This semester has been so ridiculously busy that it’s difficult at times to find the time for extras such as blogging—or phone conversations, or email, or facebook, or movies, or anything else, for that matter. (I really do love my life—I just wish days were longer and that sleeping and eating were unnecessary).

I had the opportunity to spend my weekend in the labor and delivery unit at the hospital, and I have to say that…no matter how many times you see it? The miracle of birth is still…miraculous. Messy, but miraculous. It gives me chills every time.

Today was the first time I’d been able to stand-by in the operating room and witness a Caesarean. The patient was the sweetest little thing ever—she and her husband were both so incredibly gracious and understanding throughout the whole process.

Surgical procedures are fascinating to watch (if you’re not one of those people who have an inconvenient fainting tendency at the sight of blood). Honestly, though, my favorite part of every birth experience is that magical moment when the parents get to meet their new little one for the first time.

In the operating room, it’s a little different because of all the surgery-related chaos that surrounds the birthing experience, but I remember looking up from the table at one point, and glancing over, and seeing that the dad had wandered over to the warming table where his new baby girl was lying.

The neonatal team had suctioned her and rubbed her down, and she was just minding her own business over there while everybody else was preoccupied with repairing the damage done to her mom…

She was a beautiful baby. Stunning, for a newborn. And as I watched her dad standing there, gazing down at her like she was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen, I felt a lump forming in my throat.

There’s nothing quite like the look that a new dad gives to his first baby girl. It’s a look that carries all of the fatherly pride with which he looks at his first son, but it’s mingled with a different kind of protective tenderness and awe—as if he understands, even as he sees her that first time, that he’s always going to need to protect her in different ways than he does his sons.

The father today stood there for a long moment, just looking at her…drinking her in. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and he kept having to look away to keep from crying. You could see the emotions chasing each other across his face…a sense of wonder, and fatherly pride…his yearning to touch her, to cradle her, to shield her from everything that will ever hurt her for as long as he possibly can…his compassion…his desire to be her knight, her guardian, her protector, her hero, and her mentor…his incredible love for her, in her state of helpless dependency.

I had to look away myself to keep from crying. There are some things which are so incredibly beautiful that it’s almost painful to witness…in a good way.

Thank you, Dad, for being my knight, my guardian, my protector, my hero, and my mentor. I love you.