You look at her eyes and know the answer. No further explanations are needed.

You are madly in love with her.

And when she wants something you know you’ll pluck the moon for her if needed, just to make her smile.

And when she cries, and that happens a lot, it breaks your heart. And even when you give her some tough love, you can pretend to be rigid, surprising yourself with that don’t-mess-with-me face you can pull at will, but your inner voice tells you “You’ve gotta be kidding!” because you can’t possibly be mad at her.

And yes, she can really challenge you, and test your patience, and cross the line.

But no, you can’t truly be mad at her, because you love her too much.

You never felt this way before, this intensity of loving, like floodgates that are opened only once you become a parent.

This love story began the first time I saw her, wrapped in a towel, her eyes shut, her tiny head adorned with quite a bit of straight, pitch-black hair, her hands and feet still purple, soon to be oxygenated.

I accompanied the midwife to the babies room, watched her being washed and dressed up, took many photos of her, and couldn’t stop marvelling at that miraculous little creature I could now call my own…

(Photo by pixabay @ Pexels)