You are days from exiting your mum and entering this whole wide world and I want you to know this: I am very much looking forward to meeting you. When we meet, I will look straight into your blind eyes and put into your little hands the key to my heart. (I copied the one I gave your mum 14 years ago in preparation for this day.) My heart is yours and your mum’s. Do what you wish. Just know that I bruise easily from inside.
I also want you to know that your mum has been through a lot in the last nine months to grow you inside her. As I write this at 9:55pm on a Sunday, I can see that she is sitting on the couch with her compression stockings still on her legs, pulled up to her mid thighs. Swelling from water retention is just one of many things she’s had to go through. She vomitted a lot in the first three months, ate a lot in the next three, and stretched a lot in the last. Her skin, that is. When skin stretches, it tears, and skin — as you’ll probably know by the time you know how to read this — is very important to a woman. (It is important to men too, but fewer of us care because, at the time you will be born, people unfortunately still scrutinise women more.)
Your mum talked to me about the pains on some evenings, but she never once said that she regrets it. And I was the one who convinced her that “we” should try and make you. She is a kind warrior. Please appreciate her more than anyone else, including me. All I did throughout the pregnancy was sit at the computer to work. It’s easy for a man with a university degree to earn a wage. By comparison, I had to sacrifice nothing to bring you into this world.
Finally, there is just one other thing I want you to know: I am already proud to be your father and I will try my best to be a good dad to you.
See you soon.