Any day now, you’ll be here.
I mean, you’re here now, kicking and punching your way through the world, which as of now only consists of your mother’s mid-section. I don’t know you yet, but I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I do now. I love the way your little feet and hands reach out to me when I put my hands up to your mother’s stomach. I love the way you’re growing bigger and healthier every single day. And I love that you’re about to change your mother’s and my lives forever. “Flipped-turned upside down,” as the kids say. We’ll never be the same. All because of you.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about just how much I want to make your childhood perfect. I’m sure there are a few details here and there that I’ve left out, but I already have a few particulars in mind that want to share with you. I’m sure I’ll mess a few of things up, but if I could pick from a list things that I want to pass on to you, these would highlight it.
Let’s see, in no particular order, here’s a list of awesome things I want to do with you, pass on to you, somehow make you care about, and/or help you become passionate about alongside me (and often times your mother as well). Here goes…
- Sports. Giants, Warriors, Niners, Cal. If you’re in, I’ll take you to dozens, maybe hundreds of sporting events in your lifetime. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when we walk through the tunnel at a Giants game and you see the field in person for the very first time; or when we both go to the brand new Levi Stadium even when it’s not new; or when we are sitting on a pier in the San Francisco Bay, about to walk into the Warriors new arena. I just hope you’re not one of those kids who says, “Everyone I grew up with was a Giants fan, so I decided to be a Dodgers fan just because it was counter-cultural and divisive.” C’mon. You’re better than that. I get it. It’s ironic. Now be a real fan.
- Secondly, your mom and I will have lives even after you get here. Sorry, kiddo. While I’m sure you’d just love to have us sit at home with you and cater to your every waking–and sleeping–want and need (don’t be selfish), we’re probably not going to do that. We’re going to try our best to go out, hang out with friends, travel, visit family, and continue doing everyday, normal activities. Don’t get me wrong, we’ll bring you along whenever possible, but our hope is that you’re able to adapt to new environments and people as we continue to live lives outside of just our house in Mt. Shasta. We think you’ll probably be a better person because of this fact too.
- You should also know that you’ll be going to church. Hopefully you like it, but I’m sure there will be times when we have to drag you there (as we currently do). What I’m hoping is that you spend the time in church asking the big questions that start some great conversations between us three. That’s where it’ll start at least.
- Back to traveling… I hope to travel a lot with you, your mom, and any siblings you may or may not have in the coming years. We’ll be going to Europe, Hawaii, Asia, Africa, New England, Alaska, Ireland, Chile, Israel, and pretty much wherever we can afford to go. I want to shower you with the historical knowledge and experiences, and it’s my hope that you’re even more passionate and knowledgeable about history than your mother and I. If there’s a plaque, let’s read it.
- Compassion. You need to have it. I haven’t quite figured out how your mother and I are going to give this trait to you, but it may take some volunteering at a food kitchen on Thanksgiving or something. This can probably wait a year or so.
- Creativity. You’re the epitome of creativity. While I believe a little more went into your creation than just some biological ingredients, you’re a new creation here on earth. Not to get too existential (too late), but your creation is the most inspiring and beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced–and no, I’m not being gross, I truly mean the inception of your soul and being, not the action that started it all. C’mon. Anyway, my hope is that you fall in love with creativity the way I have the past ten years and that whether you’re left-handed or not, you’re able to express yourself through some type (or many types) or artistic endeavor. Writing, painting, music, acting, singing, whatever it may be. I just hope you love it, embrace it, and it sets you free.
- I hope we hang out a lot. I know fathers are often distant and emotionally-numb, but I don’t want to be that kind of father. I hope we hang out all the time and I will do my best to build a foundation of trust and honesty with you starting from day one that I hope can turn into a loving, open and trusting relationship between us for the rest of our lives.
- Education. I hope you don’t take yours for granted. While I’m sure there will be times when you don’t appreciate how good you have it, I hope that the desire for knowledge and appreciation for your gifts and blessings outweigh all that and you’re able to fall in love with learning and are able to soak up every ounce of wisdom you come across.
- By the time you consciously know who Darth Vader is, you’ll have seen Star Wars dozens of times. I know, I know. It’s a violent trilogy (yes, “trilogy”–I’m a purist), so I’ll be muting and fast-forwarding a few scenes here and there, but I’m sure you’ll have seen 90% of episodes IV-VI several dozen times by the time you’re 5 years old. You’re welcome.
- Love. True love. Despite our best intentions, your mother and I will probably leave you with some long-term, emotional baggage. You’ll be scarred and it’ll affect every relationship you have for the rest of your life. Sorry about that. My hope is that you’re able to work through that stuff intentionally and deeply, and overcome it (with therapy, if necessary), and thrive with the knowledge that you’re better off because of what you’ve been through and overcome. Once that’s happened, I have no doubt you’ll be a kickass significant other. My one piece of advice right now regarding the person you’re looking to spend the rest of your life with: don’t settle. Wait it out for your dreamboat. They exist and if you wait long enough, you’ll find each other.
Those are just a few of the things I’ve been thinking a lot about as of late. I’m sure (I hope) your mother and I will be adding to that list all the time.
I need to apologize for one thing before you get here. The past few weeks have been pretty exhausting. First, I was sick for a few weeks, plus there’s a bunch of tiring stuff at work going down that is impossible to just leave at work. So, a big part of me wants you to get here so I can take a few weeks off from work to hang out with you and your mother. I think that’s kind of selfish. So I’m sorry for that. I really do want you to get here, but not as an excuse to get out of going to work in the morning, but because you’re going to be one of the greatest people I ever meet, and I can’t wait to meet you.
One thing’s for sure; you sure are a patient kiddo. If you don’t get out of there soon, we’ll be celebrating your first birthday in the womb. Not ideal for your mother, as well as for all of your family and friends who can’t wait to meet you. So do us all a favor and grace us with your presence.
I know it’s warm where you are, and it’s pretty cold out here, but I promise as soon as you get here, we’ll warm you right up. Until then, I’ll keep praying and thinking of you constantly. And then when you get here, I’ll spend the rest of my life doing the same.
Your mother’s the love of my life, but you’ll always be a close second. See you soon.