This is actually the first month that we’ve really tried to conceive you. Gee, that doesn’t sound real personal. I mean, referring to you as, well, "you." My goal in these notes is to let you know what was happening in our life while you were growing limbs. I guess, since you are at this point only about an inch in size and actually are neither a "he" nor a "she," I really don’t know how to refer to you. I know this doesn’t sound really nice but you probably resemble a tadpole. You know, an inch-long-no-eyes-no-feet-tadpole. Boy, this will bring a dose of reality to those troubled teen years. I think that’s what I’ll call you--Tad. I’m sure your mother and I will come up with a more suitable name, but for now, I think, Tad will work just fine.

Anyway, getting back to the conception thing. We married in September of this year, and since we are getting long in the tooth for child bearing (your mother is 36 and I am 38), we decided that we’d get right to it, so to speak. We talked about trying in November and December, but your mother was a little frightened to take the plunge. You see, Tad, you probably already realize this, your mother is quite the planner. 

She was positive that it would take us forever to get pregnant. (I love when guys say "get us pregnant." Shit, she’s pregnant, not me). She was also positive that I would be the one that would not be able to "deliver the goods." Well, it was quite the shock to her when my boys jumped out of the gate and swam like Mark Spitz. I realize that "Mark Spitz" means nothing to you, but trust me it’s really fast. Yeah, the first time we tried to actually create you it worked. Tad, you would have been so proud.

So, your mother headed to Dallas to visit Aunt Tracy, (God, I can’t believe I just referred to her as "Aunt Tracy") and did what women do to check if they are pregnant. By the way, Tad, if you are a female you will not have to be familiar with this process until you are 30 years old. Now her and Aunt Tracy found out that mom’s pregnant with you. That’s pretty exciting, huh? The problem is that they found this out the night after they were partying throughout the evening. This will explain your uncontrollable urge to snuggle up with an empty bottle of Chardonnay instead of your "blanky."

Now, your mother got home on Wednesday night and told me she had an early birthday gift that she wanted to give me. She said that Tracy (we weren’t referring to her as aunt yet) actually helped her pick it out. Frankly, the fact that Tracy would pick out a birthday gift was scaring the hell out of me. Well, your mother then handed me a gift bag that had a pacifier and one of those pregnancy tester sticks in it. 

I’d like to tell you that I reacted like they do in the movies. I’d like to tell you, Tad, that I jumped to my feet and shouted, "My darling, we are going to be parents!" I’d like to tell you that I swept her up in my arms and planted a big old wet kiss on her. I’d like to tell you a lot of things that would make me sound like a bright, romantic father. Unfortunately, that would be lying. 

You see, sometimes I’m not the brightest guy in the world. I kind of looked at her and said, "Huh?" She smiled and looked at me. I then looked at her again and repeated, "Huh?" Your mother then said, "I’m pregnant." She didn’t however say what she was thinking. Which, I’m sure, was something like, "I’m pregnant, dumb ass." I replied, "Holy shit!" She smiled, and we did the wet kiss thing. 

Now, being the self-centered man that you now refer to as "dad", you’ll be happy to know that I looked down at my genital area and spent the next ten minutes gloating. Yes, I was indeed proud that my boys were seaworthy.

Tad, if you are male, please pay extra attention to this part. If you are female, just remember that all men are liars, except dear old dad: You see as a man, we do not initially look at childbirth as God’s gift. Sure, in due time we understand the miracle of birth. However, our initial reaction is that we have planted our seed! We have the ability to multiply! If need be, we may start our own civilization! We are strong, sturdy, and not sterile! Take a sniff, Tad, that is pure testosterone you smell! God, times like this it is truly great to be a MAN! Oops, I got a little loud there. You know if your mother heard that, she would kick my ass.

Your mother then made me promise that I wouldn’t tell anyone, except immediate family, for a couple of months. You see, Tad, there is a whole bunch of wild stuff going on in your life right now. You’re hanging on to a wall holding on for dear life. Your mother is frightened that something could go wrong and the pregnancy could end. This is God’s way of using white-out. I, on the other hand, know that everything is going to be okay. You’re a little tougher than most tadpoles out there. You’ve got strong bloodlines. Any questions, please re-read the above paragraph.

Now, I’ve caught you up on what’s happening. What I’m planning on doing is providing you with a play-by-play of your birth. I want to show you how much you meant to us from start to finish. I would also like to show you, how freaked out we are about having you. It really is kind of scary. You’ll have to remember that I have a tough time making an omelet let alone raising a child. Hopefully, after you read this, you can appreciate how things went; and maybe, just maybe, cut your old man some slack when he messes up.

January 28, 2001, Super Bowl

Tad, this day will forever cause you great joy. For it is the holiest of all football days. Ah yes, Super Bowl Sunday, be you male or female, you will come to love such a hallowed day. Mom, on the other hand, compares it to chewing aluminum foil. She, as you may already know, hates football. I often tell your grandfather, Jim, that he raised a wonderful daughter, but really let me down on the football thing. 

Anyway, we went to Mike and Michael Olson’s house to watch the Baltimore Ravens play the New York Giants. The game of course sucked, but it gave the guys a great opportunity to bet on a million stupid things (I bet the coin toss comes up to be heads, I bet the next play is a run, I bet I can drink more beer than you). Unfortunately, with your mother being pregnant, she wasn't able to enter the "who can drink more beer contest." Of course, Tad, (and you probably already realize this yourself) she could take ‘em all. Actually, your mom is the best! She has the rare ability of being comfortable in an evening gown, a pair of jeans, or with a fishing pole in her hand. There are very few people in the world like your mother. I am--and so are you--truly blessed. (I just love to give her a hard time though.)

Anyway, she was the pillar of strength. While everyone at the party drank all day long, she just smiled and drank water. You see, my goal was to not have a single drink of alcohol while your mom was pregnant. I lasted two days. Thank God that men don’t get pregnant because Super Bowl Sunday would be catastrophic. It’s really neat the way that her and I have this little secret that no one knows about. We have a Tad holding on for dear life.