His voice shook for just a moment before he regained his strength. “But I knew one thing for certain, and that is the fact that I am not leaving her,” he promised.
The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop on the gym floor. “Some of you laughed when you saw me walking up here with a baby,” he said without any hint of anger.
“Maybe you think this child means I failed before my life even started,” he suggested to the judging eyes in the crowd. He gently pulled the blanket tighter around the infant’s shoulders.
“But she is not my failure, she is my primary responsibility,” he stated clearly. “She is never going to have to wonder if her father decided to stay,” he added.
I heard someone in the back of the room start to sob openly. Westley looked directly at me and said, “My mom was seventeen when she had me, and the world saw a mistake.”
He swallowed hard before finishing his thought. “But when I looked at her, I only ever saw a miracle,” he whispered.
My heart felt like it was breaking and healing at the same time. “If I can be even half the parent she was to me, then my daughter is going to be just fine,” he concluded.