Fashionably Late 👣🍼

We waited. And waited. And then we waited some more.

The due date came and went, and our little girl, in true diva fashion, decided she wasn’t quite ready to grace us with her presence. Like a queen making a grand entrance, she let the anticipation build, keeping us all on edge. I had secretly hoped for a St. Patrick’s Day baby—visions of green onesies, lucky charms (the real kind and the cereal), and an endless excuse to celebrate her birthday with a pint of Guinness in hand. But she had other plans. Sharing a birthday with leprechauns? Not a chance. She was determined to have a day all to herself.

I suppose I should have known. Stubbornness is a family trait, after all. My daughter—this tiny force of nature—was already making it clear that she would arrive when she was good and ready, not a moment sooner.

And when she finally did? Oh, what an Oh so grand debut it was.

After 12 long hours of labor, my wife—this incredible, strong, awe-inspiring woman—brought our daughter into the world. I watched in absolute amazement as she fought through every contraction, every wave of exhaustion, never once wavering. If I ever needed proof of her strength, this was it. She handled it all with a grace and determination that left me in awe.

Then, finally, the world stood still for just a moment as our daughter took her first breath, her first cry filling the room like music composed just for us. Ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes, a head full of hair and eyes that held the universe in them.

They say good things come to those who wait. And after more than 40 weeks of eager anticipation, she proved that the best things take just a little longer.

So no, I didn’t get my St. Paddy’s baby. But I got something infinitely better—a daughter who already knows the importance of making an entrance, and a wife who showed me, once again, just how incredible she is.

Fashionably late. Absolutely perfect. And already running the show.