A majority of men can be fathers. Special men are dads. Extraordinary men are daddies to angel babies.
When a man is there every step of the way, at every appointment, every ultrasound, hears every bit of bad news, he provides support. When he cries a tear for every one of mine, holds my hand through the tough procedures, is afraid to leave my side for even a moment, he has the strength I do not. When he watches, helplessly, from the sideline as our daughter is born, allowing a soul-grasping smile to break through his tears, he shows me how to love even in the worst of times. When he stops asking “how are you doing?” when I’m clearly hurting, and simply wraps his arms around me until I calm, he shows me he will never stop caring about what we could have had, what we did have, and what we ultimately lost.
Seeing Jason find the joy in loving others’ babies, being the first to ask to hold them, wanting to play and be silly, coveting each fleeting moment he can be childlike and carefree again, both breaks my heart and fills it back up with joy. I know he would the best dad a child could ask for, as he wants to add this role to his life’s resume more than any man I’ve ever met.
He still talks to all three of our angels every day. He doesn’t forget for even one moment that he has a duty to them. He doesn’t allow his grief to take away his place as their daddy.
On this Father’s Day, I thank him for being the daddy that he is and for making me the mommy that I am.