and the notion that we are parents to this sweet, remarkable little girl still takes our breath away.
Just this afternoon, as our little girl stood up and grabbed her daddy’s leg in a squishy-baby-skinned-embrace,
he looked at me, his eyes round and wet,
and asked me, awestricken,”Am I really her daddy? When did I become her daddy?”
And I had to remind him of this.
And as he spouted off her birth stats from memory,
(You were born at 2:22am on April 18. 7 pounds. 12 ounces. 21 inches.)
she shook his leg,
shouting “Hi Dada! Dada! Dada! Hi Dada!”
She’s a real person now.
She is no longer a new baby
and he is no longer a new Daddy.
A new daddy, no,
but the best daddy,
most certainly, yes.
These two,
they’ve come a long way.
And when I stare at them,
standing together,
their gazes locked,
with their eyes crinkling the same way,
I think back to that day when my guy became her daddy.
I remember how she loved him instantly, before I was strong enough to hold her, or brave enough to burp her.
I remember looking at my husband, who had barely even held a baby before,
and thinking, “I have never seen a more natural father in my life. He was born to be her dad.”
And I remember struggling to catch my breath, as I said, My, how I’m lucky they’re mine.
And now, as her tiny, pink feet are strong enough to stand upon,
and she now weighs more than 7 pounds, 12 ounces,
I realize that it’s not just her body that has grown.
So has our incredible, immeasurable love for her.
So have our hearts.