I saw how much he loved YOU!

I was shopping online for the perfect Father’s Day gift for my baby daddy, when I came across this adorable plaque. It said, I never knew how much I loved your father, until I saw how much he loved you.

Now, I knew Dan for three years before we got married. I knew that his favorite meal is peanut butter chicken, that he owned only one pair of faded and rather oversized jeans, that he can’t talk and drive at the same time, and that he loves magic tricks. But I honestly didn’t know how well he interacted with kids. (Acting like one doesn’t mean you can play well with one!) I crossed my fingers and hoped it would be a dormant, if not already-developed skill.

After testing him out on the neighbors’ kids and a few church kids and four nieces, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he did a pretty good job! Granted, he had still to get the diapering thing down- you know, the skill where you fit BOTH butt cheeks into the diaper… and we had to talk about the whole Freezie Pops and candy for dinner thing- but overall, he was showing some great promise!

Fast forward two and a half years. And it’s our turn! We’re sitting in a cute room looking at a big screen, watching our baby squirm and kick on the ultrasound monitor. With just a few days left before Dan deployment, we decided to schedule one last look together at our little guy. The tech freezes the screen and points out the two cute little tushy cheeks. She hesitantly asks, “Mommy, Daddy, what do you see right there in the middle?”

… Puzzled silence …

“Um… nothing?” answered Dan.

And that’s when I start laughing hysterically. “Are you kidding?! Our boy is a girl?!”

For months, all Dan had talked about was having a boy. Because, boys can wrestle and play baseball, and you can throw boys in the air and splash them in the pool. Because boys are tough and adventurous and wild and… well… awesome, duh! When we found out that our little kidney bean was a boy, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt I had accomplished my duties as a dedicated wife.

And so at the word ‘girl’, I froze in the middle of my laughing, and looked over at my man to see how he was taking in this horrible disappointment.

Boy, was I surprised! Pure joy! That man was beaming! What in the world was going on?!

We laughed all the way home… we laughed telling our families… Dan told me he just couldn’t stop laughing and smiling to himself the entire next day.

I finally asked him, What gives?!

And he told me that while he was out walking the dog, he came across some pretty pink wildflowers and picked a handful. He imagined one day being able to pick flowers and give them to his daughter… taking her on Daddy dates… giving her such a perfect example of how a princess ought to be treated that she wouldn’t settle for anything less when she went looking for Prince Charming one day.

And I think that’s when it hit me. This man I married- this silly, crazy, weird, charming, darling man- was going to be a fabulous father!

My parents divorced when I was 14, and my usually acute memory can’t seem to dig up a lot of father-daughter moments. I remember beer-battered chicken and Sunday morning coffee cake… and I remember Dad’s hands. I remember thinking that the big caulk-covered, rough hands were the epitome of truly manly hands, and I liked them.

When Dan is away, one of my favorite ways to feel closer to him is to look through our pictures. And, do you know what my favorite pictures are? The ones where Dan’s hands are wrapped around me. I’ve always liked Dan’s hands because they’re big (and a little hairy) and strong, like the ones I admired in my childhood… because my little hand feels so safe inside his. And because those strong, competent hands know when to be tender hands, too.

I cannot wait to see those hands hold our baby girl for the first time. To see her little tiny fingers wrap around her daddy’s. To watch those chubby fists reach out for daddy’s hands to pick her up. To watch her take her first wobbly steps into those outstretched daddy hands. To see little and big fingers work together to learn to tie shoelaces. To giggle as daddy hands attempt a first ponytail in golden baby locks. Something tells me that a set of delicate little fingers will be wrapped around a big heart long after our girl has outgrown Barbies and Bumbos!

And I don’t think I’d have it any other way!

So, this Father’s Day I just want to send this message to someone special:

As our little family expands, I find my heart growing, too, to make room for the new joy we’ve been given. And, I find the impossible happening- I’m growing MORE in love with you… as I see you love our little girl so sacrificially and so tenderly. You are going to make a wonderful father, and I thank God for the privilege of partnering with you in this awesome journey! We love you and miss you… and we can’t wait to each claim one of your big hands when you get home!

Happy Fathers’ Day!

Let us not say 'goodbye'!

