I want you to know that I haven't been sleeping . . . see, we're waiting for a phone call, and my mind is on high alert. Each little noise - the wind, a dog's snore, my own creaky joints creaking - makes me think that it might be a phone ringing, and I'm waking myself up, just in case
I want you to know that I'm more excited than I've ever been in my life. I've had some great moments, but this is pushing all of them aside.
I want you to know that you're entering into a world that is going to love you. People I barely know can't wait to hear about you. People love you without even knowing your name. Everybody is just so excited for your arrival.
I want you to know that I'm scared. You're going to be quite the responsibility -- I've never doubted my ability or desire to be a father, but I hope I don't let you down.
I want you to know that I'm going to spoil you. Sure, I'll put up a hard face sometimes, but you'll likely always, always win.
I want you to know that family is not just blood -- you're going to have grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins -- some will be related to you, some will not. All of them will love you.
I want you to know that I can't wait to introduce you to everybody. I don't know your name yet, but you're already my pride & joy.