On June 19, at 12:59 in the afternoon, a fabulous miracle came into our life. Her name is Dalia. While it might seem natural to assume I have some bias in this area, I can state as a matter of categorical fact that she is the most charming, wonderful child ever in all of the world.
Rachel tells the story of her arrival, with better words and images than I can. All I can add is that Rachel is my hero, forever. Her courage and strength — like nearly every experience of the past five days — humble and amaze me.
I did not know I would become the person I now am — who can gaze at this tiny figment of perfect, endless possibility, mesmerized, on and on.
Wrapped up in her swaddling blanket, with just her head poking out, her wisp of a body curled to one side, she is a comma, just a tiny pause for breath.
But that’s not quite right. She’s far above a simple comma — she’s an apostrophe. Never misplaced, because the right place is where she is. An apostrophe indicating possession — she to me, and me to her, for the rest of my life.