17/01/2026
'You're so small... how are you going to carry a child?' they asked me. 'With love,' I replied. I adopted Marcus in the late 1980s. A single man with achondroplasia wasn't who people expected to see walking out of an adoption office with a baby. I heard all the doubts, all the warnings. Still, I signed the papers. I wanted to be a dad, and that child needed someone who wouldn't disappear. I carried him everywhere—on my hip, on my lap, in a baby carrier I rebuilt three times to fit my body. Marcus grew strong. Sports, running, lifting—anything that got him moving, he loved. As I got older, my legs started to hurt more. Stairs, long walks, even grocery shopping became more difficult. Marcus saw it before I said anything. Now he just leans down and says, "Come on, Daddy. I'll carry you." And he does. Steady. Confident. Proud. I raised him with love. Now he returns that love to me.
