Happy Father's Day: A Post for My Husband

It’s my first Father’s Day married to a father.

Mother’s Day was only a month ago, and yet everything still seemed too new to even spend more than half a minute ruminating over the significance of the day. There was still a baby to be held, diapers changed, and food to be made.

But now, just a month later, Father’s Day is completely different. I can sit here and look back over these past three months that have made my husband and I into parents, into mothers and fathers.

When my husband and I first started dating, I remember our first real conversation. It was on the phone while I was driving back from visiting my best friend an hour-and-a-half away. We talked that whole drive, and then more and more as I sat in my driveway, not wanting to hang up or let that conversation slip away. When we finally did hang up—after talking about life and love and hopes and dreams—I remember thinking clearly: That man is going to make for an incredible father.

I am fortunate enough to say, five years later, that I could not have been more right.

From the moment Claire was born, my husband was a natural at this parenting gig—even in spite of how difficult she proved to be. It was he who had the patience to get her to sleep and the calm to get her to stop crying. He changed so many diapers that it felt like weeks before I ever took over the task. From day one, he was a Daddy and took to the task without hesitation, cuddling our daughter, fawning over her, pouring love all over her.

And in the midst of all that, he also took care of me. Because as I’ve mentioned before, I was something of a wreck during those early days of motherhood, when the sound of Claire's cries ripped and shred my soul to pieces. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced but her stress stresses me, her misery makes me miserable, her cries bring me to tears. And so, I suffered alongside her as she tried to acclimate to this big, bad world of ours.

Yet my husband was there for me, a constant source of encouragement to me. There’s a post-it note he put on the inside of our bedroom door reminding me, “Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7). He encouraged me day after day, held me when I cried, comforted me when I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a terrible mom because all she did was cry.

He was my stronghold during those dark days, always pointing me back to the Lord and reminding me of His goodness and faithfulness. He truly was the hands and feet of Jesus to me and Claire both during those days. He showed us God when both of us were too exhausted to look for Him ourselves.

And so, on this first Father’s Day, I wish to tell this handsome man of mine: Thank you. I love you. I am the luckiest wife in the world, and our daughter is the luckiest girl in the world. Happy Father’s Day!

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