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Lucia gazed at her daughter, at her firstborn child, and knew that, no matter what, she couldn't hate her, she would always love her and cherish her because she was her baby, her child, and she also represented her love for her baby's father, Tino; she was living proof of that love, and of all the good it could bring into the world and to both her and Tino's lives, like their very own child, as strange as she might look.
She was a beautiful baby, no matter if she looked different, or not, and Lucia would love her child all the more for it; she had never understood people's preconceptions about beauty and ugliness, anyway, but now, it only seemed all the more absurd to think that she might be able to hate a child – her child – all because she looked different. Dyesebel had never hurt a single soul, and yet she knew that people would hate her, just as she was expected to, herself, though she couldn't bring herself to.
Dyesebel was a celebration of life and of Lucia and Tino's love for one another, and when Lucia looked into her husband's eyes, she saw the same love for their newborn daughter shining back out of his eyes that she was sure he would see when he looked into her eyes. Their child was a precious, beautiful thing, and nothing anyone could say would ever change her mind about that fact. She would always love and care for her, as a mother was supposed to, and she was sure that Dyesebel herself would grow with her parents' love to be a kind and decent young woman some day.