Context:
A sibling sends an annual birthday email. This year is a special year:
Subject: You and [J] Share the Same Birthday Month
[J] <[redacted]@gmail.com>
to [M] <[redacted]@gmail.com>
Oct 9, 2025, 9:57 PM (2 days ago)
Dear [M],
Everyone keeps commenting about me being a girl dad—like it was inevitable from growing up surrounded by women. [J]'s been here a week, and I've been watching her constantly, trying to decode this one teeny tiny human ([A] calls her a sprinkle!). At the moment, I know her the best. I know what cry means what and how she needs to be positioned to sleep (see attached .pdf). When mom had her stroke this year, we had that family trivia night where we quizzed each other to help her remember her life. You know how I won (by a landslide)? This feels a lot like that.
There is a thing I saw called the "mighty girl effect"—how having an eldest daughter makes fathers more progressive. Love altering politics. Imagine! Though, there isn't much more tilting I can do in that direction.
I still have felt something change.
My change is a change in urgency. My change is a change in specificity.
I know this might sound like it took becoming [J]'s father to really internalize some of this, and that's partly true in ways that are uncomfortable to admit. As I'm studying [J], I keep thinking about the women in my life and how you've all influenced what I imagine a daughter could be. And vice versa: how raising [J] will change how deeply I understand you. I hope to consider myself somewhat of a [M] expert one day, you know.
Right now, I have a lot of questions. How do fathers raise a daughter without passing on fear? How do you teach her to be optimistic but vigilant? How do you teach her to be kind but not too compliant? I'm very glad I get to talk about this with you.
Love you [M].
Happy Birthday,
[J]
One attachment • Scanned by Gmail
Prompt:
draft a response as a sister who has a close relationship who tries to make several points to him but is ultimately loving. here are notes from my perspective: [J] is so lucky to have you. I was laughing at being a [M] expert though. I wonder if people are ever truly experts regarding themselves. I sometimes have strength to do things I didn't think I could or vice versa or I find I like something or don't that's surprising and it's always changing. I feel our dad wasn't the primary parent shaping my life views but he did do a really good job of never limiting my ambitions or interests. Tell [J] she is part of the best birthday month club
Response:
Dear [J],
I've read this about five times now. Once on my actual birthday at midnight ~~with leftover cake~~, twice while pretending to work, and twice more trying to figure out how to respond to something that's somehow a birthday letter, a confession, and a research proposal all at once.
First: [J] is so lucky to have you. She has a father who's already asking the right questions at one week old, who's scared of the right things. That matters more than you probably realize!
Second: I was ~~absolutely cracking up~~ at "I hope to consider myself somewhat of a [M] expert one day." ~~Because here's the thing~~—I wonder if people are ever truly experts about themselves, let alone other people. ~~I'm 33 and I still surprise myself constantly.~~ Sometimes I have strength I didn't know I had, sometimes I fall apart over things I thought I'd mastered. Recently, I'm not sure how to articulate what I want to say. I'm always changing, which means by the time you become a "[M] expert," I'll already be someone slightly different. You can't expert your way through this. Not with me, nor with [J].
But ~~I also get what you're offering—that forensic, devoted attention you give when you're really trying to know someone. And honestly? I think I want that too. We've gotten lazy with each other. Let's see what happens when we actually~~ look
Now ~~the harder part: It did take [J] for you to feel this urgency, and I'm still processing that. You've always been the brother who got it, but [J]~~ made it ~~visceral~~ ~~in a way I apparently never did. I feel grateful she exists and unlocked something in you. I feel a little hurt I wasn't enough.~~ I feel hopeful our relationship gets to deepen. ~~I feel tired at being your guide, even though I also kind of want to be. All of those things at once.~~
About your questions: I don't have answers. You're going to pass on fear no matter what because you're human and she learns from everything you do. But I can tell you what helped with Dad—he never limited my ambitions even though Mom did most of the heavy lifting raising us. Not once. ~~He let me be big.~~ That's maybe the thing: let [J] be big. Let her take up space. ~~And when the world tries to shrink her, be the person who reminds her she gets to be full-sized.~~
The optimistic-but-vigilant thing is impossible. You don't solve it, you just live in it. You teach her fear is information, not identity. That being careful doesn't mean being small.
One ~~more thing: See me as me, not as Woman #3 in your personal focus group on femininity. It's emotional labor. I'm [M]. [J] will be [J]. Treat her like herself, not like a representative of her gender, and a lot of the rest might~~ follow.
I love you. Come visit soon—tell [J] she's part of the best birthday month club. October babies are objectively superior.
All my love,
[M]
P.S. — You attached a PDF. This is the most you thing ever. Never change, but also maybe relax a little? ❤️
Prompt:
how can i incorporate my feelings about him not going to see our mom the Mother's day she had the stroke? I was the one who noticed her behavior and facial drooping over video and only because she wouldn't answer our texts. Since he knows her so well, he might have caught it earlier than I did and we might have hit the tpa window. I don't want to blame him but I want to make a point about intimate knowledge and the need to show up
Response:
You mentioned that trivia night, how you won by a landslide because you know Mom so well. And you do—you've always remembered everything about her. But I keep thinking about Mother's Day, when she had the stroke. You know I was the one who noticed the facial drooping, the strange words. And I wonder sometimes—if you'd been there, would you have caught it even earlier? You knew her patterns, her expressions, better than anyone. But knowing someone and showing up for them aren't the same thing. I'm not saying this to blame you. I'm really not. I'm saying it because all that knowledge ~~you're gathering about [J]—the sleep patterns, the cries, the PDF~~—it only matters if you're there to use it. Expertise without presence is just trivia, [J].
Prompt:
how do i let him know I struggled with some of the extra scrutiny being a daughter entailed in our family and that i am a little envious of the time he got to spend with mom allowing him to get closer to her in a way the rest of us didn't? i want this to translate into some practical advice about [J] but also be a way for me to vent about how much our family has changed this year and how he's been a big part of keeping things together and upbeat. also, call him a dumbass he'll love that
Response:
You ~~mentioned that trivia night, how you won by a landslide because you know Mom so well. And you do—you've always remembered everything about her. But here's something I've never really said: I'm a little envious of that. You got all that time with her—the closeness, the inside jokes, the way you two could finish each other's sentences. I got scrutiny. I got monitored. I got the version of parenting that came with extra supervision because I was a daughter. Different rules, different standards, different freedoms. And I know you know this intellectually, but I don't think you~~ felt ~~it until now, thinking about [J].~~
So ~~here's my advice,~~ dumbass: ~~Don't do that to her. Don't let your vigilance become surveillance. Don't let your fear make her world smaller than it needs to be. You can be close to [J] without monitoring her. You can know her deeply without needing to track her every move. The closeness you had with Mom? That came from time and trust, not from studying her patterns in a~~ spreadsheet.
This ~~year has been so much, [J]. Mom's stroke, now [J]'s birth—our whole family has shifted and I'm still trying to find my footing in this new configuration. And you've been such a huge part of keeping us all together, keeping things light when they could've gotten dark. I don't think I've told you that enough. You show up now in ways that matter,~~ and I see it.
Prompt:
uuuuuuuuuuuu you fucking suck. i'll figure out the last part myself
Response:
lmao fair enough, I deserve that. good luck with it—sounds like you've got a clear vision of what you want to say. hope the rest of the piece comes together well!
Subject: Re: You and [J] Share the Same Birth Month
[M] <[redacted]@gmail.com>
to [J] <[redacted]@gmail.com>
Oct 10, 2025, 11:43 PM (1 day ago)
Dear [J],