When the baby was born, it was crying loudly and healthily.

The husband turned father held the baby in his arms, protectively and carefully as if that little precious miracle was a fragile jewel.

When the baby was given back to the wife, she was crying tears of unparalleled joy as any mother would. After all, this little baby – beautiful, priceless and innocent – is their pride.

To get to touch the tiny newborn was her happiest day. Much happier than her wedding. This is her baby, the little baby boy brought to the world through her blood, sweat and tears. The tiny life that she and her husband wanted all their life.

Be it a girl or a boy, it doesn't matter.

This is their child.

Their pride.

Their love.

And their miracle.

She brought the child to her face, feeling the soft and plush skin.

The baby was asleep.

Tears rolled down her cheeks again, no matter how many times she wiped it away, and her husband and nurses looked on with at the scene with smiles and heartfelt happiness for the mother.

"This is my baby," she claims through her sobbing, "Our baby, Toua, Tokuchi Toua!"