Sweet Ro, there are certain things you learn when climbing mountains with only what you carry on your back. Primarily, you learn that humans need very little to be fully and blissfully content. Nature, delicious food, a warm and cozy place to lay your head, and good company. The only wealth that matters.
However, there are a few things I wanted you to have. One, a vibrant community with children for you to grow up with, full of aunties and uncles you can go to for the guidance and support that parents can't give you. Two, a beautiful, pristine place to absorb all your foundational memories. A land that you would not only be From, but Of. In the knick of time, or perhaps right on time, we were led to that place, and those people. They adorned us in ceremony and ritual to welcome us into parenthood. They took us in, gathered around us, and made vows to us. Vows to you.
And perhaps most importantly (to me), I needed you to have a good papa. A man who would provide for you, aid your growth, protect your solitude, and give you the sorts of things good papas give. To love you, fully and unconditionally. When I met your papa, in all his gentleness and solidity, I intuitively knew what kind of father he would be. The kind of father figure whose importance you only recognize through the pain of its absence.
One week into our journey as parents, I have never been more in love with him. His sweetness, his patience, his passion. My gratitude for him fills my eyes with wells of the deepest emotions one can feel. Awe, praise... and grief. You've arrived on the scene and given us purpose and direction to live with the kind of integrity the world needs in these troubled times. So many gifts. In the human lifespan, is there ever a sweeter moment?