[ WP ] Within a year of birth every parent receives a small gift or note from their 18yo child via time travel . You do n't .

`` Nothing?'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry, Mr. Kerry''. The doctor excused himself and walked away. So much for bedside manner. 
 
 Paul walked back to the nursery room, struggling with his emotions. Anger, confusion, self-doubt and fear all reared their ugly heads in quick succession; ever since Laureen had told him she was pregnant he had felt uneasy. It had taken him months to accept he was going to be responsible ( hah! ) for a human life. Him! Him, whose own father had called a fuck-up for his entire life. Him, who had flunked out Home Ed in middle school, who had dropped out of High School, and who had stupidly gotten his girlfriend pregnant at the age of 19. 
 
 It was no wonder he had n't received anything. He was going to fuck it up, big time. He was a kid playing to be a man and he was n't ready for the responsibility of taking care of a person. 
 
 Irrational anger towards his newborn began to build up in his head. When he turned 18 himself, he had sent a letter to his own father with a simple `` fuck you''. Why could n't his kid do the same? Anything, anything would had been better than the silence. Even if something has happened to the kid, he knew he would have received the customary notification... but if he had n't received anything, it meant the kid specifically asked nothing to be sent. 
 
 Looking at all the babies in the nursery, he felt a pang of sadness. All these children, all of them would have better fathers than what he himself could offer. He was a fuck-up ( he had heard it so many times he had come to believe it ), and the child would be better off without him. 
 
 The last thought surprised him. It came to him almost naturally, seductively. Of course, he was a kid. He was young, his whole life in front of him... and it would be better for the kid. Yeah. Laureen would cry ( damn, how would he miss her ), but even she would come to understand it was for the better. For the better of the three of them. 
 
 As if a dam had been opened, justifications started pouring inside his mind as he started strolling towards the stairs leading to the exit of the hospital. The kid would not have him as a role model, Laureen would be able to meet a better man, and he himself would be able to continue his studies... who knows, maybe it was not too late to finish High School, and maybe go to college, and then return and finally be the right father for his kid, play ball with him, help him with his homework, get a family dog... 
 
 Outside it was dark, he could n't see much more other than the sparse street lights, and right under one was his car, enticing him to take the wheel and drive away, away from all his problems. But the last images had left a powerful impression in his mind. He could n't kid himself: if he left, right now, he would never be a part of that family. He would be every bit of the fuck-up he had been called his whole life. 
 
 Yes, he was an immature man-child who had been forced to grow too quickly. He would never be the same person he had been up to that point of his life. But he could be something better. The kid was going to end up hating him ( the absence of letter proved it, there was no other explanation ), there was no guarantee he was n't going to end up screwing this up... but damn it, he could try. He could try to be a good father. 
 
 So he climbed the stairs back again, and he found himself contemplating his son in the nursery room again. He was nervous, more so than ever in his life. But he was hopeful. 
 
 He stood there for fifteen minutes when a nurse approached him. 
 
 `` Mr. Kerry?'' He recognized her, she had been present when Laureen gave birth to their son. She looked somewhat confused. `` Mr. Kerry, this is unusual. Your letter was supposed to come at the exact moment of birth, but for some reason it just arrived, some minutes ago.'' 
 
 She presented the letter and he started at it dumbfounded for a moment before accepting it. Excusing himself, he sat in a chair and opened it. It only contained three words. 
 
 `` Thank you, Dad''
