Like many first time fathers, Mark worried during our second adoption process that he wouldn't have it in him to love another child as much as he loves Sam.

There's no doubt that for my darling husband the sun has, from Day One, risen and set on his son's sweet head. The intensity of the emotion he feels for his boy often takes his breath away, and he continues to be amazed by how easily overwhelmed he can be by the parade of joy, fear, adoration, anxiety, pride, panic, delight and utter astonishment that comes with being a parent. Normally such a stoic, my big, strong man's big, beautiful eyes well up at the merest hint of sweetness, the slightest show of four-year-old bravado, the shortest snippet of song, the briefest flash of brilliance.

And the great thing is, he loves being such a softy. His tears always come with a smile, and there's a certainty in him that, even though late to the game, fatherhood was exactly what he'd been waiting his whole life for.

Because we didn't specify a sex for our second child, there wasn't a 'new son' or 'new daughter' hook to begin to hang attachments to, and that seemed to postpone the reality of expanding the concentric circle of fatherhood beyond Sam.

It happens often with dads ... dads of all sorts of making ... that the idea of a child doesn't come with a wife's expanding waistline or a ream of dossier documents, but with a face. Like the husband of a pregnant woman who has trouble translating the wife's bump into a whole new human, mine struggled with making the jump from paperwork to papoose.

Then came the referral.

Only someone who's been through this miracle can understand how the seed of love breaks open the moment an email reveals the referral photo and for the first time your eyes and your heart are introduced to YOUR child.

As it had been with our adoption of Sam, that seed grew into a full-blown love tree at a phenomenal rate, fed by every glance at any one of the dozens of printed photos, every conversation about our new addition, every little sleeper and bootie.

By the time we traveled to Cambodia for our Chamroeun Jada, the love was close to full fruit, and needed only the tiniest touch of shared sunshine to have the whole shebang burst into the sweet ripeness of complete and total forever love.

This photo was taken in Phnom Pehn ... note the kramer around Mark's neck, a dead giveaway that we're in Cambodia ... on the second day of Mark being a dyed-in-the-wool, bona fide father-of-two tasting the words, "my daughter" as often as he could. As you can see, he was no longer worried about having enough love to go around.

He understands now that it would be an easy thing to love half a dozen children ... or more!

If only ... sigh ...

For more Love Thursday, see Jenna's blog, or Abby's, or any others who dedicate at least this one post per week to the warm fuzzies.

To read more about my wonderful husband and his "dad style", here's a post I'm fond of, and its follow-up.