A Letter from My Dad

Riley,

Eloquence does not come easily. Words that, upon their reading flow fluidly off the tongue do not await picking like fruit in ripened groves. They seem hard to come by these days, rare, and while the thoughts silently sound well formed as they invisibly cycle and float and pass through my head, they never seem to read as well on paper as I imagine they will when they suspend themselves in the unfilled room of my consciousness.

I begin with this statement not because I seek a false sense of humility, or even sympathy for that matter, but because I desire to explain my inexplicable love for you as accurately and completely as possible with these words. If I was eloquent or, at the very least, capable enough to choose the most expressive of words and arrange them in passages that articulated this heart that undeniably lies in your ownership, I would thank God for such occasion and assistance. But, since it remains in the decision of Him and Him alone how these words and sentences and paragraphs construct, please recognize, in the very least, my intent.

Having disclaimed with this, allow me to attempt this nearly impossible task.

In six weeks, or at the very least, four, we shall meet for the first time. Face to face, eye to eye, I shall finally behold you. After nine months, even years wondering what my first child will look like, sound like… who they will be… I will hold you in my arms, hear you, speak to you, calm you and, I am confident, find myself overwhelmed by joy and emotion and love at the mere sight of you.

Yet, while I look forward to that day, I need not that moment to fall in love with you. No. You, my precious and beautiful girl, are already greatly loved. Knowing nothing more than your name and the movements I can feel as you roll and kick in your mother’s womb, you have captivated me. Minutes are lost entirely as I think of you and pray for you and day dream of our future memories ahead.

There are fatherly things to be said and taught and reminded that will surely follow this day—years of such things—but for now (and always), all I desire is that you know this very simple truth above others: I love you. With every breath and bone in my body, until the day I pass from this life into the eternal one awaiting me and all other followers of Christ, you have my unconditional and inexpressible love.

While it may not read as eloquently as the heart pounding inside my chest for you would hope, optimist that I am, I remain confident that you shall understand this truth, at least to some extent, someday in the near or distant future.

With a love these words fail to fully capture,

Dad

What Will It Be Like?

Like my old man, I, too, have no idea what any of this means. This being born thing that is.

I mean, what's it going to be like on the Outside? What will my parents act like when I'm out there? How am I going to react when I actually have to wear diapers and clothes? What's earth look like, smell like, feel like? What will I eat and how much will I like it all? There are so many questions and so few answers until I get out there.

That's it, I think I'm going to try and break out of this joint early. I can't take the suspense much longer. It may not happen, but I'll try. I happened to catch this show last season while I was still developing my ears and eyes and brain and stuff, and I think it captures the spirit of my future attempt well:

Until next time, that's (my extremely curious and impatient) life thus far.

Little Room for Style

I had no clue it was so uncomfortable being pregnant. I mean, I thought I had the tough job, all contorted and crammed in here. But, apparently not. My mom recently wrote about what she likes and doesn't like about being pregnant and let me tell you, it doesn't sound all that fun.

On a more blog-related note, I know I haven't been writing much lately, but it's really hard fitting a keyboard in the tiny space I have left anymore. I tried watching HGTV's Small Space, Big Style show for some ideas, but I haven't seen anything yet on how to make the most of a 18"x18" floorplan. Good thing I didn't end up having a twin brother or sister. That would have been insanely stifling and, likely, not a great way to start our siblinghood.

Well, that's all I got for now. My cute little fingers are getting tired. Until next time, that's (my not-as-uncomfortable-as-I-once-thought-but-still-compact) life thus far.