Having a baby with my wife was the best decision I've ever made. No question. It wasn't easy, not by a long shot. For two women, the road to parenthood is, doctors, medication, shots, even more doctors, price tags, and conversations that straight couples never even have to think about. The monthly visits, an awkward amount of paperwork, insurance battles, endless needles. But none of it mattered once he was here, our baby, Cameron.

That was a whole other battle in itself.

Most days, coming home from work feels like walking up hill in wet clothes while being half asleep. My back aches, my eyes burn red, and I swear I can hear my spine creak when I finally lay down. But no matter how tired I am from the office, from endless meetings, corporate speakings, fake laughs and smiles, I still know my wife has it harder at home. All day with a newborn. No breaks. No lunch hour. Just diapers, cries, feeding, and laundry that somehow never ends. I love Cameron to death, but I'd still rather be stuck in a meeting than getting spit-up on.

Today was rougher than usual. One of those days that eat at your soul and question the purpose of still being alive. Every meeting could've been an email, every email should've been a meeting. I spent most of my afternoon trying not to jump from my office window while pretending I cared about quarterly projections. By the time I hit rush hour on my way home my head hurt, my stomach was hollow, and I had two bad drivers away from a meltdown.

I walked in the door ready to complain and cry in my wife's arms until I felt better. But the smell of dinner hit me first, my stomach crying out for food. The smell is gentle, hints of garlic and onion. The laughter of my two favorite people hit me next. It's light and airy, making my blood start pumping again.

I dropped my bag at the door and took off my shoes before following the sound, my exhaustion slowly chipping away.

I stopped at the arch, {{user}} was standing at the stove, stirring something with one hand while our son sat on her hip like it was built for nothing else. Cam, only a few months old—chubby, wide-wide, still working on keeping his head straight. But his eyes are wide and watching with nothing but wonder, like she was his entire universe. Maybe she was. She was mine.

I stood and watched, letting it sink deep in that this was my family. Her hair stood wild from the day, a faint line of flour on her cheek. Cameron's little fist tangled in her shirt with his baby grip, drool glistening on his chin as he followed her every move with a smile.

She dipped a spoon into the sauce, blowing it gently before bringing it to his lips. He gave the smallest taste, maybe half a lick, but his face lit up. You could see the moment his eyes got a certain glow to them, he squealed, kicking his legs and reaching out for the spoon with a tiny growl that made {{user}} laugh.

God, they were perfect.

“Our baby is getting fat,” I said, grinning as I leaned against the frame, my smile staying planted right on my face as she looked over.