The day a child was born.

A sense of foreboding, apprehension, and the question, “What happens to the two of us?”

As another wedding anniversary rolls around the corner, this year was the time we both had to face reality for the first time in our lives.

We were two kids born with a silver spoon; things were never really difficult per se for us both personally and professionally; and then suddenly we were confronted with this reality.

We were two kids who could barely take of ourselves and learn to take care of each other. Now we are confronted with a reality of another human being, for whom we will be solely responsible.

It’s jarring, isn’t it? To become a teacher of children you need credentials; to become a healer of humans you need even more credentials, but you actually need none to become a parent.

But more than the parenthood, at that point we were focused on the two of us. There was something selfish between the two of us. We didn’t want to share. We didn’t want to share each other’s time. We didn’t want to share each other’s energy with anyone else.

But then this kid is our creation, isn’t she? Isn’t she a part of us in some way?

They say you know it’s the best thing in life when you feel excited whilst at the same time having a vomiting sensation.

In this case, both of us had everything. There was hope for tomorrow. There was gratitude for the past.

But most importantly, we had each other in the present.