A letter to my son

Dear (We're not sure yet) Edward Connell,

It's almost 1 am, Christmas morning, 2011. We just found out last night that you are my son. My first born. There are no words for me to describe how excited I am. Things have been rough lately, financially. Mom and I just don't have much money. We decided that we weren't going to buy presents (we're both not good at the follow-through on that, we've each bought presents for each other through money we've saved up diligently). But here's the truth, mom's holding the best present I've ever received. She's carrying you around, keeping you warm and safe until I get to finally meet you.

Buddy, I can't wait. I've never been so excited in my whole life. I've always loved the Christmas season, and I'll be honest, I always thought I understood the feelings of Advent. But, I didn't know anything. This is a completely new experience. The expectation and excitement are almost unbearable.

There are some things I want to tell you right now, though.

First off, life isn't always going to be easy. It's not easy being a man. God has given us incredible responsibilities. I don't have a legacy of training in that area, in fact, my training for manhood wasn't the greatest. Grandma Connell (Breitenbach) did everything she could, but women can't teach young boys how to become men. I promise you, I'm going to do my absolute best to teach you how to become a man, and more than that, I'm going to show you how to be a man of God. I'm going to love your mom more than anyone in this world, and I want you to go to bed knowing that there isn't a human being on earth that I love more. Trust me, this is important.

Second, it's okay to cry. In fact, I'm having trouble not crying as I write this, because I am just... so excited. Don't ever let someone tell you that men don't cry. They do, and they should.

Third, we're going to have so much fun. I am so excited to teach you about the pin-stripes. I hope you grow up to be a Yankees fan like me. We're going to go to baseball games, we're going to eat hot dogs and hope to catch foul balls (or home runs).

Fourth, I want you to know something. This is of the utmost importance. Han shot first. Don't let George Lucas tell you otherwise. Han is a pirate. He shot Greedo. That's okay, it doesn't make us like Han less.

Fifth, dude, it's okay to be a nerd. I struggled my whole life with not wanting to be a nerd, even though I liked the nerdiest things. It's alright. There's so much fun to be had while you're a nerd.

Six, there's an ongoing debate and I want you to understand the Connell position on this debate. There's no chance. Literally, no chance, that Superman would lose in a fight to Batman. The earlier you can grasp this truth, the better.

Seven, I could handle it if you like the Jedi more than the Sith. I promise, I could. But I really will not let you feel anything but negativity for the Gungans and Ewoks. Listen, they were mistakes. They shouldn't have been in the movies, seriously. There's no reason for them. We, the Connell family, do NOT like them.

Eight, it's alright to listen to Christmas music in August. Seriously, there's no reason not to celebrate Christ all year long. It's okay, don't let people tell you otherwise.

Nine, I need to pause here to tell you how important this is. I've given you a lot of information, but this is really important so hold on a second and listen up. There are a lot of things I can handle. You think Star Trek is better than Star Wars? Okay, I can live with that. You like the Reds and not the Yankees? That's fine. You want to watch Barney repeatedly? You got it. You can do a lot of things and I'll be alright, but there's on thing that I will not accept. Someday, you're going to be older, and you'll start thinking about college. It's an awesome time, people are sending you mail... you feel like a rock star. You'll get mail for a University in Ohio. It's a place called Cedarville. Listen, if you even consider going there, you'll be changing your name and finding a new place to live. We are Cougars, forever.

Ten, I realize, some of this is silly, that's who I am. You'll get used to it.

Eleven, I'm here for you. Son, I'm always here for you. I can write this now because I know it will be true when you can finally read it, I'm so proud of you.

You are my little man, my buddy, "my guy," and I just can't wait to meet you.

"You are my beloved son, in whom I am well-pleased." (Mt 3:17)

I love you so much,

Dad

Big Announcement!

That's right, Baby Connell is a BOY!!!!

Now, I'd like to say something serious.

"Dear Unborn Connell Lad,

I'm truly sorry that your decency has been exposed and ruined by an overeager father. I sincerely promise that this will, under no circumstances, be the last time I embarrass you, though.

Love,
Dad"

Why I can't wait to be a dad...

I love playing tricks... I just love it, and soon, I'll have little children whose lives I can ruin by playing tricks on them, and that sure makes me excited!

Protector. What an incredible calling.

A week ago, Israel and I were at the gym. We always go at the unholy 6 o’clock hour. Every Tuesday I wonder why in the world we do it so early, but he seems to love going that early. So, we go.

This Tuesday started like any other Tuesday, I woke up before Holly, which only happens once during the weekdays. I got going and made my way for the gym after kissing Holly goodbye. While I was at the gym, we had just finished running, I got a text from Holly saying that she was having a headache and suggested that we ask her doctor about it the next day at our appointment.

I put my phone in a cubby and we started lifting. It was completely unremarkable until someone knocked at the door of the gym. That, in and of itself, makes for a completely different type of visit to the gym. Israel went to see who was at the door and it was my sister-in-law.

Anytime someone starts the conversation with “Don’t freak out,” your first inclination is to freak out.

“Holly was in an accident, but she’s okay.”

Panic. Absolute panic.

We made our way to where my pregnant wife was in some condition. I had no idea what I would find when I got there. Once I got there, I saw a firetruck, 2 state highway patrol cars and an ambulance.

I found Holly in the ambulance, sitting there talking to the trooper.

She was okay.

We called the OB while we were waiting for the tow truck, and they said it sounded like everything was okay. They said if anything seemed wrong we should come in immediately.

Thus began 24 hours of uncertainty. Thus began 24 hours of doubt. Thus began 24 hours of me wondering how I could let this happen.

I couldn’t get my own panic out of my head. I am completely confident that I’m supposed to be the protector for Holly and the baby, and here we were in a state where I didn’t know if the baby was okay.

As far as I knew, I had completely let my growing family down.

We went to the doctor the next day and she said, “we’ll listen for the baby’s heartbeat.” That was it, the moment of truth. Was Baby Connell still alive? Was (s)he okay?

A month ago, the doctor found the heartbeat in a couple of seconds. I was confident that we’d hear his (or her) little heart beating.

It felt like hours of agony as she searched and searched. My heart fell into the bottom of my stomach.

There was no heartbeat. And then she found it.

The last time, it was neat… but didn’t change my life (as I wrote about then).

This time, it was completely different. I let out a (very) audible sigh. S/he was okay. I wasn’t a total failure.

I realize, I probably overreacted. I may have been a little crazy. But I’m confident of this, I’ve never felt like that in my whole life. I’ve never been so glad to hear a sound as I was to hear that heartbeat.

They could tell me the baby was alright all they wanted, but until I heard it for myself, I didn’t have any idea.

So, last week, my life was turned upside down. I realize now, more than ever, that I’m in charge of protecting and caring for this family of mine. I can’t wait to hold this little baby in my arms, and I’ll never let anything happen to him (or her).