I think back to the day I married her.
It was one of the best days of my life.
I remember standing next to Ian and Corbin at the end of the aisle. We were waiting for her to walk through the doors when Corbin leaned over and whispered something to me.
He said, “You’re the only one who could have ever met my standards for her, Miles. I’m happy it’s you.”
I was happy it was me, too.
That was more than two years ago, and every day since then, I’ve somehow fallen in love with her a little bit more.
Or flew, rather.
I didn’t cry the day I married her, though.
Her tears were
falling
falling
falling
that day,
but mine weren’t.
I was convinced they never would.
Not in the way I wished they could.
It was eight months ago when we found out we were having a baby.
We weren’t trying to have a baby, but we also weren’t not trying.
“If it happens it happens,” Tate said.
It happened.
When we found out, we were both excited.
She cried.
Her tears were
falling
falling
falling,
but mine weren’t.
As excited as I was, I was also scared.
I was scared of the fear that comes along with loving someone that much.
Scared of everything bad that could happen.
I was scared that my memories would take away from the day I became a father again.
Well, it just happened.
And I’m still scared.
Terrified.
“It’s a girl,” the doctor says.
A girl.
We just had a baby girl.
I just became a father again.
Tate just became a mother.
Feel something, Miles.
Tate looks up at me.
I know she can see the fear in my eyes. I also know how much pain she’s in right now, but she still somehow manages a smile.
“Sam,” she whispers, saying her name out loud for the first time. Tate insisted we name her Sam in honor of Cap’s real name, Samuel.
I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
The nurse walks over to Tate and lays Sam in her arms.
Tate begins to cry.
My eyes are still dry.
I’m still too scared to look away from Tate and down at our daughter.
I’m not afraid of what I’ll feel when I look at her.
I’m afraid of what I won’t feel.
I’m terrified my past experiences have ruined any ability I have to feel what every father should feel in this moment.
“Come here,” Tate says, wanting me closer.
I sit down next to them on the bed.
She hands Sam to me, and my hands are shaking, but I take her anyway.
I close my eyes and release a slow breath before finding the courage to open them again.
I feel Tate’s hand fall gently to my arm.
“She’s beautiful, Miles,” she whispers. “Look at her.”
I open my eyes and inhale sharply when I see her.
She looks just like he did, except that she has Tate’s brown hair.
Her eyes are blue.
She has my eyes.
I
feel
it.
It’s all there.
Everything I felt the first time I held him in my arms is every single thing I’m feeling now as I look down at her.
Believing that I lacked the ability to love someone in this capacity again was the only fear I had left to conquer.
One look at Sam, and she just helped me conquer that fear.
She’s already my hero, and she’s only two minutes old.
“She’s so beautiful, Tate,” I whisper. “So beautiful.”
My voice cracks.
My face is covered in tears.
Falling
Falling
Falling.
For the first time since the moment I held Clayton in my arms, I’m crying tears of joy.
Rachel was right. The pain will always be there.
So will the fear.
But the pain and fear are no longer my life. They’re only moments.
Moments that are constantly overshadowed with every minute I spend with Tate.
And now with every minute I spend with Sam.
Me and Tate and Sam.
My family.
I kiss her on the forehead, and then I lean over and kiss Tate for giving me something this beautiful again.
Tate lays her head on my arm, and we both watch her.
Our daughter.
I love you so much, Sam.
I’m looking down at the perfection we created when it hits me.
It’s all worth it.
It’s the beautiful moments like these that make up for the ugly love.
