Father's Day

Eight years ago today you celebrated your first Father's Day.

I bet as you looked at that little four month old baby boy you felt so many things:

Exhaustion

Pride

Hope

Fear

but most of all, overwhelming love.

I always imagined that you had a different kind of special bond with this boy of ours.

Daddies and sons always do.

You probably imagined all your future Father's Days being full of baseball, fishing, working on cars, and weekends at the cabin.

All those dreams hit like a freight train when we found out about autism.

The grieving process is so real when you find out your child has a disability.

And everyone grieves differently.

I quickly went into research and planning mode because I was determined to fix this autism thing we'd just learned about.

You showed grief differently; more quietly.

There was this inner anger and frustration in you:

Frustration that we couldn't communicate with our 2 year old,

Anger that nobody truly understood anything about this autism diagnosis,

Irritation from other people's seemingly simpler life,

and resentment building up every time you saw our boy struggle.

You and I have come a long way the past eight years and so has our little family.

Nolan is such an amazing kid who has changed all of us without even trying.

Harper and I, the girls in his life, are his biggest cheerleaders, but the bond he has with you is like no other.

You are "Daddy."

You are his rock, protection, comfort, security, playmate, and tickle monster.

You are the one he wants when it's time for hair cuts, dentist appointments, or he needs a tooth pulled.

He wants you when he's overstimulated and needs some quiet time in his room.

The curve of your arm around him in bed puts him to sleep quicker than anything in this world.

You are the one who can calm a meltdown and end a tantrum quicker than anyone else; often by making him laugh no matter how hard he tries not to.

It is hard having a child with a disability.

I imagine it's even harder to be that child who struggles to communicate the simplest things, has so much to say, and so much love to give.

Nolan is so blessed to have a daddy like you.

I am in the spotlight a lot because I can't stop talking about this kid and advocating for him and others like him. People see and hear me all the time.

You are the quiet one who's work goes unnoticed most of the time because so much of it is behind closed doors.

I know you still feel angry and bitter at times; and that's okay.. We all deal with life in different ways. I'm just thankful that we deal with it together. My toxic positivity will even us out! Ha!

Father's Day eight years later looks so different than you imagined:

5am wake up from a squealing, laughing 8 year old boy,

A little girl who wants to play dinosaurs with her daddy, and

Hour long car rides around town blasting Paw Patrol with your son.

And I bet you still feel the same things you did on that first Father's Day:

Exhaustion

Pride

Hope

Fear

but most of all, overwhelming love.

Autism took away those typical father/son dreams but God gave you a bond with your son very few men will ever know. Our life hasn't and won't always be easy, but I'm thankful for the husband and daddy you are; despite what life has thrown our way.

Happy Father's Day! We love you!