The Circle of Love

As Nick’s first birthday approaches, I’m increasingly reminded of how blessed I am to be a father. I was reading Aspen’s note in her Mother’s Day card, confessing that “I didn’t realize how much you loved me until I became a mom”. I’ve been repeatedly playing that profound line in my head for the last few days, confident that no greater compliment could be made to one’s parent.

Being a dad has broken me as a once selfish and independent spirit. I used to snicker to myself seeing Aspen getting all choked up over some couple having a baby on the Discovery Channel; now I am sharing the Kleenex, reliving Nick’s first cry (‘un-Guyyyyyyyyy, un-Guyyyyyyyy’) like it was yesterday. I can finally appreciate the connection between us and these unknown parents in their time of bliss.

My transformation to fatherhood was much more natural than I had expected, and I attribute this to age (40) and maturity (for the most part), as if the years of independence were preparing me for something greater than I could comprehend. The bond between Nick and I was instant, like two childhood friends reuniting for good. It grew into something even greater, and I’m not sure if my love for this little guy will ever be matched with words.

Sometimes the simple thought of him brings grateful tears to my eyes, and there are nights in the dim light of his room as he’s cradled in my arms, when the joy of having a child becomes almost overwhelming. It is during these moments I pray that no harm ever comes to him, or that I'll always be able to protect him. Now, I know that being an omnipresent father is unrealistic, because he will undoubtedly inherit the scrapes and bruises of his dad. But in those times when he stumbles, I will be there to apply the band-aids.