and then, three years down the road, you have a son.

two daughters, two beautiful little girls, they came first, and you love them more than you ever imagined you could.

the oldest one, she's six, and has just developed a love for softball. you take her into the front yard and play catch with her.

you've even set up a tee for her to hit into the side of house.

your wife laughs at you when you brag about your daughter's hitting form.

but now you have a son.

and he is so small, smaller than either of your girls ever were. and at night, he cries. you let your wife sleep not because you want her to rest, but because you're greedy and you want that time with him.

you pick him from the crib and carry him into the den. you sit on the leather couch your wife insisted on buying.

and you hold him, there, in the dim light. his hands wave out and grasp your fingers, his mouth yawns and slaps shut wetly.

when you and your wife first brought him home your second daughter, three, held your belt loop and pulled you down.

you squatted there, on your knees, as she looked at him.

she patted his stomach, lightly, and said, "home."

then she grinned at you and ran to his room.

and now you sit with him, your son, on the couch.

and he falls back asleep.

and you would stay there, all night, with his little warmth against your chest, his heart beating so strongly and fiercely and, you imagine this, so proudly, just because he has that glint in his eyes already, that stubborn will, his heart thumping through to your ribs.

you would stay there, except for your wife who has risen to rest at the doorway of the den.

who stands there, watching, and whispers, after time, for you to come back to bed.

and you thought, years before this, that if you could just survive to seeing your family complete, the way it is complete now, with your children asleep and your wife looking at you so deeply, that you would be done, that you had reached the best part of your life. but now, here, you think you just want to live until you see your kids with kids of their own.