I know this isn't easy for you either.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

My dear husband, I don't know about you, but I had envisioned this Father's Day differently. I was sure I'd have a little round belly and you'd be the anxious dad-to-be wondering what in the world was about to hit him. We'd be impatiently waiting for the impending gender scan to see who was joining our family. You'd be anticipating taking a little mini to your favorite fishing spot and eventually the Indy 500. We'd be visiting home improvement and decorating stores every single weekend, because you and I both know we can't make a decorating decision to save our souls.

I know this isn't easy for you either.

You're the strong silent type. The even-keeled one. A calming presence. You're the one who quietly serves and loves others so well. The reliable one. The one everyone calls when they just need someone to be there because they know you'll drop everything in that selfless way you always do, asking for nothing in return. You're not the type to let your emotions show or to express your thoughts in words. Your love language is acts of service and you've served me well as I've grieved.

I know this isn't easy for you either.

I've seen the way you love your nieces and nephew. I know that look of adoration in your eyes when you're playing yet another round of horsey with that spunky little niece of yours. I know that look of joy on your face when your twin niece and nephew get to giggling at your silly antics. I've watched as friends' children have been drawn to your sweet demeanor. I joke that you're the kid whisperer. We all know it's not actually a joke. You're going to be such an awesome dad one day!

I know this isn't easy for you either.

Every day, you lace up those work boots, throw on that grease-stained baseball cap and head back to the plant where you spend a good 55 hours a week busting your tail so that we'll have the money to put toward the high cost of fertility treatments. You're tired. This world isn't made for third-shifters, let alone those who are working 6-7 nights a week. But daily you tackle it to provide for us and our future little.

I know this isn't easy for you either.

You have always put others' needs ahead of your own. Especially mine. You support me in my whims, lift me up when I'm down, give me the space I want when I just need to cry. You mow the lawn, clean the house and put dinner on the table each night so that I have the time after work to hit the gym -- my time to burn off the anxiety that so often plagues me. You've given me countless progesterone shots in the rear cheeks, and somehow managed to make that ridiculous experience humorous. You didn't even judge me when I melted down before that first shot. You stayed up for more than 24 hours to be with me during an emergency procedure, then took such good care of me in the aftermath. You'd have given anything to take the pain away and you'd do anything to make my dreams of motherhood a reality.

I know this isn't easy for you either.

This Father's Day doesn't look the way we planned or pictured it. You're the dad of dreams gone too soon. And while the world worries about bereaved moms on Mother's Day, but often forgets the dads who go along with them, I want you to know that I see you. I picture you holding the sweet little baby I believe God is going to allow us to raise and I smile.

Hold tight, my love. Our turn is coming.



"But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint." -Isaiah 40:31 (NLT)

No comments