Week 11

Dear Embreu:

Well, it's that time again...that time when your Dad rambles and meanders around the English language trying to grasp for the words to convey to you, my unborn child, how excited I am about your impending arrival. Yes, that's right. It is, once again, time for Daddy's Journal Entry.

Today, I want to talk about worry. I'm sure the people reading this are saying, "Worry?? I thought these were supposed to be happy journal entries?" Yes, that's right....worry. There is much excitemnet in your Daddy's life right now. However, accompanying that excitement is a heavy dose of worry.

I worry about many, many things. As always, I worry about Mommy. I always worry about Mommy because she is the best, and we (you and I, Embreu) shall never forget this. She is nice to everyone. This makes Daddy concrerned because it's his job to make sure that Mommy is always safe. It's not that Mommy can't take care of herself, it's just that Daddy.....well, he's a paranoid, over-protective freak when it comes to Mommy. So, yeah, I worry about Mommy.

Second, I worry about you. This is going to sound strange, but there are times that I think very little about you. These are usually the first several days after we have a checkup. We go in to the doctor's office, you show off your robust health for everyone, and then we go home happy.....and I don't worry. At least, not for a while. Daddy sits back and relaxes, and is as content as a man with a healthy wife and fetus gets. Life is a beer commercial...beautiful women (mommy, of course), sports (go cardinals), and beer (not for mommy, of course).

But then something funny happens. That Thursday of the month when you show of your robust health for everyone is fast approaching. Worry and doubt start to creep in. The beer commercial is over, except for maybe that one where the referees come and steal all the beer. Will Mommy and Embreu still be healthy?? Suddenly, Daddy doesn't know. And you know what else? There's not a damn thing that he can do about it either...except hold it inside and let his worry eat away at him because that's the healthiest (manliest?) way to handle it.

But then something else happens. Thursday finally comes. We go and visit Captain Gyno, and you know what happens?? Yeah, we still wait, but after that. You once again show off your robust health for everyone. Ah, the relief is sweet.

So, daddy may be driving himself crazy, but you my friend, you are one consistent, hard working fetus. So yeah, next month I'll be worried, but for now life is back to being a beer commercial. My wife is still beautiful, my fetus is healthy, and my mind is back at ease. The only thing that I can think to say is: It doesn't get any better than this.

Love,
Daddy