You were so tiny when you were born. Not even 7 pounds. I'm a big man and that made you seem even tinier in my arms. We wrapped you in your Winnie the Pooh receiving blanket and it was like a little cocoon. When the time came to take you home, the car seat was even too big. We had to buy an optional neck roll for you to help keep your head held up.
I'd never felt anything like what I felt being your dad. I've never loved anyone in my whole life like I did that day...and every day since. Every mundane chore was a treat. Your mom never had to ask me to change your diaper or burp you. When you woke up at night, hungry, I would take you from your mom as soon as she finished nursing and hold you until you burped, and for longer than that even. You fell to sleep in my arms and I was hesitant to put you in your crib...I relished each quiet moment.
Just looking at you as you slept, feeling you near my heart, kissing your tiny forehead a million times in a night. Every kiss...every gentle touch of your tiny hands. Telling you "I Love You" a thousand times an hour. All of those were moments of tenderness I had never known with my own dad and they were serving to heal the hole it left in my heart.
We had to wait about six weeks before taking you out to meet the world. The day came on a Sunday. I took you to church while your mom rested at home. You were dressed like a princess making her debut before society. You never made a sound during the entire service. Pastor Allen came over and held you and his wife Vada did as well. Terry and Mary took their turn. It seems like only yesterday.
I was never more proud than I was that day...except for the next day. And the day after that.
Showing the world what a wonderful, precious, beautiful daughter God had blessed me with, made me feel ten feet tall. I was made for this. This is the role I treasure more than anything.
Because All I Ever Wanted Was To Be Your Dad.