Mine, all mine

I got my baby, my baby boy. But I've learned, he may look like me, but he's not mine.

The excitement over our pregnancy and growing baby for 40+ weeks was shared by so many friends and family all over the world. We felt the love and excitement as people checked in on the blog, sent emails, and regularly made contact to see how Um BaBay was doing. We got notes and cards and gifts even from people we had never met, but were eagerly anticipating our becoming three. We felt the love. We knew Bug would be loved.

And he was loved, we were loved, upon his arrival. We felt it. Everyone loved our boy.

But it wasn't until the past few weeks, really beginning at the crawfish boil where we were surrounded by so many people eager to get their hands on Freddie that I realized Bug is every bit yours as he is mine. I'm not expecting any contributions to the diaper, grocery, or college fund from anyone, and I completely feel the responsibility to teach him how to be responsible and appreciative and compassionate. Don't worry there. But I have an overwhelming sense that Freddie is so much more than my baby boy.

As much as I want him to be a LSU Tiger loving pacifist, I know his GG, Charlie's grandma, is going to teach him how to trash talk any teams oppposing the OU Sooners. And while I have every intetnion of enrolling him in classical piano lessons and loading Brahms on the ipod, his Papi, my daddy, is is going to have that fist pumping out the car window to "Hotel California" as they drive around town as soon as he's able to get the beat.

I know that's only the begninning. He's yours to love. He's a better kid because of it.