bria!

Luke who holds you tight to his chest while waiting for the test. Neither of you were stressed about what the outcome of the test might be. You weren’t trying, to be fair. But it was nerve wracking all the same. So he held you close, rubbing your back, kissing you softly, rambling about how he should probably finally switch out the yellow-pulling lights in the bathroom.

Luke who breathes a long sigh of relief when the test is positive. The clear words, declaring you pregnant, instantly made him smile. And it was wide, his cheeks flushing a bit before he finally said it out loud: “We’re having a baby, beautiful.”

Luke who attempts to become a scholar on prenatal care. It wasn’t just that every night you came home there seemed to be another book on various pregnancy-related topics. It was that your husband highlighted these books and stuck neon sticky notes cataloging every milestone and nutritional requirement in a new black composite notebook.

Luke who makes sure to keep the romance alive. He quickly learned during the first trimester that there were ways to mind the pregnancy in a romantic way. He developed a ritual, one that he refused to miss, of massaging your swollen ankles every night. He would speak to your bump, promising love, laughter, and a world eagerly waiting for Baby Kuechly.

Luke who requires you to eat your breakfast in his lap when your bump finally appears. He likes to sit at the table, scrolling through his notifications or reading one of his books, his hand resting on your bump until you announce you ate your breakfast, took your prenatal vitamins, and drank 40 ounces of water.

Luke who starts thinking of baby names only after finding out the baby’s sex. He had a few favorites that seemed to always loop back around: Maverick (which he was in fact dead serious about because, “It’s a strong name. He needs a strong name.”), Crew, Banks, Hunter, Tanner, Walker. You had to veto -er endings, and Maverick. Especially Maverick.

Luke who meets you where you are when seeking affection. He knows from his books that your need for affection, affirmation, and attention would wax and wane throughout the pregnancy. Though his baseline need for affection was always quite high, he knew better than to push too hard. So he meets you where you are. Some days you’re nauseous at the sight of him, other days you can’t pull yourself away from him. He’s happy to grant your wishes, whether he benefits or not.

Luke who takes your mothers out to brunch to get a realistic idea of what labor might really look like. He wants to know the nitty gritty details, the unsavory details, and just how much you might cuss him out. His mother, Eileen, needs some coaxing from your mother to really give her middle son the details he’s looking for. When he comes home, finding you awake after having left you still sleeping that morning, he’s filled with the urge to apologize in advance.

Luke who becomes increasingly more eagle-eyed as the pregnancy progresses. He wants a 10 foot bubble around you at all times. He’s the husband in the Carter’s check-out line mean mugging the poor 65-year-old woman who dared to ask if she could feel your belly. He always reminds you that it’s okay to tell people to ‘fuck off’ when you need the space. You can laugh. Just know he’s serious.

Luke who takes Lamaze classes with you, even though he constantly reminds you that the research shows this is more of a relaxation toolkit than a ticket to a pain-free birth. He knows that you know. But he needs you to know that he pays attention. He’s great at the massages and helping you into all the breathing positions. He has some opinions about the fathers who sit there looking, in his words, useless.

Luke who packs your hospital bag the moment your OB announces that baby boy has reached viability. He intends for the bag to be embroidered with ‘Kuechly’ once he gets a chance. Eileen volunteered to do it, he’s penciled her into your calendar that hangs on the fridge. You know that he checks the bag every night before going to bed. But you say nothing, inviting him into bed, and kissing him softly, thanking him for taking care of you so well.

Luke who could talk to your baby for hours if you let him. It doesn’t matter to him that your baby boy can only communicate in conveniently placed kicks. Luke swears baby boy is so intelligent that his kicks are his way of contributing to their riveting conversations about the lights he finally replaced in the master suite bathroom. He presses his cheek to your bump as he talks to your baby, needing his one-on-one time with his favorite little dude.

Luke who becomes laser-focused when your water breaks. He made sure his schedule was clear the week of your due date. When it was finally go-time, he was more than prepared. He had his sticky notes, memorized the most important points and signs to look for, so he knew that he knew what to do. He spoke minimally from that point on, conserving his energy to ensure he could help you advocate for yourself now that your baby’s arrival was in nature’s hands.

