Monday, January 4, 2010
The last time I flew from Anchorage to Tampa I brought this fish. This was the first salmon April liked - guess she liked the guy who brought it too.
I miss you- ok, I miss your mom -- but I miss you too. For two weeks I had you with me- where I could watch you by your effect on your mom. I got to see you - waving to us in the ultrasound-- and finally, I got to hear your little heartbeat. But now you are back in Tampa with your mom and I miss you.
I'm headed to Alaska- where I was born and raised - and where you were conceived. Then I will head from Anchorage and fly overnight to Tampa. The last time I did that flight is when I met your mother -- now I am going back to see your mom, but also to see you.
So when I get to Tampa- I'm going to kiss and hug your mom - then I am going to put my hand on her belly and say hi to you. And, silly as it sounds- your dad is going to have his stethoscope with him - just cause I'll want to hear you.
Your mom and I hate being apart - but at least when she is there you can keep her company. Someday, when you are older than a fresh plum (and bigger then one) - your dad will have to take a trip - and he will miss you just as much as he does now. When your dad comes home, I will still hug and kiss your mom first - but then I will come over- put my hand on you. But don't worry- I won't bring a stethoscope home- seeing your smile will be enough.