As it turns out, the woman I married is a wonderful mother. She is a natural nurturer and her bond with our son is unyielding and beautiful. It is special thing, a mother’s love, and I am lucky enough to witness it every day.
I see the love at bath time when he looks up at her with adoring eyes. I see it at night when she feeds him. I hear her soft voice soothing him in the darkness when he is cranky and fussy. It is there in the mornings when she kisses his plump cheeks and his face beams with that wonderful smile.
Our little guy has grown so much already, nourished by the milk she creates in her body. It's amazing to me that she can produce a substance that fuels his existence, but then again, her body created him. Sure, I had a little something to do with it, but she did the heavy lifting.
During the pregnancy I worried that maybe I wasn’t cut out for fatherhood, that I wasn't parent material. But those feelings subsided the moment I laid eyes on my son and completely washed away as my wife took him in her arms. With her I know that he's going to be fine.
I have my moments with him and I know that my time will come. But for now I’m content to watch and adore the two of them, thankful just to be a part of this whole thing.
Happy Mother’s Day.