To my wonderful, busy, exhausted husband.
I love you. I’m proud of you. I know we’ve tried and waited so long to finally get to this point, where we get to see our sweet baby’s face out of all the trials and doctors who said it likely wouldn’t happen.
I know just how exhausted you are and see how tirelessly you work not only at your job, but at holding our little family together when my hormones dip again or when the baby cries for the eleventh time that hour.
I see how you cradle his head and bring him comfort by bouncing him and holding his arms.
I see how you carefully line up and button each snap after every diaper change so our little one doesn’t get cold. He hates being cold.
I watch how softly you look at his face, your eyes telling him how much you love him at two-in-the-morning feedings.
I see you talk to him about all the things you’ll do together and how wonderful he’ll be at whatever his passions are, because we’ll support him in them.
I laugh as I see you roll him up in a big blanket egg and hug him close to you as he wiggles.
I feel you hold me as I cry in the night from anxiety attacks and horrible dreams, or what I’m afraid will happen in every worst case scenario my brain cycles through, your calm and quiet voice pushing away the demons.
I watch you laugh with my father and hug my mother and sister at family dinner nights and sleepovers.
You are so much more than I could have asked for.
You are a father who shows up in the face of adversity and fear, and you fight for your family. Through medical issues and through hardship and through anything in your way. You provide for us in ways only you can, and your presence in the home brings serenity and teamwork.
I love you.
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