The sun filtered through the hospital curtains, soft and warm, as if it, too, wanted to witness this small miracle of life.
I sat in the rocking chair, gently swaying Celestine in my arms.
Her tiny fingers curled around mine, her eyes blinking sleepily but alert, already full of curiosity about the world.
Calix knelt beside me, brushing a gentle hand over her back, his lips occasionally pressing soft kisses to her head.
The air was filled with quiet murmurs of love, until the door burst open.
"Oh! There she is!" my mother exclaimed, rushing forward, tears already streaming. My father followed, a mix of pride and disbelief on his face.
Not to be outdone, Calix's parents came hurrying in as well, each trying to reach the baby first.
The room erupted into chaos almost immediately, everyone talking, cooing, laughing, even lightly arguing over who would hold her next.
"She's so perfect!" my mother cried, practically pressing her cheek to Celestine's.
"You will stay with us for the weekend!" Calix's mother announced, hands on hips, as though staking a claim.
"I think we should start teaching her piano!" my father interjected, gesturing to his wife, who rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement.
"She's not going anywhere!" Calix's father countered, crouching to meet Celestine's wide, innocent eyes. "She'll be spoiled with all this attention!"
I sat back in the chair, laughing softly, rocking Celestine gently as she wriggled and cooed, utterly unconcerned by the whirlwind of grandparents fawning over her.
Calix leaned down, whispering in my ear, "She's impossible already, isn't she?"
"She's perfect," I corrected softly. "And she knows exactly what she wants."
Indeed, she did.
Celestine's tiny hand reached for Calix's nose, grabbing it gently as if to assert authority. He laughed, eyes wide in mock surrender.
"See? She's already taking charge," I said, my voice full of awe and laughter.
By this point, the room had descended into gentle chaos.
Grandparents were laughing and crying at the same time, each trying to hold her, kiss her, or simply stare at her in wonder.
"She's not going to let me hold her!" my mother wailed, reaching out as Celestine turned her head toward Calix's chest.
"I'm sorry!" Calix laughed, holding her close. "She's very specific about who she wants right now."
I leaned back, heart full, and watched the scene unfold.
There was no order, no control, just pure, unfiltered love spilling from everyone in the room. Celestine's tiny hands and wide eyes commanded attention effortlessly, and even the most stoic adults were undone.
"Why is she so… perfect?" my father muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, tears still streaming.
"She is our miracle," I said softly, pressing a kiss to Celestine's forehead. "Our little piece of happiness."
Calix's parents nodded in agreement, both dabbing at their own tears. "We have never seen anything like this," his mother said, voice trembling.
"And she's ours," Calix whispered, holding her closer, brushing his lips against her tiny head.
I saw everyone, my parents, his parents, Calix, and me, completely united, overwhelmed by a single, perfect, undeniable truth: love.
We laughed, we cried, we argued gently over the smallest details, which weekend she would spend where, what language to start teaching her, whose lullaby to sing tonight.
But through it all, Celestine remained in the center of it, commanding the room with nothing more than her presence and her small, magical personality.
I leaned into Calix, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. "We did this," I whispered. "We made her."
He kissed my hair softly. "Yes. And she's going to teach all of us how to love better."
And as the room swirled around us, chaotic, emotional, impossibly tender, I realized that this was everything I had ever wanted.
A family, messy and imperfect, full of love and laughter, bound together by a tiny, fierce little girl who had already stolen all our hearts.
Celestine Clay Aquino-Lazaro.
Our miracle.
Our world.
And in that moment, rocking her gently, listening to her soft coos and feeling her tiny hand curl around my finger, I finally understood the full weight of happiness.
Not perfection.
Not medals.
Not approval.
Just love.
Pure, unrelenting, glorious love.
And we were going to live it every single day.