A Letter to Aidan

Son,

You're 4 months old now, and I have no idea where the time has gone.

It feels like moments ago that your mom and I were standing in a parking lot, nervously excited and a little bit terrified, as we stared down at a positive pregnancy test that signaled the end of life as we'd known it and the beginning of something beautiful new.

You were coming, and it didn't matter if we were ready. You were coming, just the same.

We prepared as best as we could. Your mother read countless books and internet articles. I tried, but all the info and statistics made my brain hurt. It's okay. Your mom briefed me regularly and everything I needed to know.

I remember the day (middle of the night) you were born like it was a moment ago. I think it will probably always feel that way.

After an extended and arduous labor, you finally brought an end to the struggle and the suspense, as you exited the womb with your left hand wrapped around your own head. It was like you were reaching out, hoping someone would pull you from the darkness and into the light.

And we did.

The first week was a messy blur. You cried. A lot. So did we. Well, we wanted to. We rarely slept. We did all we could to make sure you were happy and content. We gave you everything we had. Some days, that didn't feel like enough, but it was the best we could do.

Praise God, we all survived.

And now, I look at you, and my heart bursts with pride and joy. You're smiling and laughing now. You know who I am. You definitely know who your mother is. Your legs are getting stronger, as you develop the necessary acuity to eventually walk. You roll constantly, trying to figure out how to crawl. You rub at your gums, 24-7, seemingly knowing that there will be teeth there soon.

I don't know what the next year will hold, but I know I love you in a way unique to how I've ever loved another person. I want you to have the world. I want you to be fulfilled. I want to teach you all I know, and I hope that will be enough.

I don't want you to be as good as me. I want you to be better. God has an incredible plan for you. For you were forged in the fires of struggle, tragedy, pain, joy, darkness and light. My whole life is the backstory for how you arrived here. Everything I've endured was but a mandatory step in the process of bringing you into existence.

Never accept anything less than amazing. Not from yourself. Not from those around you.

Life hurts. I say that not to scare you, but to steel you. With that said, be wary of growing so thick a skin that your heart can't be found. Never allow your pain to make you jaded. Be someone who is able to forgive. That is a gift and an art-form which will take a lifetime to truly develop.

Above all else, I hope that you will place truth at the forefront of your life. God is the great author of truth. There is no truth outside of Him. Be a godly man who fights battles of principle. This will make you wildly unpopular. This has historically been the case for great men.

Don't be fake. Even if it means people shunning or walking away from you. Count it a blessing. You don't need fairweather friends. When they leave, they do you a tremendous favor.

I cannot wait to watch you grow up. But don't do it too quickly. I want to enjoy this. I know I have thus far.

I love you fiercely,

Dad