There's not much left to say, after all these years I've said it all countless times. You know my world changed the morning I woke up to the proof of you under my skin, the afternoon I heard your heartbeat echo like a song from heaven itself, the night I felt your tiny dancing ripple across my abdomen.
You know you saved my life. You probably even know the three years you weren't a mere five minutes down the road from me were by far the hardest of my life. The only thing worse than the years I spent worrying about my safety were the ones I spent worrying about yours. Worrying if you were cold or hungry or needing me.
But that was then and this is now and there really isn't much I haven't told you, except maybe this: those ten minutes we spent laughing our way through selfies filled me up just as much as holding you the first time did.
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