Your Daddy and You

Dear Son,

Me again. Your mum is asleep right now and you've been wriggling about in her tummy a bit less than usual today. I think we're arriving at the point where you move around less as there is less room in there now. You're almost ready to make your grand entrance into the world, and we're both massively excited to meet you on the outside of a placenta at last. If I can talk to you, man to man, for a while, I'd appreciate it.

You see, I'm kinda scared, to be honest. I look at our friends who have babies who are growing up into fine young people and I envy them. I want to know what they know. Of course, I will know it, but I'll have to live it first. No matter what advice people give us, no matter what the websites and books tell us, we know that the experience of bringing you into the world and raising you will be unique, because you're the baby involved and nobody else knows you like we will.

However, it's scary, and what I'm trying to say here is that it's okay to be scared sometimes. A little fear is a big step towards understanding that you're working your way through an unfamiliar situation or set of circumstances. Sometimes that work can be very hard indeed, but soon you find that fear will fade if you face it as best you can.

I will no doubt regale you with stories of my adventures before I met your mother, the silly choices I made, the scary things I did, the concerts I performed, seeing my name in print, the friends I had and lost and the new friends I found and much more.

As I cross over from being the child to being the adult and parent myself, I find myself looking at the person I am more and more, and seeing how I can be better for you. A better person for you and your mum. A better dad. Your dad.

I want you to love me and let me make you laugh. I want to play with you and tell you stories, fetch you biscuits and chase monsters out of your room at night.

It will be very hard – through no fault of yours, my son – but every second will be worth it. I want you to be happy, and to grow up to think of your dad fondly, even when I've annoyed you or vice-versa. You see, we're very similar indeed, your daddy and you – we're just different ages. Believe me, the world doesn't make a great deal more sense when you're a grown up.

I want to write more soon for you. There's so much I want to say, but right now I need to go and join your mummy in bed, and lay my hand on the tummy which you are inside while I sleep. I'll dream of you, my son. I'll dream of making you happy and proud, and then I hope I can dream up the courage and strength to make it a reality.

I am so looking forward to meeting you.

Love,
     Dad