It's been four years to the day that I put on a white dress and headed down an aisle towards you, my great love.
And as we said I do, I honestly believed there was no way I could ever love you more.
But now we have Scarlette.
The first time you laid eyes on her, I realized I was wrong. I thought I could never love you more, until I saw you love our daughter.
I can not look at one of you without seeing the other.
She could not be blessed with a better father.
She is amazing because she is yours.
On the worst day of my life I wept to you that we might lose her. And you held me close, as close as you can hold someone in a hospital bed, and whispered to me that whatever happened, you were there. I clung to that. As they administered more drugs, as the contractions increased, as they drew a line across my belly with a scalpel, I clung to that. To you.
And every day since, every tough day that she fights to be with us, I cling to you still. And you meet us with grace and gentleness and love.
And she could not be blessed with a better father.
I love you.
