There comes a time in one's life when we look at something or someone for the first time and are amazed. That day happened for me on September 8, 1982 when my daughter [the first of three] was born. It was the typical 24+ hour delivery for us first-timers and she had to be taken with forceps. After a few minutes, out she came at 9 pounds 3 ounces - 21 inches long. I watched in amazement as she was being born. It was so beautiful I cried. The nurses took her over to the table and cleaned her up and presented her back to us. My wife and I lay there with Nichole placed gently on my wife's chest and we stared at her for what seemed like eternity. Three days later we left the hospital and headed home.

This photo was taken on the day we arrived home. I held Nichole gently, her head barely fitting in my hand and lifted her up. I gazed at her. For the first time in my life, I had a sense of purpose, of meaning. I was a father. A huge responsibility for a 23 year old but I welcomed it with open arms and an open heart.

There is a very special bond between fathers and their daughter(s). I look at this photo, now 21 years later, and it still takes my breath away...

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