I wasn’t always sure I wanted to be a mom, but he was always sure he wanted to be a dad. He went to every appointment with me when we got pregnant. (Yes, “we”. It was a joint venture.) He was the first to hold her. The first to change her diaper. The first to swaddle her and the first to chase some student LVNs out of the room when they insisted on waking her up our first night in the hospital.
She took her first steps to him and he’s already been her first dance. Some people would call him a natural, but I wouldn’t. Being “a natural” seems to imply it was unearned and he earned every bit of this.
My husband is an amazing father because he wants to be one. He is a believer that if you want to be good at something, hard work is 95% of that. He wanted to be a good father to our daughter. He wanted to be good enough for her, and so he became good enough for her.
The degree in his office is for her. The pursuit of second one is, too. The long hours and the late nights are for her. All the work he does is to provide for her. To make sure her only shot at college isn’t one she takes in a gym. To make sure she can grow up to be whatever she wants to be, when he couldn’t. He’s building stairs and ladders for her because all he had to grasp at was straws.
He gave her his smile, his cheeks and his laugh. He gives her his time, his attention and as much of his heart as she desires.
He didn’t grow up knowing what being a father was, but he’s grown into it.
And he did it all for her.
So, don’t tell me little girls aren’t powerful, when I know an 8lb baby girl who tamed a giant. And don’t call my husband a natural, because he wasn’t–he earned this. That’s the thing about giants. They can move mountains, and the good ones will. Especially for the little girls who call them “Dad”.
Happy Father’s Day.
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