Happy Father’s Day To My Husband

It just seems our world, in this moment, is saturated with so much sadness, fear and fury.

Parents being attacked publicly with pitchforks because their child fell into a gorilla cage or because their child played too closely to the water that was unknowingly infested with alligators. Rape victims not getting their justice. Fifty innocent and beautiful fellow Americans were killed. Terrifying political figures yelling on the television.

While I know that it is up to an indiviual to see the good, it’s difficult at times. My glimmer of hope is thinking of my husband on Father’s Day.

I can’t think of a more gentle, loving, dedicated and loyal human being than this man.

I will forever carry this image of him holding his son for the first and only time in my heart. Oh, how my heart swells at the sight of my very own gentle giant.

There was so much sadness on this day. But so much sadness it was beautiful. We uncovered a new depth and dimension to love, pain and just life. We were stripped down, we were beaten and we became so raw. We became more alive and human in those 24 hours than we ever had been. It has been a life altering blessing, to feel so much love and pain.

The day I delivered our son, my sweet husband held my hand and coached me through each push and contraction until 3:20 in the morning. We wept and wept until our faces were swollen and our eyelashes felt as though they had disintegrated.

He didn’t flinch as the blood poured from my body. Nor when our son arrived. Nor when tools and hands frantically continued to work inside of me for over an hour after I delivered. There was so much to fear, to shut out, to not deal with but he dove right into our raw mess and stood tall and strong.

With tears silently rolling down his face, he gripped my hand and cheered me on as I wailed. The word wail really resonates with me now. A prolonged high-pitched cry of pain, grief, or anger. What a haunting word to express so much emotion. It reminds me of those old Biblical movies on the television that you flip by late at night. You see those women in their black garb falling to their knees and screaming in pain. Wailing.

And so I wailed. I literally wailed and cried with each contraction and push.
But he did not waiver at this. He didn’t shush me. He didn’t look at the doctor and two nurses in embarrassment. He only squeezed my hand tighter, it was as if that his hand was connected to his tear ducts because with each squeeze, more tears flowed.

That man right there…is exactly why I can maneuver through this scary world. Not because I rely on him, but because he is the epitome of good in this world. I never met a man more qualified to fit the title of Father, husband, partner, lover, friend and a man.

And it disappoints me that some of his friends and family don’t reach out to him more or even at all. Why haven’t they asked him how he’s holding up? Is it because he’s a male, drinks beer, watches sports to no avail? Is it because they see him smiling and being his goofy self?

He doesn’t know that I know, but I can sometimes hear him in the shower crying for our son. His nightly ritual now includes quietly kissing his son’s teddy bear before we go to sleep. He may be goofy and smiling but he is still hurting and healing.

So family and friends, today I ask you to reach out to my husband and the other men you know that may be hurting today and wish them a Happy Father’s Day and ask how he is doing. And to those who have reached out today, I can’t tell you how much my heart lights up when I see his grin as he reads these messages. Thank you for that.

Because if anyone in this world deserves a quick text, it’s the man that had to give his first born child away.

To the most beautiful man I know and to the father or our son. Happy Father’s Day my love.

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