There are at least a million times in every day that I stare at my child and wonder how in the world something — someone — so perfect and amazing came from me. I wonder because Jerry and I… we are flawed; we are imperfect. And yet…
Caleb is nothing if not perfect. I know that to the world he may not be as perfect, as beautiful, as magnificent as he is to me, but still… I am amazed. His pouty lips, his gummy smiles, his silly laughs… there is nothing I would change.
You worry nonstop before your child is born. You hope and you pray that nothing will be wrong. You even get ultrasounds and tests done. Then they hand him to you, and all your fears disappear in an instant. Even though he is slimy, and screaming, and cone-headed… he is beautiful. He is perfect.
I swear, this child gets more beautiful by the day. He is the best thing I’ve done and my greatest accomplishment. I never thought I’d be more proud as I was the moment I crossed the finish line in my first half-marathon… until I held him in my arms and nothing could compare.
How in the world is he mine?