You were born on an early Tuesday evening. When you burst into this world it wasn’t with all the screaming and crying you visualize from all the movies and tv shows where you watch babies pop out screaming. You didn’t make a peep and you weren’t doing much else either. They were trying to get you going and you weren’t having it just quite yet. I was in a daze watching the nurses wake you up and didn’t realize the situation until one of them yelled to get a specialist and then I froze. I had only seen you for a brief moment and now I didn’t know if I’d ever get to know you. By the time that thought entered my head you let out a scream loud enough to let me know everything was ok. The nurse’s shoulders dropped and I could feel your soul enter the room. Your mom was so out of it from the epidural. I was thankful that she wasn’t aware of the situation. It might’ve lasted 30 seconds but it felt like a moment frozen in time that’s still there to this day in my memory. I watched it on replay a thousand times. I have a bad habit of doing that with traumatic memories.

You were so tiny but perfect. You had olive skin, clear eyes and a soft disposition. I didn’t want to hold you at the time because I thought you’d break. I had only met you 15 minutes before and already my instincts were fierce. I would’ve died for you right there. Lord whatever ailment that might come for my daughter please make it come through me first. As long as I stand in the way the devil himself will do an abrupt face.

Watching your mother cup you in her hands I could hear a little bell go off. Like a level had been completed. Like the little bell that goes off in your navigation when you cross a state line. *ding “you are now a family”

My hands shook as I tried to put your car seat in my truck. The nurses assisted me because I needed to know that car seat could and would contain and protect our most precious cargo. I was terrified. You didn’t come with instructions and I had never spent more than 3 seconds around a newborn much less take home one to reckon with. It had been 25 years since I had changed a diaper or bottle fed a baby (my nephew) and even then I had backup assistance with my mom who’d changed and fed a bus full of babies in her parental career.

We kept you in a bassinet and took turns feeding you in the middle of the night while the other dragged themselves upstairs to get some sleep. You were feisty when you got hungry. You’d kick and scream and cry. I’d sit there on the sofa with you at 4am while you’d scream. Patting your back until you finally succumbed to exhaustion as did I.

I remember the first night you slept through I jumped out of bed to see if you were breathing. Something I had done about a quarter of a million times over the previous 6 weeks and you were just snoring away. After that day you slept like a baby should sleep for most of your young career. Even at an early age I’d take you running with me and hiking. You’d fall asleep in your jogging stroller while I humped it around Cleveland park. Sometimes you’d just look up at me and smile while I ran. Those big ol brown eyes and your toothless grin. You were always smiling as a baby and I’m thankful for that because if there’s any litmus test that shows you’re raising a baby with love it’s the constant smile on their face. We’d hike around creeks and I’d dip your tiny toes in the cool water and use my bandana to dab your face when you snacked.

I was put on this ball to ensure that. It’s a duty that brings me the most joy.

I’d walk you around downtown to show you off. I’d give you a pinky of warm coffee just to watch your face squish. If I was guaranteed a carbon copy of you I could’ve had 10 more babies. My wife disapproves of this statement..

I think every father wishes for a son to forge into his likeness but I can’t imagine not being a girl father. It’s softened me to the core and buddy did I need that to settle into this life correctly.

You were always stubborn with food. I can’t say where you get your hardheadedness from because you’re family is full of them. I’d break green beans trying to put them in your mouth and you’d spit them out and smile. I could never get mad at you.

You rolled over for the first time on my feet while your mother brushed her hair in your nana’s bathroom in Mobile. It’s funny how easy it is to remember the firsts. You crawled for the first when I placed my shiny silver wedding band on the floor in our bedroom. I’d place it two feet in front of you and you’d slowly reach for it. I’d pull it away and you’d scrunch your butt up in the air and push forward. 2 minutes later you were a baby Roomba crawling everywhere. Then I spent the next few months scouring that floors to make sure you didn’t eat everything. I can recall quite clearly rolling you over to play with you and watching a shiny screw slide down the back of your throat. You started choking and there had to be a guardian angel with me because I calmly reached my fingers down your throat while your face was slowly turning blue and pulled it out without a hiccup. Once I could see you were fine and dandy I proceeded to go outside and bawl like you did for about 20 minutes. I probably swept and vacuumed that house a million times the next two years or until you lost your taste for floor goodies.

