An introduction is in order… in fact, it’s long overdue
Papa Fob will work, as will any bassinet coo
For so long, this my prayer, “God, let a little one sprout”
With pop’s medical history, your odds? … always in doubt

But the call finally came, JannyBoo and I on the bed
Your dad broke the news, and many tears were shed
Real tears, little one, my face in my palms
Overwhelmed with emotion, like the writers of the Psalms

We asked, “How far along?” … so much info to glean
“Just 8 weeks,” your mom said, “the size of a kidney bean”
Just a bean? I thought, but the promise of something more
At least no longer a poppyseed, like you were in Week 4

At Week 9, grape status, eyes fully formed, though shut
About an inch and an ounce, enough for Papa Fob to strut
Week 10, organs formed, you’re now officially a fetus
They say you’re a kumquat, but at least you’re not a Cletus

Week 11, level up, our grand is getting big
Rocking fingers and toes now, pay no mind that you’re just a fig
Week 12, vitals finished, is this lime more than a dream?
Your mom’s feeling nauseous, seems she’s taking one for the team

Just a peapod at Week 13, but there’s hope, no room for gloom
Your friend, the God of Heaven, He said, “I knew you in the womb”
A lemon at Week 14, but Lemon Laws don’t apply
You can squint, frown, and pee, and suck your thumb if you really try

Week 15, just an apple, but your skeleton’s now in view
You’re curling toes and kicking, in utero aerobics… who knew?
Week 16 brings avocado status, and I let this thought slip
If we squeezed Mom’s belly now, would she pass guacamole dip?

Week 17, now a turnip, 5+ inches from crown to rump
Your momma? Not fat, but the lady is showing a bump
Have I mentioned my plans? Lots of hopes, lots of wishin’
Long hikes and long talks, playing catch, going fishin’

At Week 18, the big news, the scans show a stem
Wake your neighbors, phone your friends, we’re having a him!
Bradford Genry, to be precise, yes, it seems you’ve got a name
And the Johnson name lives on, an announcement to proclaim!

Genry from your mom’s side, a reason to be glad
Bradford, from me, your Uncle Jas, and your great granddad
You’ve got unique prints now, on each fingertip and toe
You’re up to a bell pepper, our little man continues to grow!

Week 19, level up, you’re now an heirloom tomato,
Better hide you from Papa Raymond, he gorges maters, oh no!
A banana at Week 20, the anticipation never ending
You’re about 10 ounces now, with testicles descending

Week 21 arrived, today’s ultrasound made us glad
Though just a carrot in length, you look like great-grandpa Brad!
Your arms and legs in proportion, they say you can really move
You get that from your parents, their intern dance moves full of groove

Week 22, spaghetti squash, and notable traits to espouse
Distinct lips, unmistakable eyes, and Lil Bradford has some brows!
A large mango, Week 23, and we’re grateful for the last check
The ultrasound shows you’re healthy, no signs of dad’s giraffe neck!

Week 24, an ear of corn, that’s just so sweet… aw shucks
1.5 pounds and over a foot, we must have ordered the deluxe
Premature, perhaps, I know you’re still a tad bit frail
But when you’re older, say middle school, they’ll be no pooping on the trail!

Anticipating a shower, JannyBoo buys stuff left and right
Enough “cute clothes” I said, let’s get our grand a kite!
Or maybe a bike or a puppy? Let’s be creative, I said
I’d have given you our beagle, but I’m afraid that Mandy’s dead

Week 25, something special, in Nashville we got to meet
I spoke to lil rutabaga through a belly button, a portal by Mom’s knees
I asked how you were doing, and you heard me, I was sure
But then I heard a rumbling… was it gas, or maybe a snore?

Week 26, just a scallion, and a family text debate
Should we call you Brad or Bradford, or maybe Ford or Fjord would rate?
A Week 27 advance, you’re now a head of cauliflower,
I pray for you and Mom daily, because in prayer there’s lots of power

Your eyes are now open, Bradford, there’s so much for you to view!
Sunsets and waterfalls, and maybe a National Park or two
You’ll be raised in a Christian home, of that I am quite sure
But you’ll need to make faith your own, one day, so that your future is secure

That brings us to today, little man, can’t wait to hold you in my palms
Still overwhelmed with emotion, like the writers of the Psalms
I already love you, Bradford, one day I’ll bounce you on my knee
Just Week 28, but listen up… you’re more than an eggplant to me!