Imran.

Not Ibrahim. Imran? Yup. Imran.

He is the reason why 2013 will be unforgettable for me and his mum. A gift from Allah.
We experience few moments (only few) in our life where 'happy' isn't strong enough to capture the intensity of our ecstasy. Not 'elated', not overjoyed. Nothing. In such moment, you just scream for joy or simply smile like I did on the birth of my son.

The wait was killing. More than his mum who carried him for 9months with the associated discomforts and sacrifices, I just couldn't wait. Especially at the threshold of the last trimester. It was just like a must win football game heading into the 70th minutes. Anxiety increased. So was my imagination. Many thoughts. What would he look like? When will it happen. Will I be around when it happens. How do I carry him. Whom do I call first? I imagined the color of his eyes, texture of his hair, shape of his nose, fingernails (how I love fingers of new born).

And not forgetting how I became acquainted with pregnancy terminologies. Edd, contraction, mother craft, water breaking etc. His mum wanted him on a weekend. Me? I just wanted him ASAP.

And the nine month course came to a screeching halt. Not like we weren't expecting. Of course we were. The moment is without predictive precision. On the 25th of November, our bundle of joy arrived in the early hours. I was speechless. Grateful. And full of smiles. I have conveniently excused the agony of labour his mum went through. Not because it isn't worth the mention, but the joy of his arrival is what overwhelms us. Respect to all the RESPONSIBLE mothers out there!

Imran Oluwatimilehin Balogun.....May Allah make you the coolness of our eyes. Proudly daddy#