Thirteen years ago today I held my baby for the first time. I rocked her to sleep and held her late into the night. She was a C-Section baby so Carol was drugged up and fast asleep. Marina was asleep and the hospital was quiet. I just sat and held her, talking to her about all the important things in life, singing hymns to her and praying for the wisdom to be a good dad to her. The weight of that tiny baby in my arms was almost nothing but the weight of responsibility I felt was crushing. It was outweighed only by the amount of love I felt for her that day.
I remember thinking that day of all the landmarks and milestones that lay ahead. And I remember anticipating "someday this sweet, tiny little baby is going to be a big teenager." It seemed so unreal that day. So "far away". One of those things that you know is inevitable but way off on the horizon somewhere. Intangible. But, like a flash, here it is. Thirteen years gone by and my tiny baby cruised through toddler years, little girl years, "I'm-a-big-girl-now" years, elementary years and now we've stepped over the threshold of "teenager years." And I've loved and cherished every one of them.
As she lay in my arms thirteen years ago, I sat staring at her for hours. Soaking it in. Trying to remember exactly what she was like. Urging myself to remember just how much I loved her. And to a degree I can remember what she was like: I can conjur up the feeling of her head cradled against my arm, I can remember the powdery sweetness of her breath, I can remember the smooth softness of her skin as I gently brushed the back of my hand against her cheek. But I can't remember how much I loved her... because I continue to love her more and more every day.
There is no love like a father's love.Happy Birthday, my sweet Marina!
