There is nothing more beautiful to me than you, my wife, with our child. Bear feeding, with her little hands fusting around, that uppermost hand working little circles on your skin, fingers opening and closing, you holding her with infinite patience as you do day in, day out.
The look on a Bear's face when she's on your shoulder, relaxing, waiting for a burp to come, after being fed. A look that says I feel loved, completely and utterly.
The patient care with which you wash our Bear, carefully, thoroughly. Most nights alone, me still peering out of a Connex window with the Nano on shuffle.
Peering in when a Bear's been inconsolable, crying her lungs out, and seeing you patiently bent over the cot with your head down, gently patting a Bear with one hand and holding her on her side while letting out a slow shusss, the uncomfortable and highly particular method that works. Works with patience and love and a mum with a bottomless reserve of strength.
Oh I still admire the sheer determination that drove you from waters breaking to holding our little Bear just 5 hours later. You're tougher than nails. Sometimes you scare me. I'm the one who carps on about episodes of androgens but I know if anything ever threatened our Bear you'd tear them apart with sheer force of will.
Thank you. From Bear and I. We love you more than we can ever show.
Every day I'm glad, no, more than glad, fucking ecstatic, that I have started a family with you. Thank you so much for our beautiful child.
Happy Mother's Day.
The education of Pamela - Advocates of gradual political change would do well to study the glorious reign of Bella the Fox Terrier over the Train family affections in the later year...
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