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My husband does not cry.  Splinter?  No tears.  Sprained ankle?  No tears.  Compound fracture?  No tears.

Sappy PMS movies?  No tears.  Not even for Nicholas Sparks’ flicks.  Hallmark commercials?  No tears?  YouTube videos of soldiers surprise returns?  No tears.

He didn’t tear up when he proposed or at our wedding.  I’ve never even known him to cry at a funeral.

Which is why I was SHOCKED back on September 30, 2005 when I saw him weep.  We were in a podunk courtroom in Rostov, Russia and had just given our statements to the judge about why we would be the world’s most fabulous parents.  At that moment in time, I was incredibly cocky – hard to believe, I know – and waited with a smile plastered to my face for the judge to accept our plea for adoption.  As she spoke and the interpreter whispered her statement in English, I looked directly into the judge’s eyes with a smile on my face.  Once the Princess was officially our child, I hugged the interpreter, the social worker, and then hugged the judge.  She spoke to me in Russian and I just smiled.  Then she put her hand on my shoulder and pointed me toward my husband.

Prince Charming had his head on the shoulder of the doctor from Sophie’s orphanage and was sobbing.  Red-faced weeping.  I can’t tell you how stunned I was.  I expected him to share my cocky glee not be brought to his knees with emotion at becoming a father.  Sometimes I apparently don’t think things though very carefully.  Or else I’m just selfish and oblivious to his emotional needs.  A deep (and disturbing) thought.

This is why I knew to expect the tears this time.  On February 14, 2012 at 3:02 a.m. EST, a judge in the Moscow City court pronounced us “parents” once again.  This time, I turned to my husband first.  And cried tears of joy with him.