Wednesday, March 20, 2013

To My Son

To My Son Evan,

As your father I spent 9 months waiting patiently for your arrival.  My dream of adding a son to our family was finally going to come true.   Don't get me wrong, I love your little princess sister more than anything in the world, but I can only play tea party, doll house, and baby so many times before I want to pull whatever hair I have left out (By the way you were blessed with the Clubine gene so do not plan on having a full head of hair.  Bald is beautiful!!).   She is 100% girl and I love her for that.  I will never forget your birth or the events that lead up to you being sick.   On Jan. 14th when you were born, you were the perfect son.  All I could think of was teaching you to shoot baskets, teaching you to throw a football, and teaching you all the things a boy needs to learn.  All those thoughts flooded my head as I held the perfect son.



  

Everything changed on Jan 17th when we found out that you were seriously sick.  I will never forget that helicopter ride I took with you to Little Rock.  That was the longest 50 minutes of my entire life.  I just sat there helpless as I watched you struggle to breathe inside that plastic transport box. Here is my perfect son and only a few days into his life he could be taken away from me.  All I could do was pray. At that point I knew we would need a miracle if I was going to have the opportunity to teach you all these things that I have been dreaming about.  I was really struggling with "the why" my perfect son, who was born healthy was sick.  I needed guidance and I needed strength and you helped provide that to me.




Once we got to the hospital you really showed everyone the fight and courage that you had in you.  You are a Clubine and you were not going to let this sickness keep you down for long.  You are a fighter and after that fateful night when they intubated you and you survived, I knew you would get better.  Once you made it through that terrible night, you continued to get better.  Your mother loves you so much, but she could not hear any bad/good news about you without me first prepping her for the news.  For that reason, I spent every morning with you and we gave mom and aunt Allison our own video report to show how great you were doing.   This report was our way to show mom that you were getting better regardless of whatever the Dr may say that day.  It seemed like every day was a new challenge, but you took it head on and for that I am the proudest papa on earth.


video





video


This entire process has brought our family closer to God and closer to each other.  You may never fully understand what happened to you, but I will tell you that we will never forget.  You are a miracle and I am soooo proud to call you my son.  You have changed a lot of peoples lives with your story. 




Now you are two months old and you are doing so much better.   My dreams are back to throwing a football and going to our first game together.   We have so many firsts that we will do together.  I cannot wait.  I do though want to give you a heads up, while I am a pretty manly man, there are a few things that you may have to learn from your mother.   She is actually the handyman of the house as well as the exterminator.  I hate to admit it, but your dad is terrified of spiders. She is also the better swimmer, runner, and by far the best cook.  Believe me you will want to learn how to cook something besides frozen pizza by the time you leave for college.



I will though teach you how to catch a ball, shoot a basket, grill on the grill, how to ride a bike, and a lot of other things.   Some of my favorite memories as a kid involve playing basketball with my dad in the driveway or learning to hit a golfball.  These are things every kid should get to experience with their father and I will be there to teach you.   I see so much of myself in you.   I cannot wait for this journey that we are going to take together as father and son and as a family.  I am proud of you my little fighter and love you very much. 

Love,

Your Dad Scott

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