The Other Side to Father’s Day

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.


Published by lkgaddis

I have been working on this memoir-style project for a while now, and I'm excited to share it with others. My hope is to get as wide an audience as possible, and to receive comments, suggestions, and ideas to improve and expand what I have. I also want to encourage others to become curious about the topic of babies, and the loss that can come with the adventures of trying to start a family. In the world of celebrating healthy babies, we who know otherwise need a voice too.

3 thoughts on “The Other Side to Father’s Day

  1. I have to pace my self with reading your blog. The last time I drank too much was the Father’s Day after our son Peter died in delivery. The grass was dried and tough under a hot Iowa sun. We finished the bottle of wine and put it in the ice bucket and it took me weeks to find it.

    As God would have it, a young woman has come into my life so now I have a girlfriend. Not too surprising, girlfriends have girlfriends. So this friend of my friend is a delivery nurse and has seen a lot of what they call “fetal demise”. Her boyfriend is into photography and so she has decided she needs to combine photography with fetal demise. Unlike my experience with Peter not surviving his birth, there are hospitals more in tune to the needs of parents at such a heart wrenching time. They offer the services of a photographer to take pictures of the child and family photos. Rather grim but I really wish I had some photos. I told her how the nurses offered the mom a chance to hold our son, I wasn’t even given that opportunity. The nurse friend suggested I check out some of the grieving programs they have for parents. I think I will.

    thanks again for your blog.


    1. Doug,

      Thank you for continuing to follow my blog. I understand it can be difficult to read, especially for those of us who have gone through such difficult experiences. It doesn’t matter how long ago it happens, the hurt is always there. I’m sorry to hear of your experience with the hospital and the opportunities that were not provided to you with your son. I cannot imagine what it would have done to either Jason or me if that had been the case for us. I guess we can say we were very fortunate to have had the time we did to hold Sophia, and to have pictures and keepsakes of her. It sounds like your friend’s friend may have lead you in the right direction, as I find it always helps me to talk when the pain gets to be too much. Take care, and thank you again!


  2. Reblogged this on Sophia's Story and commented:

    Three years ago, this piece was written from a place of loss, grief, and sorrow for my husband. He suffered along with me through our three pregnancy losses. He cried and grieved alongside me throughout our journey. But for all our sadness, there was always an undying love. His love grew for each child we lost, and it was always present for me as the mother of those children.

    On the eve of another Father’s Day, it is not lost on us just how fortunate we are to finally have a child who we can hug and kiss. We no longer only celebrate the children we should have had–we now also celebrate the daughter whose love for her daddy knows no bounds.

    So as we approach Father’s Day, we keep all of those fathers who know this love, and loss, in our hearts. Like I so eloquently said three years ago, it takes a special man to be a daddy to an angel.


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