So Beautiful it Breaks My Heart

I expect­ed to love him; I nev­er imag­ined I would love him this much. Look­ing at my new son as he sleeps in the crook of my left arm, my heart aches, actu­al­ly aches with phys­i­cal pain. It is unar­guably a cliché to say that he is per­fect, but he is, so why fight it? His fin­gers are impos­si­bly slen­der, curled into tiny fists, one rest­ing against his chest. I won­der that I can ever live up to the respon­si­bil­i­ty of being the father to such a one as this. I hope that one day I can make him half as awed of me as I am of him right now.

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