To the father of my babies

He can change a diaper in the dark and snap the snaps to the horribly complicated outfits while barely awake. He does it without complaint or thanks.

We met in 1999. I was a mess and he was lonely. He held me patiently as I hesitated to trust him. He waited. I trusted.

We had fun and lots of it. We shared great friends and great times, beautiful moments. Our wedding, our honeymoon in Hawaii gave us peaceful memories that we can always look back on.

We struggled to have children and suffered losses. We looked toward the unknown together and stubbornly never gave up.

Being parents is a lot harder than we ever thought it would be. God, how we love our babies. Boy can they kick our asses. We've muscled through it together and are feeling more sure-footed and tested. We'll be ok and so will they.

He is even sexier than he was when I met him. When he rolls out of bed to feed a baby or comforts my soul in times of uncertainty and despair, he is so solidly there and reliable. He's so strong and sure and true. And, damn, he's still a hotty.

My babies are lucky to have him and I couldn't do it without him. I really could not do it without him.

I love you, honey. Happy Father's Day.