I hope when hard times hit Honeydew and I, that I will remember the night Maggie Rose was born, when my wonderful doctor, who for three days had tried everything in her power to help me deliver Maggie Rose as I’d wanted to, announced that the time for a c-section had arrived.  I hope I remember the way Honeydew held my hand as she explained the surgery to me.

And I hope that I will remember the day after Maggie Rose was born, when we learned that she had practically no platelets and would be taking a trip in a space-ship looking ambulance to the Kalispell NICU — the way the combination of exhaustion and painkillers and hormones and fever and fear caused me to crumble, and Honeydew to take charge.

The way he sat with her in the NICU for six days, leaving her side only to check on me.  The way she curled up on his chest for hours at a time, when we were finally allowed to hold her again.

The way I fought with him after we were released from the hospital the first time, begging him not to take me back there, that I would be fine despite my raging fever and inability to reason.  The way he wouldn’t listen, how he insisted we had to take good care of me, even when I didn’t want to.  Maggie needs you to get well, he said.  I need you to get well.

Yes, when we fight, I hope I remember.

Happy 1st Father’s Day to a man just meant to be a Daddy.

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