My daughter came over today to spend some time with me. (This is a big deal when your daughter lives in her own apartment.) She came to spend some one-on-one time in honor of Mother’s Day, but we ended up talking about her father. She wanted to find a photograph of him from back when he wore an earring and “looked like a pirate.” (It was the early 90’s, what can I say?)

So we went downstairs and pulled out all the old school photo albums looking for Daddy as a pirate. We didn’t find it, but there were some photos of when we were dating. There were some photos of our very simple civil wedding ceremony. And then the photos of the babies came, fast and furious – and mostly of her as she was the firstborn.

She asked me before we started looking if it would bother me or make me sad. I said no and put a smile on my face, but to be honest, I wasn’t so sure. Some of the photos – especially from our wedding day – were bittersweet. But for the most part, what I saw was a girl who loved a boy.

It didn’t work out, but they were together for a long time and had two beautiful children. This. This right here is the best thing these two people did. And they needed each other to do it.

So on Mother’s Day, I have to stop and think about the man who helped me create these kids who call me Mommy. He wasn’t perfect. But for a long moment in time, I loved him perfectly.

I have the photos to prove it.