After we had been married for a couple of years, we decided to start trying for kids. But we weren’t able to conceive. Months, then years went by, and we still had no children to call our own. We visited doctors, and my wife was treated for ovarian cysts, but when she finally did conceive, it ended in a miscarriage early on.
We finally decided we would adopt, and went through a long, arduous process of being approved by the adoption organization. Knowing there were some little-unwanted girls from China, that’s where we decided we would get our precious daughter from. As we neared the end of the process, tragedy struck again. We were denied, the reason being that we still had a chance at having our kids.
The devastation didn’t last long, though. Soon, we found out my wife was pregnant again. We held our breaths, but before long, we realized the truth. We were going to have a baby. Our families, who knew of our struggle to conceive, rejoiced with us and those nine months went by so fast, though maybe not for my wife, who went through her third trimester during the hottest summer on record.
When the time came, and we went to the hospital, I was both excited and nervous. Excited because our baby was almost here and excited to know if we’d be having a boy or a girl. But nervous because I wasn’t sure if I was cut out to be a dad and nervous because sometimes, things can go wrong during delivery.
After nearly 40 hours of labor, the doctor decided to do a C-section. Our precious little one was in distress, and things just weren’t moving fast enough on their own. As they prepped my wife for surgery, they asked her about the baby’s name. We, of course, had two names picked out, and so my wife gave them both to the hospital staff, one if it was a boy, and the other if it was a girl.
I waited anxiously by my wife’s side as they worked beyond the curtain. The seconds stretched into hours, but finally, the moment came. The doctor and nurses excitedly greeted our baby as they brought her into the world, calling her by name. They brought her to my wife and I for only a moment before taking her away to make sure she was ok.
When I finally got to hold her, I was blown away. She was perfect and beautiful, and she was all mine. All the years of frustration melted away at that moment, and none of it mattered anymore. As she closed her tiny blue eyes and fell asleep in my arms, I couldn’t help but be in awe of how this precious life had been entrusted to me.
Her mother had carried her for nine months, and now it was finally my turn to hold her. At the time, I had no way of knowing that her life would take her thousands of miles from me or that one day, she would be expecting a baby girl of her own. I only knew that our prayers had been answered and that she was now mine to hold and to care for.
The responsibility of having a daughter weighed heavily on me at that moment. I would be the one that would teach her what a man is. It would be me that she looked to for guidance. It would be me that she would need to provide everything for her. Right now it would be diapers and tiny clothes; later it would be a car and college.
And so I cried. I’m not ashamed of the tears that trickled down my cheeks at that moment because any man would do the same while feeling overwhelmed by the number of emotions that surged through me at that moment. Why did I cry when I had a baby girl? Because it was the most significant blessing I had ever received in my life and I felt incredibly honored.
About the Author: Chad Stevenson is an entrepreneur, husband and a father of three beautiful daughters. Time to time, Chad takes on digital platforms to write about his feelings and thoughts towards everything he loves and is surrounded by in life. Chad, currently living in Orlando, Florida, loves outdoor activities with his family and has almost made 7 trips to Disney in the past 10 months.
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