Sent through he heavens from God above;
For us to raise, hold and love.
For less than eight months, you were close and warm;
Then time passed, and you were born.
What a beautiful day, to never forget;
You squirmed and cried, so tiny and wet.
To see you and hold you, was more than we dreamed;
Your father held you close, and just simply beamed.
Experts say "don't hold him too much;
You'll spoil the lad, with your comforting touch".
You cry for a reason, my wordless one;
Even if it's, "hold me Mom, I'm your son".
There's no perfect parent, but make no mistake;
We will give you our best, whatever it takes.
Such wonders await you, both good and sad;
I wish to shelter you, from all that is bad.
For now I'll enjoy you, teaching you what I know;
Savoring each age, as you learn and grow.
May God protect you, in all that you do;
I pray in time, you will love Him too.