Some nights are just rough nights. I have been thinking about Father’s Day quickly coming up, and it has had me in tears all night. James is an amazing father. He did so much for the girls in the little time we had with them, more than a lot of men do for their children in 20+ years.
He actually brought up Father’s Day last week, telling me, “You don’t have to get me anything for Father’s Day if you don’t want to. I will understand.”
How could that not bring tears to your eyes? He was more worried about me, and how I would feel, than himself. I hate that my body failed him, that it is because of my body that he doesn’t have two beautiful daughters waiting on him when he gets home from work tonight. I’m the reason he can’t tuck them in, or kiss them goodnight, and never will be able to.
I failed him, and my daughters, and it kills me inside. In anyone else’s womb, Willow and Hazel would be here with us now. If only I hadn’t been so selfish as to want to carry a child myself, we would have our daughters.