We knew it all along but people still tried to tell us you weren't.
You have all of your little fingers and toes and that makes me happy.
We bought you an outfit this weekend, and its studly,
but now I'm afraid the girls will try and steal you away too quickly.
I talked about you yesterday.
Not just as a fetus, or the baby in my belly that will be here in the future.
I actually called you my son, my first baby boy.
It was very different to hear those words come out of my mouth,
but I was filled with such happiness that I can't even describe.
We don't have a name for you yet.
Not because we haven't thought about it, because truthfully,
that's all I think about some days.
But we just want it to fit you so perfectly,
that though we may like a name,
we need to make sure it was made for you.
I love you more than ever.
Your daddy talks about how much he's going to teach you when you come out.
He's already worrying about what we'll do while he's at work;
he wants to be a part of it.
He's already warned me that I need to learn how to play like a boy,
and be tough, and teach you manly things.
I promise I will do my best.
I will teach you about colors and letters,
and we will paint until we're all dirty.
I will teach you to follow the music's rythm,
and how to be a gentleman to other women.
I may not know how to play sports,
or build things,
or even be that tough.
But I promise you one thing:
I'll try anyway.