I intended to post every day leading up to the kick-off of the new NFL season, but a little thing like food poisoning got in the way. I’d always thought there were few things in this world to make me want to take my own life, but I discovered Saturday evening that a lovely bout of food poisoning is at the top of the list. It’s a good thing we do not own any firearms. Although, I doubt I’d had the strength to lift the gun. Anyway, I’m better. But don’t think I’ll be ordering any chicken wings in the near future.

And while I fully intended to get back on the NFL track, an incredible miracle happened at 3:50 am. This little man was born.

This is Lucas Michael Petrasek. My great-nephew. My beautiful niece, and god-daughter, Holly, delivered the little dude after 16 hours of labor. And while I’m not one to gush over babies, when I received the photo by text at 4:00 am, I began to cry. I’m not sure why. Possibly the beauty of this birth on, ironically, Labor Day. Perhaps the fact that Holly was told it would be very hard for her to conceive (I guess she showed them). Or mostly because this family, my sister’s family, has endured such heartbreak over the past 4 years that this tiny baby, this little beginning, was much needed. With Lucas, comes hope.

I realize that’s a heavy burden to place on a 7lb 10 oz. baby. Hope. But he is. He is our future. A first child. A first grandchild. A first nephew. A first great-nephew. A first great-grandchild.

And I admit I’m having a hard time with the realization that this little girl who is my god-daughter, the  spiky-haired toddler I held in my arms, the child I helped nurse when she had the chickenpox, the little girl so independent at such a young age with a clear mind of her own is now a mother.

It truly is in these moments that all is right in the world. Welcome, Lucas.