baby, im scared

Just the other day, I shared a very special piece with a very special group of readers who graciously left their reviews for the entire Leverage & Love series. Now that the dust has settled and they've spent more time with Jhalil & Wilde, I felt that I could introduce the rest of you all to an entry they had a chance to experience. Enjoy. 


It felt like forever since I had seen it. Written in it. Revisited my thoughts. I needed it, desperately, as my next breath. With the birth of the baby happening at any moment, my anxiety was getting the best of me. I needed to realign my thoughts, be reminded of my endurance and simply release whatever was inside of me.


“Got it.”

Relief washed over me, situating itself in my frame as I lowered my limbs into Jhalil’s chair at his desk. I’d been searching for my diary for all of ten minutes and was thankful to have finally found it. Flipping through the pages, I lost count of the red and blue strips of sticky notes that Jhalil had placed on certain pages of my diary. I had every intention of asking him exactly what they meant later. For now, I needed to write. I needed to release.

Disappointment settled in when I realized I’d used every page of the diary. In fact, there wasn’t a single space on any of the other pages to pour my thoughts. I began to hyperventilate as I rummaged through the drawers for a second time, praying I could find some bound paper to serve as my canvas.

In the same drawer I’d gotten my own diary, there was another. It was blue in color with red stitching. Grabbing it without further thought, I busted it down the middle. On one side, there was an empty page, but the other was filled with writing.

His writing.

Scribbles and horrific penmanship started me in the eyes. I tossed a few pages towards the right. More writing. My heart danced in my chest, grooving against my chest cavity. His most intimate thoughts of me were displayed, much like mine to him. Landing on the first page, I noted that he’d began his journal the day after I returned to his door.

Before long, my anxiety subsided, eyes burned, chest pained and head ached. Jhalil. My Jhalil had responded to each and every diary entry I’d written to him. His corresponding messages were so cryptic, yet so revealing.

As much of my heart I’d poured into those pages, he managed to pour more. I’d always been a winner. But, with Jhalil, there was no beating him. Admittedly, he loved me more. He cared for me more. He needed me more. He was more. He was more for me than I could ever be for him.

For hours, I stayed tucked away in his study, reading as if I’d stumbled upon the greatest book known to man. And it was. Or, the greatest book known to me at least. The final page was startling. Because his journal was twice the size of my diary, he’d responded to every entry of mine and still had room for more. The final page of his was not a response, but a personal entry.

The first words tore through my chest like a tornado through a small town that was ill-prepared and unequipped.


Baby, I’m scared.


Baby, I’m scared. I hardly know what to do. As I see your belly growing each day, it is hard to keep up the charade with you.

Fatherhood scares the living shit out of me. Please, tell me, how do you manage it so effortlessly? I’m trying to practice and Camden is great experience, but he’s not the age Joelle will be when our life of four commences.

So many great qualities have been instilled in him, already. I have you to thank for the amazing son you’ve given of whom I’ve never had. But, I have a strange feeling that with Joelle, things will be all bad.

Not on your end, but on mine. This will be your second time. Your confidence in motherhood is one thing that no one can take and for good reason. But, this for me is new territory. A brand new season.

I’m deeply flawed and unsure of myself for once. I can hardly believe that I’m even admitting it, but after reading and responding to your confessions of shortcomings I felt that I’d be a disservice to myself by keeping it bottled.

No, this isn’t as long and as deep as I’d planned for it to be. But, if you should ever read this, talk to me.

Respond please.

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