Hello, Nicholas...
Dear son,
Today your mother and I went to St. Luke's Roosevelt Hospital for her twenty-week ultrasound. A nice nurse named Beulah scanned you and took some pictures to make sure everything was okay. Everything was nice and normal, which was great to hear for your mother and me, since we are first-time parents. The ultrasound images were really amazing. We could see your heart beating, your spine, your kidneys, the bones in your fingers, your face, every tiny inch of you. You sucked your thumb, opened and closed your hands like you were waving, and had the hiccups. We heard your heartbeat, too. It sounded like a powerful engine. We even saw inside your head into your brain, so growing up when you thought we could read your mind, now you know why.
You moved around a lot, which was why it was a little difficult to determine your sex for sure up until now. Dr. Headley, the OB/GYN told us over three weeks ago that she was eighty percent sure your were a boy, but we wanted to wait till we were a hundred percent sure before we told anyone. I mean, what if we told everybody you were a boy and it turned out you were a girl? You'd be stuck with all these pink clothes and dolls and stuff.
Nurse Beulah could tell right away and when she confirmed it, your mom burst into tears. We were both so happy and proud to have a son. Neither one of us would have minded a girl, of course. Our primary concern was that our child be healthy, and you are, thank God. All we care about is that you're happy and healthy. But I know both sets of your grandparents are thrilled out of their minds, because you're their first grandson. I'll be honest with you, son, I'm proud as hell, too. I love you already and I haven't even met you yet. I know it must sound totally illogical; you'll only fully understand when you become a parent yourself someday.
We're going to name you Nicholas Peter, after my father and your mom's father. I'm trying to convince your mother to let me give the middle name of "Danger," so you'll always be able to say things like, "Danger is my middle name." She doesn't seem too thrilled with the idea for now, but I've still got about four months to work on her.
Four months is hardly any time at all, and yet I think it'll take forever. Hurry up and get here safe, kid. I can't wait to meet you.
Love,
Dad
Today your mother and I went to St. Luke's Roosevelt Hospital for her twenty-week ultrasound. A nice nurse named Beulah scanned you and took some pictures to make sure everything was okay. Everything was nice and normal, which was great to hear for your mother and me, since we are first-time parents. The ultrasound images were really amazing. We could see your heart beating, your spine, your kidneys, the bones in your fingers, your face, every tiny inch of you. You sucked your thumb, opened and closed your hands like you were waving, and had the hiccups. We heard your heartbeat, too. It sounded like a powerful engine. We even saw inside your head into your brain, so growing up when you thought we could read your mind, now you know why.
You moved around a lot, which was why it was a little difficult to determine your sex for sure up until now. Dr. Headley, the OB/GYN told us over three weeks ago that she was eighty percent sure your were a boy, but we wanted to wait till we were a hundred percent sure before we told anyone. I mean, what if we told everybody you were a boy and it turned out you were a girl? You'd be stuck with all these pink clothes and dolls and stuff.
Nurse Beulah could tell right away and when she confirmed it, your mom burst into tears. We were both so happy and proud to have a son. Neither one of us would have minded a girl, of course. Our primary concern was that our child be healthy, and you are, thank God. All we care about is that you're happy and healthy. But I know both sets of your grandparents are thrilled out of their minds, because you're their first grandson. I'll be honest with you, son, I'm proud as hell, too. I love you already and I haven't even met you yet. I know it must sound totally illogical; you'll only fully understand when you become a parent yourself someday.
We're going to name you Nicholas Peter, after my father and your mom's father. I'm trying to convince your mother to let me give the middle name of "Danger," so you'll always be able to say things like, "Danger is my middle name." She doesn't seem too thrilled with the idea for now, but I've still got about four months to work on her.
Four months is hardly any time at all, and yet I think it'll take forever. Hurry up and get here safe, kid. I can't wait to meet you.
Love,
Dad
posted by The Walkin Dude at 4:52 PM
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