Typically I blog about the kids, but with Father's Day being this weekend, I wanted to put together some thoughts I've been having lately about my husband-the father of my children-because sometimes in life you get really lucky with something, and for me it's who I married.
Life has come pretty far since my earliest memories of you in your sweatpants and basketball jersey's back in junior high, the school dances where somehow our eyes would always meet, or from that first day of school junior year when I wheeled into the high school hallways in my wheelchair and neck brace and you ran over to tell me how beautiful my smile was. I knew then you were different, but never knew how much of my life you'd become. All of these small details led us to where we are now.
It seems like we are lifetimes away from that night we IM'd each other and made a pact to get married 30 if not married already, or that first night that you came to UMASS and maybe I had a little too much "box-o-wine" and got myself sick. The night that you didn't run away, but instead popped The Wizard of Oz into the VCR player and watched it with me-never making a move because you knew I wasn't in a clear state of mind. Yet it feels like yesterday I was wearing your Silver Lake baseball sweatshirt to classes where I'd daydream about someday marrying you.
It felt like a fairytale that night you held my hand as we walked around Boston Common. I knew you were acting a little nervous that night-and it all made sense when you got down on one knee and asked if you could be the one to make all of my dreams come true. Over 10 years later and I can tell you that you already had. The time that passed from when you asked for my hand in marriage until that moment I was walking down the aisle-with my eyes locked on yours-was a whirlwind of fun. We'd share our young hopes and dreams and just couldn't wait to say "I do." July 7, 2007-Lucky in Love-we sure were.
I can't help but get emotional when I think about the moment you became a dad. That moment that you came walking over to me with James in your arms-your eyes filled with tears, that smile on your face, when you said "He's perfect, Elizabeth," I'll always remember that. The big transformation. The moment I'll share with James over and over again until someday, God willing, he becomes a father and understands why it was such a pivotal time in our lives.
I smile when I remember finding out that we were having a second boy-a mini dream team for you. No longer a rookie dad, you walked over to me like a pro with Thomas in your arms. You weren't nervous, you weren't hesitant, you were ready for the challenge. Two little boys under two. Couldn't get better than that, right?
As hard as it is to remember the happier memories with Maggie, that look of pure terror on your face when they told us we were expecting a girl was priceless. A softy at heart, you knew you were doomed. You weren't sure how life would change with a girl added to the mix. Life got a little harder-or a lot harder that year. We had been floating along without many cares in the world because our love and our children came easy for us. The challenges, however, brought us to a new level in life. "Through sickness and health"-we get it now. The timing couldn't have been worse-we had just moved and our life was in boxes. I was on strict bedrest which meant you had to be mom and dad and take on double if not triple the work around the house. You had to be strong for me because I was falling apart. You held our little family together like glue.
I can still feel your forehead pressed on mine as Maggie entered the world. She was our beautiful tragedy. I knew it was as heartbreaking for you as it was for me, but again-you faced the challenges. You stepped up when I couldn't. You kept the boys happy and entertained, but then would make time for me to hold me and cry while we tried to piece things back together. A time when we could have easily fallen apart, we found ourselves closer than ever. We worked very hard to get to a place where we could remember our angel with smiles-through music that once connected us as teens, to little signs of hope, to blogs-we'd share what we could to help each other through.
Before we really even got our footing we got the call. Aileen needed us. Without hesitation, without skipping a beat or asking any questions, you were by my side ready to take on this completely unexpected new chapter. Do you know what that meant to my family and me? I'll never forget stopping outside of the maternity ward and taking a deep breath. A place that was once so happy for us, was extremely intimidating. You panicked-not over Aileen or your role as a new foster dad, but over the thought of hearing a newborn cry. We composed ourselves and walked in. You got to her first, scooped her up, and held her so tight. Your smile returned and it was more beautiful than ever. I don't even know if you, in that moment, realized how significant those early moments with her would be.
Watching your relationship with Aileen blossom in the past 11 months has been a gift. You are the definition of selflessness. You have helped give her a safe and secure home, strong arms to hold her, a gentle heart to love her, eyes that smile and let her know that all will be alright, and a father figure that any child would be lucky to have. You've set such an example for our boys that they stepped right up with no questions asked. You are constantly rolling with the punches and have taken on more than most ever could without ever complaining.
So as you celebrate your 7th Father's Day being a dad, a bereaved dad, a foster dad, a pre-adoptive dad, and even a loving fur dad-just the overall definition of a father-I hope you can sit back and soak up the love, respect, and admiration we have for you. I hope you realize how appreciated you are and how when I look back on my life-I know that I did something so right when I fell in love with you, married you, got to spend my life with you, and had the honor of watching you conquer your best title-"DAD."
Happy Father's Day!
So beautifully written and so true. Andy is the definition of a good man.
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