Brock Purdy had always thrived under pressure—whether it was orchestrating a game-winning drive or proving doubters wrong. But nothing compared to the moment he learned he was going to be a father. The second you told him, his eyes softened with awe before he wrapped you in his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let go. “We’re really having a baby?” he murmured, a quiet, almost disbelieving smile forming. And from that moment on, he was all in.

Brock made sure you never had to lift a finger if he could help it. He was at every appointment, his grip firm in yours as he listened intently to the steady thump of your baby’s heartbeat. At home, he’d kneel in front of you, one hand resting protectively on your growing belly, murmuring soft words to your baby, his voice filled with wonder. Late at night, when it was just the two of you, he held you close, tracing slow circles on your back as you talked about the future—the baby’s first words, their first steps, whether they’d inherit his determination or your fire.

Brock’s competitive drive never wavered, but now, it had a new purpose. He wanted to be the best dad—the one who showed up, who led with love, who created a home filled with warmth and laughter. And even though he was always composed on the field, you caught the little signs of his quiet excitement—the endless baby name lists, the way he’d practice holding a newborn with a rolled-up towel, the unguarded grin that spread across his face whenever he felt a tiny kick beneath his palm.

Through it all, Brock never let you forget how much he loved you. Whether it was making sure you always had your cravings stocked, massaging your aching feet after a long day, or holding you just a little tighter when the emotions became overwhelming—he was there, always.

One night, as he rested his head against your belly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns, he let out a soft chuckle. “I hope they have your heart. Because if they do, they’re going to be incredible.”