When you had found out you were pregnant, Wojciech seemed distant. You worried he didn't want the baby but the dedication he devoted to your pregnant self and the nursery calmed your nerves. Between his practices and games, he would rub your swollen feet and paint the nursery. When you found out you were expecting a boy, he seemed distant again.

However, he once went right back to being his sassy self. You had no doubt that he loved your child, if he didn't he would have bailed out long before your third trimester. One morning your water broke and Wojciech skipped practice to witness the birth of your first child. He seemed more nervous than you about the whole ordeal but stayed by your side never the less.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, your son was delivered. Wojciech cut the umbilical cord but didn't have time to hold your son before the nurse whisked him away to be tested and cleaned. The two of you sat together in your hospital room, just enjoying each other's company. Taking your smaller hand in his large one, he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

The nurse returned to the room, your newborn in her arms. She handed you your son before leaving you three alone. You smiled down at your adoring son. He was absolutely precious. A brown mop of hair sat atop his small head. His hands were clenched and he whined as you placed him against your chest. "Do you want to hold him?" you asked your husband.

At the very mention of holding your son, Wojciech looked terrified. "Uh . . . it might be best if you just hold onto him for now," he sighed.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong."

"Then hold your son," you pushed. Placing your son in your husband strong arms, you watched as a smile soon broke out over Wojciech's face. For a few seconds, you thought everything was okay until your baby boy opened his small mouth and let out a high pitched cry. Wojciech's smile dropped from his face as he tried to console your child.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay," Wojciech chanted trying to quiet the newborn. Your son instead wailed even louder. You took the baby from Wojciech's arms and effectively soothed your son.

"See, you're just hungry, that's all," you soothed your son, rubbing the tuft of hair on his small head. Turning to look at your husband, you sighed when you saw he had his head in his hands. "Wojciech, he's fine. He was just a little hungry."

"He hates me," Wojciech stated.

"He doesn't hate you. He would cry no matter whose arms he was in if something bothered him. That's what baby's do," you reasoned.

"He hates me. I knew I was going to be a terrible father," Wojciech muttered. He got up and started towards the door until you grabbed his hand.

"You aren't going to be a terrible father. You're going to be the best father our son could have ever asked for," you smiled.

"I can't even have a proper conversation with my own dad! How am I going to be able to help raise a son?" Wojciech sighed.

"Just because you and your father don't have the best relationship doesn't mean you and our son won't. I know you, Wojciech. I know you love our son more than anything even though he's only been alive for a few hours. I know you are the most loving and caring husband a girl could have ever asked for. And I know you're terrified about parenthood. I am too but we'll get through this together," you said.

Wojciech sat back in his chair and looked over your shoulder at your son. You lifted your son off your chest and placed him in Wojciech's arms. Wojciech held his breath, waiting for your son to start crying again. However, the newborn remained quiet and snuggled into his father's warm chest. Wojciech smiled and kissed your head.

Your son started to grow and grow. He was a huge fan of Arsenal and you brought him to as many games as possible. He loved watching his father. One day, you came home from work to see your husband and son in the living room. Wojciech had a Styrofoam ball and was rolling it towards your son. "Block the shot, block the shot, (Y/S/N)!" Your son batted the ball away with one hand, the other hand stuck in his mouth. "And he blocks the shot! What a great save from #1, (Y/S/N) Szczesny! Wooh!" your husband cheered, lifting your son in the air, causing him to giggle.

As your son grew, so did his connection with his father. They would both go out to the pitch every day and just practice. After he retired, Wojciech became the goalkeeper coach at Arsenal. Your son became enrolled in the youth program at Arsenal and was the star goalkeeper at age twenty two. Sitting in the stands, you rubbed your hands together nervously.

The champions of the Premier League was going to be decided by this penalty kick. It was Chelsea vs. Arsenal for the title. It had come down to penalties after extra time had run out. Arsenal had just taken a penalty, embedding it in the goal. The penalty kick score was 4-3, Arsenal leading. If your son blocked this shot, he was a champion. If he didn't, there would be another set of penalties.

You saw Wojciech tell your son something before your son took his spot on the line. Sighing, your son raised his arms, waiting for the Chelsea player to take a shot. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, and you gave a silent prayer. The ref blew the whistle and the kicker started forward. Your son started hopping around. Then, the Chelsea player kicked the ball.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion. The ball headed for the bottom left corner but was stopped by your son's hand. The ball rolled to the side, away from the goal. Arsenal had won! You cheered loudly as the whole stadium erupted. Your son was piled on by his teammates. After they had all gotten off of him, your son ran over to your husband and gave him a big hug. You smiled at the father son moment. Like father like son, right?