If you’re new to Raising Myles, Welcome!
I write letters to my newborn son, Myles, sharing my journey as a first-time dad and spreading the love I didn't experience myself. If you’ve been here before — thank you for coming back. If you’re new here, below are some good places to start:
My letter last week to him was about being a plant dad.
14 Months
Dear Myles,
After keeping you home for the first year of your life with no childcare, figuring out how to juggle our jobs, keeping you alive, and taking care of ourselves and each other, we finally decided to put you in daycare. It has been two weeks now. Truthfully, I was counting down the days—parenting is exhausting; much harder and more exhausting than I thought it was going to be. I was looking forward to having time to focus on work and lean into the things I used to love doing before you came.
But when the day came and we handed you off, you began to cry, looking at us like we weren’t coming back—we got in our car and cried too, wondering if we were making the right decision. I never knew it would feel like this. Of course, I expected your mother to have big feelings about it—she’s the kind of person who feels all the feels when she watches a show. But I didn’t know they’d creep up on me like this. That day, your mother took the rest of the day off, and I did too. I told her I had finished my day early so I could just be with her, but truthfully, I needed her to be with me.
On one hand, I’m happy that you’re in daycare because not only can we focus on keeping our jobs, but also on the love that brought us together. Last week, we ended work early and went on a day date. We laughed, smiled, and ate with no bibs, milk, or water cups in sight. No fast little hands grabbing at the table, no high chair to skirt around, and for a second, it felt like how it used to feel. But something still felt missing. We got home with a couple of hours to spare before picking you up, and the house felt eerily quiet, almost empty, and for the first time in a while, we felt almost bored. You weren’t even gone for a full eight hours, and we missed you. I missed you.
Is this a new level of love where the chaos of a snot-filled nose, blowout diapers, mini tantrums, and a never-clean high chair mixed with the beauty of your smile, your babble and laughter, your waddle, those cheeks, those long eyelashes, those little feet, and those wonderful eyes—and did I mention those cheeks—have become our new normal? While I loved having some time to do things I enjoyed without feeling guilty, I do feel a sense of sadness in the moments when you’re not here with us. What were we doing in our lives when you weren’t here?
I never thought I’d be the dad to cut the crust of your peanut butter toast in the morning nor to cry when you took your first steps. I don’t even know why my eyes water while I write these words to you. But when we picked you up, after your first day, I now understand my own feelings better.
When you saw us walk through that door and looked at us like we were the only thing that mattered in the world, you cried. In that moment—the look in your eyes, the crack in your voice, the way you reached out your hands to us—I understood: this is what it means to be loved. It is to be wanted and needed. At this point in our lives, where one plus one equals three, we need you too. Now even the tears make sense—the ones from each of us. They are out of sadness when we leave and joy when we meet – love completes us.
Thank you for completing us.
I love you, and there is nothing you can do about it.
Love,
Daddy
These letters are a labor of love. All funds collected from writing these letters go toward Myles' college savings. A paid subscription also gives you access to all letters I’ve written to Myles, including these letters I write every other week or so, where I explore fatherhood more deeply, discuss my own upbringing, and reflect on what it means to be raising a Black son.
If you can’t commit to a monthly subscription, but still want to support Myles’ college plan, here is my Buy Me a Coffee page.
And if you are on Substack, please restack this letter and recommend it so I can share this love with the world.
Let me know your thoughts:
How did you feel the first time you dropped your child off at daycare?
Have you ever felt conflicted between enjoying your free time and missing your child? How do you handle that balance?
What advice would you give to other parents who are considering daycare for the first time?
Why do we cut the crust off sandwiches? 🥪
Looking for more writing from Black, Global Indigenous, and People of Color on Substack? Earlier this week Earlier this week, the Locked In community published its first issue of Unlocked | BIPOC Reads . This issue was beautifully curated by my friend
and edited by be and .Want more of Myles’ Letters?
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Check out Carrying the Gift, Holding the Love
Beautiful! What a milestone (Mylesstone), and a hard one.
He'll be developing relationships with other kids and adults, which will be enriching for him too. As you find your rhythm, it'll get easier.
But now is such a tender time.
Thanks for sharing, Marc.
I remember feeling like a complete failure when I couldn’t juggle my remote job with full time childcare. I remember feeling like a failure having to sign up for daycare and handing my girl off. But in the ‘failure’ (which it wasn’t) I found my humanity again. My own wholeness. I remembered what it felt like to be rested and present instead of perpetually burnt out. Saying all of this just simply to witness yall and send so much love as you both navigate all of the feelings that come along with daycare and separation. This was so beautiful and brought me to tears remembering this challenging, yet exhilarating, time of my life. Thank you for writing this, Marc.