience with such a wonderful wife.

Then, at 3:02 AM, as I crawled back into bed with Bridget and, now, Annabelle, I felt a tiny hand on my shoulder. And as my smile faded and I put my attention to falling back asleep, I heard a barely audible whisper:

Dada.