Boy, that headline sounds like the first line in a suicide note. No, no, Harrison, my son, this is not a suicide note. It’s an apology letter. Or an explanation. Maybe a clarification. I’m not sure what your mother has told you, or what you’ve already heard or read, but I feel it is imperative that you have some background, context really, on what you may have already heard or read, or undoubtedly will.It's only right that a son knows who his father is — the kind of man his father is.

“I broke him. I broke Eddie. His eye is loose in his head. He’ll never be able to take a cute photo again. He’s a freak! He’s broken! He’s probably blind. This is why… Do you see? This is why I can’t be a father. I’m going to break my kids and I… I can’t handle that. I can’t handle this. OH GOD! Eddie! I’m so sorry! Katie! I’m so sorry! I’m SO SORRY!”

So, here we are. Waiting. Unsure of what to do. We keep doing all the things that can start and speed up labor like walking and massaging and having sex with spicy food. At this point, our lives are completely out of our hands and at the whims of the ungrateful terrorist holding my wife’s body and my need for a second scotch hostage.