Luke who loses his composure when your baby is born. He spent the entire labor and birth at your side, holding your hand, blotting your sweat, telling you that you were more than capable of delivering your baby safe and sound, and maybe, allegedly, snapped at an observing resident who attempted to downplay your vocalized discomfort. But once your baby boy was safely tucked into his arms, he cried. It wasn’t a sob. But there were tears and a quiver in his lip. He was finally holding and seeing this baby that he saw grow from a grape to a living, breathing human boy that he swears he will protect with his life.

Luke who is so excited to tell anyone who will listen that he’s officially a dad to a baby boy named Xavier. He took pride in the fact that he was the one to suggest the name that you loved so much. The connection to his high school didn’t hurt either. He showed his little baby off to anyone with even 5 minutes of time, told them his name with a proud little smile, happy to confirm that those curls were a little bit of him but mostly his darling mama’s.

Luke who brings your baby to your bed every morning. He is always the first to wake at any hint of audible distress from Xavier. But in the morning, when the sun is peeking through the windows, and your baby boy is cooing softly to himself in his crib. Luke is up immediately, walking with purpose to his crib, kissing his forehead, checking his nappy, and bringing him into bed for those precious early morning infant cuddles that he’s been told will be gone before he knows it.

Luke who sincerely believes his baby carrier goes with every outfit. Once Xavier is able to hold his head up, the carrier is used extensively. Luke loves having your baby boy strapped to his chest, for the convenience, for the pseudo cuddles, and to conduct their long, intellectual conversations.

Luke who still talks to your baby for hours. No one can get baby Xavier to babble more than his father. And Luke responds every single time. Some common topics of discussion include: how pretty Mommy looks in the morning, the appropriate temperature for morning bottles, and reviews of Luke’s morning coffee. So when Xavier says his first word, ‘Dada’, at 9 months, absolutely no one is surprised.

Luke who almost never calls your baby by his legal name. It’s Zay, Xave, little dude, champ, never Xavier.

Luke who has never raised his voice at your baby boy. Xavier is an active toddler. He likes to ask questions, run wild, and play around with a clumsy confidence instilled in him by his father who will always cast a watchful, protective eye over him. Naturally, he gets into trouble. He’s drawn on walls, broken vases, and yanked on the dog’s tail. But Luke never loses his cool, never raises his voice. He corrects, he explains, and he redirects with a reminder of how much love he has for his son.

Luke who swears he won’t coach his son. It’s not for lack of interest, that couldn’t be further from his truth. And it’s not because he wouldn’t be able to be tough on his blood. He says no because he fears he would be too tough, too invested in success that Xavier might not even want for himself. So even though he’s hated all three Little League coaches Xavier has by the age of 6—“I mean, if you let them just swing the bat around like that, they won’t learn the right mechanics. It only makes it ten times harder once they graduate to larger bats, honey. He’s lazy is all I’m saying. Which is fine... they’re 4, but I don’t like it. I’ll have to read up on the proper mechanics for his age. Get some work in out in the yard.”—he decides that ranting to you is good enough until Xavier is old enough to really take sports seriously.

Luke who answers every, “Why?” Xavier has questions. And those questions need answers before he can move on. Luke has found the patience to never dismiss a question, no matter how repetitive or absurd. Sometimes it was about why the sky was blue or where all the animals they saw on their hike went when it rained. If Luke didn’t know the answer, Google was just a first clicks away so they could discover together.

Luke who holds Xavier’s hand all the way through the hallway on his first day of Kindergarten. The two of you really tried your best to prepare him for what school would be like. He went to preschool, knew how to write his full name, his address, and his parent’s names. He knew that he should wash his hands every time he used the bathroom, that he should make sure his water bottle was closed tight after refilling it, how to share, when to take a break if he was getting frustrated, and to say please and thank you. Luke had expressed to you his worries and you shared them equally. But once that first day rolled around, all he could do was hold Xavier’s hand, remind him that you would pick him up at the end of the day, and there would be fruit gummies waiting for him if he ate all the veggies packed in his lunch box.

Luke who cries after Kindergarten drop-off. He makes it from the school back to the car but once you were seated, he’s crumbling; just the way he did when he held him for the first time in the delivery room.