364 days ago, someone was sweating profusely, gripping the hand of their spouse, and breathing raggedly. Whoo-whoo-whoooo. That person was me; my wife was calm and sedate, thanks to the epidural and local anesthetics. Do you think the doctors would give me some of that stuff? No. Not even when they heard that I was going to be a father again.
They say that women go through unbelievable pain in childbirth. I'm not contesting that- so ladies, move the cursor away from the "unsubscribe" button- but men go through a kind of pain of their own. Ours is endured mostly in silence: rubbing the sleep from our eyes to get the nursing pillow at 2:13am, and again 42 minutes later, changing diapers containing something we know that baby didn't eat, and holding our wives when their hormones swing into "furious".
It's difficult to measure the lifespan of one wonder in mere minutes, hours, days, months totaling one year. The journey from newborn bundle in swaddling wraps, to the stage I can only describe as bobble-head, to grabsy-handsy, to a semi-upright homo-sapien with the beginnings of language. "Hiiiiiiiiiiiii." Yes, a pleasant hello to you, too.
I forgot the one pain that fathers feel most acutely - the enormous burst of pride and awe in their daughter, which never dissipates or abates. I love you, Elsa, my little girl.
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