Any day now.

Dear Son-
Your arrival date is soon. We are waiting for you with nervous energy. Are we going to be good parents? Will we be able to give you what you want and need? Will I be a good father? Can we raise you to know that you can be and do anything you want in this world and we'll support you and love you and care for you? Will we be too protective? Will we give you enough room to roam? Will you be able to reach all of your hopes and dreams and be a positive force for love and kindness and caring? Will you like us or hate us? For how long, and when? Will we let you watch too much TV, or not enough? Will you play sports, or read, or paint, or write, or build things with your hands?

You will be here soon and we don't know what to call you yet. Oh, there are names. We have several picked out. Elijah is one we've been kicking around. And Carter is one I like. Or Sawyer (although one of my students said you are in danger of being called Sahyer). And there is still Kieran, but that means "dark one" and if you are born on Friday the 13th that might be too weird. I like Holden, but your mom can't pronounce it very well. We also think about Evan and Zachary. I guess we'll know for sure when you get here.

You move around all the time in your mom's belly. Butt up, head down, arms in front of your face--it's hard to get a good picture of you in there. You're getting big, too.

Little toes.
Little fingers.
Little mouth.
Little hands.
Little eyes.
Little ears.

I can't wait to meet you. I'm already so proud of you.

And I love you.
Dad