“Let us not say ‘Goodbye’, but as the French say, ‘Au Revoir!’ simpers the brazen George Wickham in my favorite five hour Pride and Prejudice movie. If you’re like I am, you cringe every time Wickham opens his stupid mouth to say that ridiculous line. As if anything he said in French could be better than his saying it in English! There are just times in life when less is more. When silence is better than sound. When you just need to say goodbye and leave, for heaven’s sake!

I can’t decide whether it feels like yesterday or a lifetime ago that I said goodbye to Dan before his first deployment. We had just been married a month and a half earlier, and our marital bliss had consisted of a great honeymoon and a couple weekend rendezvous, since I was in NJ and Dan was in TX. I am absolutely terrible at saying goodbye. In my mind, I prepare all these sweet, wonderful parting words of love and wisdom. And then about 6 hours before departure, I start simmering. My breathing becomes shallower and my tear ducts start leaking and my jaw clenches tighter to keep in all the emotions. And, in that magical moment when I’m supposed to wax eloquently and deliver my goodbye speech, I am reduced to tearful silence. Thus, I was waiting in line at the airport to go through security, trying to be brave, when I turned around for one more look and a wave goodbye. There was my soldier with just a hint of brimming tears, waving back. And I steeled my heart, grabbed a tissue, disappeared from view…. And feverishly texted all the sweet nothings I suddenly remembered I was supposed to say!

I deeply resented not being present for the official sendoff. I was intensely jealous of all the spouses who got to be with their soldier to the very last minute. I could be brave! I could handle the emotional roller coaster! Sure, I was new to this, but by golly I wanted to be the best soldier’s wife ever, and I couldn’t believe I had to say goodbye at the stupid airport…

Coming up on deployment number two, Dan and I talked about how we wanted to say our goodbyes this time. Part of me still resented that airport goodbye, and I was going to have it MY way this time. Since I was the one getting left behind again, I figured I deserved to be selfish, right?!

As per usual, the actual day and hour of sendoff changed a bajillion times in a matter of days. Til almost the last minute, we didn’t know when Dan would need to leave. Lucky for us, the Army chose the most convenient time of 2AM on a Sunday morning. Dan was part of the advance team, so there would be no official ceremony or sendoff- just a small group of guys and a couple spouses sprawled on the grass in the dark. I waited in the car as Dan unpacked his bags… and I started simmering… again… we were getting close to the crucial moment, and suddenly I needed to decide what I was going to do. It was my choice this time, just like I’d wanted. No airport. No security line. I could hold on to my soldier til the very last minute!

“Honey, do you want to come outside and wait with us for a while?” There was no pressure in his tone- just a genuine desire to accommodate MY desires this time.

And do you know what I found myself saying?

“You know… I think I’d rather just say goodbye. Here. Just you and I… Like we did last time. Would that be ok?”

And we held hands and prayed and cried together and said all manner of awkward last minute things that were totally not in our beautifully-planned speeches. Things like, “I’ll try to walk the dog every day.” And “Don’t forget to take care of the cars.” Or “Hey, we should really come up with a name for the baby.” And the ever important, “Try not to die, ok!”

What I realized in that moment is that everybody handles goodbyes differently, and that’s ok! And in that moment, I didn’t want to share my goodbye with anyone else. I wanted to cry and not feel guilty for it. I wanted to give my husband one last snotty, slobbery kiss and not care what anyone thought of it. I wanted to pray with him and know that it was just Dan and me and Baby and our heavenly Father. And I didn’t want to make small talk and pretend that inside my heart wasn’t breaking into a million pieces… again.

There are times when life is romance and butterflies and fireworks and pink ribbons and chocolate milk bubbles and trampolines. When you smile out the window and shout “Au Revoir!” because it does sound so much sweeter! And there are times when life is just a proverbial pile of poop. And ‘goodbye’ is ‘goodbye’, and the next person who tries to turn it into an ‘au revoir’ is going to get punched in the face. Poop stinks, and once you get over that, you hold your nose and get through it!

I’m so glad Dan and I got to say our goodbyes on our own terms. And, God forbid we ever have to do it again, we’ll figure out what will work best for us in that moment, too.  Every phone call and Skype session in the next 8 months will end in another goodbye. And it will still stink like poop. But I’m pretty sure when it’s all over, life will again be romance and butterflies and fireworks and pink ribbons and chocolate milk bubbles and trampolines… and maybe even unicorns!