There was recently a parody of Meghan Trainor’s Dear Future Husband. The viral video was sang by two hopeful Minnesota dads, as they anticipated the arrival of their adopted child. They called it Dear Future Baby. It tugged at the heart strings of many, as we watched from behind our computer screens and smartphone devices. Here were two men, putting themselves out there, unabashedly declaring their love to their future child as they anticipated his or her arrival. Spoiler alert! Within months of this sweet song going viral, they were matched with a birth mother. They have now adopted a son. Congratulations, Joe and Joey!
1. There are a lot of people waiting on your arrival. I have made it my personal mission to be a self-appointed spokesperson for all things infertility. In doing so, we’ve shared this part of our lives with whoever wants to hear it. Your dad isn’t on social media, but he’s always been open about it. I love him for that. Whether people are keeping up on social media and our blog, or we have the pleasure of hanging out with them in real life, there are many kind and wonderful humans who are just as excited as we are to meet you. Take your time. We’re patient folks. Alright, that’s a lie. Your dad has the patience of a saint. Your mom? Well your mom needs you to hurry things along. Chop, chop!
2. Here’s another pretty big thing you need to know. We had a fundraiser to afford the chance to have you. I know, I know. We’re one of those people that are crowdsourcing a baby. Sounds pretty desperate, eh? I hope you’re not ashamed of us for doing this. It likely won’t be something you bring up at Show and Tell in Kindergarten. You can, by all means, but we understand if you don’t want to. Just please know that there is no shame in our game. They say (who’s they anyway?), desperate times call for desperate measures. We desperately wanted you, sweet child. And as previously stated, so many others wanted you here with us as well. Through our blog, I met a few women, and they, along with our family, made it top priority to see that we got a decent amount of money donated so we could proceed with our adopted embryo transfer. Around $8,000 to be exact. We still don’t know if it’s through this embryo transfer that we will welcome you into this world, but for right now it’s the top runner. If we were in Vegas, we’d be putting all our money on this embryo transfer. But instead of handing it to a Black Jack dealer, we are giving it to a highly trained doctor at a well renowned fertility clinic in Iowa. We’re hoping that by some time this fall, we will bust one of those adopted embryos out of their frozen daycare center, and be on our way to baby land. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. If all things go as we hope, merry might not be the best adjective used to describe our first nine months together. Can you just let your mom dream of an easy, healthy, nausea-free pregnancy sans cankles? I mean, I will do cankles if the pregnancy calls for cankles. Basically, I’d do anything to have you, my little buttercup baby. As long as your dad rubs my feet.
3. Speaking of your dad, let me tell you a few things about this guy. It’s with big, wet tears in my eyes that I write this to you. You will be the luckiest kiddo on the planet. That man has worked so hard to build a life for us. Not just a life for him and me, and your canine siblings, but for you too. So many of the decisions we make have your best interest in mind. If it weren’t for your pops, we wouldn’t be making nearly as many good ones. He’s always thinking of you. Yes, I work too, but your dad…he just seems to do some things better than me. I will ruminate on the right now and get discouraged, while he keeps his eye on our tomorrows. He got a part time job so we could put away a bit more money for you. In addition to his full time work, he’d be up past midnight some weeknights, keeping score for rec league hockey in freezing-cold ice arenas. I will harp on him sometimes when he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on with our embryo adoption process. And then I get irrational and accuse him of not caring. But he cares. Of course he cares. He cares so much. We balance each other out quite well. I might be the one doing the legwork with doctor appointments and all the little details, but I know the minute you are here (WARNING: sports analogies approaching), he will knock fatherhood out of the ballpark. He’ll effortlessly run it into the end zone. He’ll be a slam dunk dad.
4. Here’s another important one. Your dad has a best friend. His name is Jungle. My dearest future baby, let me apologize in advance for this guy you will likely refer to as Uncle Jungle. OK. I’m kidding. We love Jungle. We’re pretty sure you will too. Well, you better. Your dad and him are pretty obsessed with each other. I know they are 34 and 36, but they are bonafide besties. Your Uncle Jungle still doesn’t quite understand all we’re doing to bring you into this world, but he’s excited to meet you nonetheless.
5. I’ve been taking care of babies professionally for over eight years as a nanny. Everyone says that having my own children will be a walk in the park given what I do for a living. I always assure them that I don’t see this as being especially accurate. Sure, I’ve got a bit of knowledge under my belt, but there’s no doubt in my mind that I will look at you and burst into a fit of tears some days. Not because you are unwanted or unloved, but because somedays you will plain and simply scare the living daylights out of me. Being your mom, even though desired for over four long years, will be the hardest job of my life. No amount of nanny experience will prepare me for that. It’s a learn-as-you-go gig. I know we’ll get through it. 100% confident. Pretty sure if your dad and I can get through the long and winding road to you, we can get through anything.
I know you’ll be patient with us. Thankfully that’s a trait you’ll learn from your father. What will you get from me? An affinity for karaoke serenades, of course. I hope you like Billy Joel.
