Sunday,
November 26, 1944
To
My Baby Karen Jean,
This
is my first letter to you as a person. Today you are 28 days old and
I haven't seen you or have so much as a picture to tell me what you
look like. Your father left the United States before you were born,
knowing your arrival was just a short time away and wanting very much
to be there when you did arrive.
Your
mother and I wanted a little girl like you. Fathers usually want a
little boy but I wanted a little girl as much like her mother as possible.
You see, I love your mother very much and I couldn't think of anything
nicer than to have a little girl just like her. All I know about you
right now is that you weighed five pounds, eight ounces when you were
born, and that you have black hair (which your mother writes me was
two inches long in back), and dark blue eyes. That sounds to me like
an extremely nice baby girl. Your aunts, grandparents and uncles all
think a lot of you. Your daddy does too and wants more than anything
else in the world to come back home soon and take care of Karen Jean
and her mama. Your job is to eat, sleep, play, develop a good disposition,
and grow like a baby should.
Goodnight
my darling, sleep well, and your daddy will come home to you soon.
Love
from your father
