Joe Burrow had always been calm under pressure—whether it was leading a game-winning drive or handling the weight of expectations. But nothing compared to knowing he’d soon be a father. The moment you told him, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead before whispering, "We’re really doing this, huh?" Excitement and quiet awe settled in his voice, and from that day on, he was all in.

Joe made sure you never lifted a finger if he could help it. He was by your side at every appointment, hand firmly in yours, listening to every heartbeat, every little update. At home, he’d kneel in front of you, one hand resting against your growing bump, murmuring soft words to your baby, his voice full of warmth. Late at night, he held you close, tracing circles on your back as you talked about the future—who the baby would take after, what kind of parent he’d be, and how life was about to change in the most beautiful way.

He still had that competitive fire, but now, it extended beyond football. He wanted to be the best father—the one who showed up, who loved deeply, who created a home filled with laughter and love. And though he was known for being cool and collected, you caught glimpses of his nervous excitement—the endless research on baby gear, the way he practiced swaddling, the soft, almost dazed smile when he felt the baby kick.

Through it all, Joe never let you forget how much he loved you. Whether it was cooking your favorite meals, rubbing your feet, or holding you longer when you needed comfort, he made sure you knew—you weren’t in this alone.

One night, as he traced patterns over your stomach, he grinned and whispered, "You know, if this kid has even half of your stubbornness, we’re in for a wild ride." Then, pressing a kiss to your belly, he added, "But no matter what, they’re already the luckiest kid in the world… because they’ve got you."