For You, Nugget

Happy Father’s Day, everyone!

June 14th, 2025 – I’m back by the lake on a sunny Saturday night. The breeze is perfect, just enough to ripple the water, and the waves are gently tapping against the bulkhead. After another wild week of entry-level entrepreneurship, this is exactly what I needed.

But we’ll get back to business next week.

Because this edition…
Isn’t for you.
It isn’t for me.
It’s for them.

My future child.

Kallie and I are finally going to be parents.
I say “finally” because I’ll be 39 by the time they arrive—but as I’ve said before, we don’t get to control the timeline.

What I do know is this: God brought this blessing into our lives exactly when He was supposed to.

Every ounce of work Kallie and I have poured into ourselves—every challenge, every tear, every ounce of healing—was for this.

And now that we’re here…
It’s all been worth it.

Dear Nugget
 (That’s what we’ve been calling you since we won’t find out if you’re a boy or girl until you arrive)

I found out you were coming into this world just over a month ago.
And the moment I heard your heartbeat… I fell in love.

Your mom and I’s journey to this moment has been anything but linear.

The way we met wasn’t clean or easy. We were selfish in the beginning and unfortunately hurt people along the way. That’s not something we’re proud of—but it’s part of our story. One we’ll tell you someday, not to justify it, but so you can learn from it. Because we believe everything happens for a reason. Especially the hard stuff.

I remember the moment I fell in love with your mom.
We were somewhere in Nevada, driving across the country.
The sun hit her blue eyes just right, and they lit up like sapphires.
I was done.
Right there, I knew.
I tried to fight it, but I knew.

It didn’t make sense.
The timing was terrible.
But for some reason, the universe tied a red string between us, and no matter how far we pulled or how much chaos we created, that thread always led us back to each other.

Soon after, she moved to Mentor—somewhere I’m sure you’ll get to know. We loaded up her whole life in my white Silverado and drove to the condo I had just bought, wondering what the hell we were doing. People said we were crazy. They told us we wouldn’t last six months.

And in all honesty… I wasn’t so sure either.

I was still an unhealed man back then. I thought love would fix me. I placed that weight on her shoulders without even realizing it. Your mom had her own healing to do as well, which made the beginning of our relationship intense—fireworks and hand grenades. Passionate. Exciting. Sometimes a bit toxic.

But the red string remained. And every time we drifted, we grabbed it and found our way back.

Over time, we learned how to fight for each other instead of against each other. We learned how to communicate. How to hold space. What love truly meant.

Then, in 2021—four years before we found out about you—your mom called me from home while I was at the grocery store down the road.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, her voice shaking.

We weren’t trying to have kids. We weren’t ready. I knew I wasn’t.

At that point, I didn’t have a clear purpose. No set of values. No real vision for my life. I was 34 and still hadn’t fully become a man. And now I was going to be a dad.

I was terrified.

But something shifted. That fear started to fade, and love started to grow. I knew I would figure it out because I had to. Because deep down, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a good man—and no matter what it took, with your mom’s love and support, I knew I’d get there.

And then… heartbreak.

At the first ultrasound, the doctor couldn’t find the baby. Maybe your mom wasn’t as far along as we thought… or maybe it was a miscarriage. The uncertainty was devastating.

That same day, your mom collapsed at home.

I came back from the store and heard a crash upstairs. I ran up and found her passed out—half in the bedroom, half in the hallway, white as a ghost. When she finally opened her eyes, her pupils were blown wide. I thought I was going to lose her.

I called 911. The Perry Fire Department showed up fast. Her blood pressure was 72/40 (yes, that’s bad). I’ve never been that scared in my life.

She was rushed to the hospital where we learned it was an ectopic pregnancy. The baby hadn’t made it to her uterus. For some reason, it was growing in the wrong place, and before we knew what was happening, it ruptured inside of her.

We lost your big brother or sister that day.
And we almost lost your mom too.

That day left invisible scars on both of us.
Scars we didn’t talk about much at first—but we felt them every day.

We kept trying. And she got pregnant again. And again. Each time ended in heartbreak.

People told us to see specialists. To lean on modern medicine. To adopt.

But your mom had a knowing.
She trusted her body, her intuition, her faith.
She believed in her own timing.

By the time you read this, none of that will surprise you. She’s truly incredible.

And then, years later, we found ourselves in a doctor’s office in Texas.
This time, it was you.

I was bracing myself for more pain… but then, there it was—your heartbeat.

The sound of your life.
The loudest, most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
I sobbed. We both did.

For a moment, I questioned if I was having a heart attack—but luckily it was just my heart being overwhelmed with love.

The truck ride home felt like we were floating. Your mom went into planning mode and I had to remind her—let’s not plan just yet. Let’s just feel this moment. Let’s just sit with the joy.

And for once, we didn’t rush.
We just… were.

Now, Nugget, I want to leave you with a few things.

Some advice.
And some promises.

Advice

• Ask questions and ask them often. Curiosity is the root of learning, and it’s never a burden.
  

• Tell the truth. Always. It’s hard, but lies are very heavy to carry.
  

• Focus on your actions, not the timeline. You can’t control when things happen. Only how you show up.
  

• Take ownership. We all make mistakes, and blame gives away your power. Own it all and learn from it.
  

• Lead with love. If it’s not coming from love… don’t do it.
  

• Follow your heart and chase your dreams—especially when it scares you. People will try to dictate your path, but only you know what’s right for you.
  

(And yes—I’m your dad, I know I’ll sound old and cheesy. But one day—hopefully not too far from now—you’ll get it.)

Promises

• I’ll make mistakes. But I’ll own them and share them so you can learn from them.
  

• I’ll always tell you the truth, even when it’s hard.
  

• I’ll keep growing—mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically—so I can keep showing up for you.
  

• I’ll hold you accountable from love, not fear.
  

• I’ll never shame you for your mistakes. I’ll hold space for you to share them, and I’ll always give you my honest advice—while respecting the decisions you make.
  

• I’ll be your strength. I can’t protect you from everything in this world, but I’ll do my best to prepare you to face it.
  

• And I’ll love you—always and forever.
  

I cannot wait to meet you.
Your mom and I are beyond grateful that God chose us to be your parents.

Whatever life brings… we’ll face it together.

Love always,
Dad

Song

Brothers Osborner, Stay a Little Longer: Music has always been woven into the fabric of your mom and I’s relationship. From long road trips to impromptu dance sessions in the kitchen, it’s been the soundtrack to some of our best memories.

This song—this is the one I proposed to.

Every time I hear it, I see her.
I see us.
I feel the warmth of those early moments and the depth of everything we’ve built since.

It reminds me of why I chose her… and why I’d choose her a thousand times over.