This love of mine

My son turned 9 months old a few days ago.
For the last 9 months, I've thought about him. Every. Hour. Of. Every. Day.
I've had many loves in my life.
But never one like this.
When his mother was carrying him, I wondered how I'd take to him.
And then I saw him in the sonogram. Sticking out his tongue, the nurse said.
And I turned away because I didn't want his mother to see me tearing up.
The day he got here, it was love at first sight.
It's weird. When I feed him or hold him, I find myself nibbling on his ear or his nose or his little toes.
He looks just like me. The same crooked smile. The same frown when he isn't happy.
The same happy disposition.
The same temper.
If you told me I couldn't have another glass of wine, couldn't run another mile, couldn't earn another dollar if I wanted to be with Noah, it wouldn't take me more than a millisecond to give all that up to be his dad.
There is almost nothing I wouldn't give him. Almost nothing.
He deserves two parents.
But me and his mother don't get along.
I won't get into the details here. She is a great mom.
She lives in Austin. I live in Fort Worth, some 200 miles away.
And our chemistry may as well be 1,000 miles away.
Noah deserves better.