I Can Only Imagine

My Precious Little One,

As I sit here on this cold, rainy autumn morning with my favorite mug filled with hot chocolate, overflowing with marshmallows and chocolate chips, listening to Shelter by John Legend…I’m flooded with thoughts of you.

Your impending arrival was set for May but yesterday I was made aware that you were not coming. Although you were not planned, when I learned of you I fell in love instantly. Only a select few knew about you. They keep asking me if I’m ok. My reply was and still is, “I’m good.” I know they’re expecting me to hysterically break down or to slip into a depressive state but I flipped flopped between those emotions on Sunday, when your home going began and on Monday, when I knew it had come to an end.

Now you’re gone and I will not get the opportunity to watch my belly grow as you grow. Nor will I get the opportunity to grin from ear to ear at the sound of your heartbeat or after every ultrasound, movement and kick. I will not get the opportunity to go throughout Babies R Us, Burlington or Target, armed with a scanner, pretending to be a secret agent as I shoot or rather scan items for the baby registry.

While some are preparing for their bundles of joy and others proudly display their recently new additions on the stage of Facebook and Instagram…I can only imagine.

I can only imagine… you, a healthy baby boy, with your father’s eyes and smile and my stunning good looks. *wink*

I can only imagine… your personality: funny but also shy…easy going but also stubborn…mild tempered but also hot headed…ambitious but also reluctant…passionate but also indifferent….a lady charmer but also a momma’s boy.

I can only imagine…your siblings whining about you getting away with murder simply because you’re the baby of the family.

I can only imagine…me trying to live out my dream of being a football mom through you…knowing good and well that music would be your passion (it had to be…it made up your DNA).

I can only imagine…me having a front row seat as you take the lessons you have learned, cross the stage from boyhood into adulthood and make that pilgrimage as a man, a husband and a father.

I could go on and on shaping and molding your life in the vast creativity of my imagination but I think I’m going to close with this last one:

I can only imagine… you looking up at me as I’m looking down at you and asking you this question: “Who loves ya, Baby?” *in my Kojak voice* J

Written in love. Signed with a tear. Sealed with a kiss.