Father's Day

When my husband and I started dating one of the things that attracted me to him the most was the way he was with children. He spent a lot of family events playing with his younger cousins or my nieces and nephews. I always thought he'd be a terrific father.

One of my greatest struggles through the loss of Lily is dealing with the guilt. I have a draft post on guilt but it's heartwrenching to write so it's taking a while. A big part of the guilt I feel revolves around my husband. I feel like I robbed him of the chance of being a dad.

He brought up having kids about two days after our wedding. It was so incredibly cute to hear him talk about having babies right away, but we just got married. I told him maybe we should get used to that first! We agreed to wait a while. Lily had other plans though. Two and a half months after our wedding, we found ourselves expecting our first child.

My husband was so incredibly excited. After our first ultrasound at about 9 weeks, he immediately framed the picture of the baby, which of course looked like a blob. We didn't even have our wedding pictures framed! But he took a heart frame we received as a gift and put the ultrasound pictures in it. Every night he'd ask when the baby could play t-ball. When would we sign him/her up for Little League? Anytime I complained about my uterus stretching or pulling or just generally feeling huge one day, he'd just smile, rub my stomach and say "it's his house."

The day Lily was born, and we knew she wouldn't survive, my husband didn't eat. He didn't sleep. He wouldn't leave the room. I'd never seen him so nervous and upset. With every contraction I had or push I would need to do, he'd wince and put his head down and try to hold back his tears. I found myself comforting him that day.

Seeing him in pain that day and the days that followed was unbearable. While at times it seemed like he was adjusting to life without our daughter and that he was healing faster than I was, I could always tell when he was having a hard time. Lily's baby blanket would move. Lily's picture - still in the heart frame he'd picked out for her - would be at the edge of our nightstand instead of in the middle. Sometimes when he was drifting off to sleep at night or just barely awake in the morning, he'd mumble Lily's name. It broke my heart. It still does.

I tend to think his heartbreak is my fault. I know deep down it's not, but I can't stop thinking this way sometimes. I feel like he married a defective woman. Maybe he should have gotten all the facts before committing to me. That whole "check under the hood before you buy" thing. I should have been able to fully disclose the situation. I should have known my uterus was abnormal. I should have been able to warn him. I should have figured out this incompetent cervix thing before we got pregnant and taken all steps necessary to keep his child safe.

My body didn't just fail me that day.  It failed him.

I feel like if he'd married someone else he would have been spared all this. He could have a child by now. He could be a father already - maybe to even more than one. He could have celebrated Father's Day the way "real" dads do. He wouldn't have had to endure the awful pain of losing a baby. He wouldn't have to worry we may lose another. He wouldn't have to wonder if he will ever have a baby at home. All of this wouldn't be an issue - if only he hadn't married me - the defective wife.

I've apologized to him on numerous occasions over the last year. I've told him how I feel guilty and responsible for his heartache. I've told him "if you'd married someone else..." His usual response? "But then I wouldn't have Lily."

That response makes me smile. It proves to me how wonderful he truly is. It reminds me why I love him and just how much I do.

My husband is a great father. I just hope one day we can bring a baby home.