Your first word was kitty. As I took you upstairs to nap and little LT (our cat) walked by you pointed and said “kiki”. Now you’re growing up to be a cat person like your father.

The first time I heard you say Dada it was when I came upstairs to pick you up from your nap. You were standing up in your crib with a big smile and screamed “DADA” and well you already had my heart but damn there was more leftover to take I suppose. I remember that moment like it was 12 seconds ago.

I never missed one pediatrician visit with you. Not one. I wanted to cry with you every shot you had to take. One doctor almost took a dive out of the window because I didn’t like the way he grabbed your arm when you tried to jerk it away.

As you got older I started to see more and more parts of our bloodline in you.

You have my eyes and some of my nose. Certain angles I see my father in you. We all have serious brown eyes that sometimes don’t want to smile with the rest of our face.

You have your Gaga’s family ears. Your great grandfather and my brother would tell you the same if they were still around.

You have your mother and grandmother’s face so I see the Jones in you every time I look at you. When you smile big with your teeth I see your mother’s and Nana’s smile. Your mother’s face, I fell in love with. Your grin I will always see my mother’s face when she used to smile down at me to kiss me goodnight.

You have your Gaga’s pride. You have a gentle soul but when pushed I see that fire. I used to think it was all my mother’s but all these years with your mother I’ve come to realize I’m not the one in this household you have to worry about if someone hurts you. You have your mother’s fire. If you can inherit grudges well you don’t stand a chance.

You’re growing like a flower and it would seem you’ve inherited the height of the Regans. Your uncles are all smart on that side of the family and your great grandfather was an amazing man. You got some good stock in you kid.

You got the best parts of me. The love of a sunset. Odd sense of humor, the need for solitude. The color orange when it’s football season.

You have your mother’s heart, her skin and love of the beach. Man how I miss pulling you around on your little inner tube at the gulf, watching you giggle as drifted you towards the lazy river waterfalls. Your little goggles and floaties. Jesus you grow up so fast.

If there’s truly a heaven, mine would be reliving these finest of moments.

I love how you can talk to your mother about anything and how you always feel safe and protected around me. We’ve always done our best to communicate to each other and support each other in your presence even in the worst of days. I want you to be able to tell the generation you become a part of that your parents loved each other greatly. It’s paramount to both of us. Honoring your mother is one of the best ways I can show my love for you.

Every single day I look at you and smile in disbelief. I helped create this. No other project, mission, task or creation that I’ve been involved in has come close. I’ve never perfected anything other than you.

I enjoy our talks while I drive you to school. I enjoy making up lyrics and ruining your favorite songs like I’ve done to your mother so many times. Our weekly stops at Starbucks and convos inside Harris teeter market. You’re my best little friend.

Our cross country trip to see Mount Rushmore. Driving 1700 miles just to see that smile on your face. Worth it. I’d do it again tomorrow and hope one day we will. I missed so much time trying to build a better world for you. I’m still working on it but my priorities have changed.

When you cry I cry. You’ve never seen it although you’ve come close. I’m an old school proud redneck. You aren’t suppose to see your father cry. I remember when you posted how proud you were of me for going one year sober and when I read it I had to excuse myself from the table so I could compose myself. I cried when you bought me that giant pillow for me to sleep with to help my back with your own money.

I don’t lose on purpose when we play games anymore. You beat me more than I beat you now. I’m ok with that although I did beat you last night in Mario kart.

I hope I stay with these little blogs and you read them from time to time. I wish my parents had with me. Sometimes I feel like I only knew them as parents and not regular folk.

Father’s Day has never been about me. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy the REI gift cards and all but it’s more about what I’ve become for me. If there’s any activity I perform and try to grow and get gains daily it’s being your father. My work ethic in that subject will never falter.

Thank you for all daddy experiences. My life only gets better watching you grow into your own.