[time-letter-from-dad from=”Aaron Sorkin” to=”Roxy” id=”33469″ twitter_name=”Aaron Sorkin’s”] Roxy, You were born a week early and in the middle of the night. It was late on a Friday and mom was at a fashion show at the Pacific Design Center while I was on the set of The West Wing, a show you might watch one day with your friends and think, “Now I understand why I have to use ten words when one would do the trick.” Mom called me from her car and said she was going home—her stomach was really hurting—and I left the set to go meet at her at the house. When I got home she was lying in bed in a lot of pain. “It’s a strange pain,” she said. “It comes in a big wave and then goes away.” Mom was giving a pretty good description of a contraction. Every light was red between our house and Cedars-Sanai, and it being 2 a.m. now with no one else on the road, I ran them all. Incredibly, Dr. Katz had just delivered another baby and was already there. “This isn’t gonna happen the way we talked about,” Dr. Katz said, “but it’s gonna happen and it’s gonna happen now.” And it did. I won’t bother trying to describe what it was like to hold you for the first time—or for that matter every time since. Words are useless at that and you’ll find out yourself one day. The nurse taught me how to swaddle you. She made sure I understood that the blanket had to be wrapped very tightly around you to make you feel secure. My first try didn’t go so well. I crossed, folded, tucked and lifted you up, only to find that I was holding an empty blanket in my hands and a naked baby was lying on the bed. You had a look on your face that said, “Oh my God, my father’s a moron.” Around 6 a.m. mom sent me to the house to get some things she wanted, and I used the … Continue reading Letters from Dad