Happy Mothers Day Bliss I’ve watched you give every part of yourself to our daughter. Your body, your time, your thoughts, your heart. You carry her in everything you do. I see it in the soft rustle of pages as you lay out books that stretch her mind, in the rhythm of your voice as you read aloud, pausing just long enough for her to echo the sounds. I see it even when you’re not with her. In the way she stares wide-eyed and unblinking at photographs from the Hubble telescope. She shares her mother‘s love of the stars. You research every bottle, every onesie, every sleep sack making sure it feels just right against her skin. You test the temperature of her meals against your wrist, stir with care, taste for balance—asking questions like “Will this sit gently in her belly? Is it too hot? Too cold?” Questions that don’t always come instinctively to a new father’s mind. I see your love in the stillness of the night, when the house is quiet and you’re nursing her by the dim glow of light, shoulders aching, eyes heavy. When you wake up in the middle of the night and ask me if Galileo is OK and only fall back asleep, once I assure you, she is. I see it when you zip the diaper bag, packed with things I never would’ve thought to include. When you double-check her car seat straps after I buckle her in, running your fingers over each shoulder, just to be sure. You are the reason she smiles when the sun comes up. The reason she reaches out to touch the world—curious, brave, kind. She has your warmth, your fierce and tenacious spirit, your strength. And she has it because you’ve given her every drop of yourself, even on the days when you had nothing left. You’ve carried the weight of this first year with grace, though I know how heavy it has been. And still, you show up. Every single day. She may never understand the depth of what you’ve done for her. But I will. And I’ll never stop being in awe. You are her whole world. And you’ve given me mine. Thank you for the greatest gift I could ever ask for Happy Mother’s Day my love