From the Publisher

It's 6 a.m. and I'm on the road. Approximately 30 minutes from home I was preparing to visit one of the five restaurants I oversaw when I got the call.

"I think my water broke." Shifting into race car driver mode, flashers on, 68-mph in a 45-mph zone, no problem. Barely getting my work van into park, I am running into the house. Expecting to find Kelly, in a chair in the kitchen doing those breathing techniques. Nope, she's in the bedroom ironing her clothes to wear when she comes home from the hospital. We arrive at the hospital, get checked in and in our room by 7 a.m.

In my twenties, I knew everything of course. Why did my brother and sister struggle with infants crying? My friends seemed to have their necks replaced with 360-degree, reinforced swivels with special sound amplifiers next to their ears that could now hear the differing pitch in the whimper of their toddler. These people were in the car with me, playing "Don't stop believing" and "I love rock and roll" at max volume. I could not hear those sounds, let alone tell the difference. Apparently, being sleep deprived causes delusions to manifest in your ears.

Through a lot of work and pain, at eight minutes after midnight, we got our gift. Laying on Kelly's chest, secured in her arms, I look for the first time into his eyes.

My first happy tears.

How could this be a thing? Now, a part of my heart has been opened that would never close. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I struggle to even speak.

Approximately 36 hours later I was securing the car seat. Pulling and tugging on it to test the belts.

Load up the car.

Pulling around the edge of the hospital I come to a complete stop at the corner.

These are the same three people that were in my vehicle two days earlier. Back then, I was passing people and exceeding every speed limit. But now I'm waiting for someone to pass me, who is currently two blocks away and we're in a 20-mph zone.

Happy tears flowed again a little more than four years later - my heart opened even more when we got our second blessing although he did provide a bit more excitement during the delivery.

The doctor that delivered him was afraid he may have broken the collar bone getting him out. We had a specialist come in and see him the next day. Pulling his hands to his waist and releasing, above his head and releasing, he determined that everything was fine, "and that will be four hundred dollars."

These two boys continue to provide me with countless memories, as newborns sleeping on my chest. Feeling them move, breathing on me and yes, that new baby smell.

One morning, my second son was laying on my chest sleeping but I had an appointment, so I had to choose to continue to let him sleep or be on time.

When I explained to my clients why I was late, they agreed that I had a good reason.

My parents used to tell me, "time goes faster the older your kids get," and I agree.

To my boys, I would add, and the tears keep flowing. Those happy tears that were created by very special gifts can also generate sad tears too.

Who knew that a heart, about the size of a fist, could hold some much love and feel so much pain. But the love and joy somehow always surpass the hurt.

As a child, all my tears were for pain or sadness but as I have gotten older, I find myself recalling so many special moments in my life with a happy tear rolling down my face.