Dear Diary,
After celebrating our wedding, Phil and I decided against going on a honeymoon. Neither of us were particularly big on the idea of jetting off on an expensive holiday purely to celebrate the fact that we'd officially got married - to us, it seemed pointless. Instead, we stayed in the wedding venue's hotel the night of the wedding, and then travelled home the following afternoon. Our flat had never felt more like home in our lives; it was ours, and we were eachother's. Once the photographer had edited and finalised the best of the pictures from the day, we got the majority of them blown up into large photo prints and canvases, covering the walls of our home with them. Whenever I walked downstairs, I was greeted by a photo of Phil and I holding hands, showing off our shiny new wedding rings. As I sat in the living room to watch the television, a canvas displaying a picture of all of our guests and Phil and I gathered together, all smiling up at the camera. Every time I looked at the pictures, it was almost like a stranger was staring back at me. For so long, I'd got so used to seeing myself in the mirror; a pair of glazed, grey eyes staring back at me almost like they were lifeless. For so long, I'd convinced myself that I would never amount to anything and that I wouldn't ever be happy. How wrong I was.
As I'm writing this, I can hear Phil in the bathroom, giving Dillon a bath before we put him to bed. The other week, we adopted a fourteen-week-old baby boy, who'd been put up for adoption by a single teenage mother who didn't feel capable of looking after him and giving him the life he deserved. We willingly took him on. His eyes remind me of Phil's - bright blue and beautiful. Phil reckons a lot of his facial features look like mine - apparently we have the same nose and jawline; I can't work out if Dillon has a proper jawline yet, though. He's mostly chubby - obviously because he's a baby, it's not me size-shaming our own child. Regardless, I think he's beautiful. Even when I was younger, I'd always wanted children and I'd always known I'd adopt a child when the time was right. And right now, the timing couldn't be anymore perfect. As I write this, I'm struggling to fathom how I got quite so lucky. For someone who, for so long, didn't think they'd amount to anything or ever be happy again, I couldn't be happier with how my life has turned out. I have a beautiful partner who makes me feel more special than anyone else ever has, and who reminds me they love me every single day. I have a house that belongs to Phil and I, and it's the home where we are raising our first child together. Things couldn't be more perfect and I wouldn't change a single thing.
I haven't heard from my parents in a year. I even invited them to the wedding but I didn't get a response, and I can't say I was surprised when they didn't turn up on the day. In fact, I was almost relieved. They'd have only made the day worse by constantly voicing their disapproval, and I wouldn't have felt comfortable in their presence. I guess things worked out for the best, even if it did mean having to lose all association and contact with my family. Oh well, I'm happy enough without them.
Phil's calling me; I think Dillon's finished in the bath and it's time to put him to bed. No doubt he's currently covered in talc powder and probably looks like he's had a bath himself, but he'll still look beautiful. Phil, I mean - I'm not hitting on my own child, that's wrong. Ew, I disgust myself. I will never understand how I got so lucky, but this is something I will never ever take for granted. I know that if I died tomorrow, I'd die happy. Right now I'm experiencing a feeling that I never want to go away; a euphoria I've never felt before and it feels amazing. I feel happy; I feel content; and I feel loved. Nothing could compare to this.
Signing out,
Dan :)
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Dear Diary: Out Now.
