On Hearing My Child For the First Time

I heard you yesterday. For the first time. Your sound was quick and healthy and alive. One hundred and seventy beats a minute.

Ba-bump, Ba-bump, Ba-Bump

It really was amazing to sit and listen to you. Your mother smiled and squeezed my hand. Light flashed from her eyes. She loves you already. So do I.

It takes a lot of hope to bring a child into today's world. The world is dark. Even darker than where you are right now. It takes a lot of hope, but darkness is not dark to your Daddy.

Here are some of my hopes:
That you will know you are a gift
That you will like to read
That the same tingles I get when walking into a sanctuary will find their way to your spine also
That you will change the world (I know, perhaps that's a little too much)
That you will forgive me
That you will get the whole potty training thing really early
That we will be friends
That you will have your mother's smile, and that light will flash from your eyes also
That I will never quit listening to you